"Yes, brother Rice."
She was leaving her corner to meet him. The doctor could see that she sunk to her hands and knees with weakness and helped herself up by the wall.
"Where are you? Is any one with you?"
As they met in the darkness the brother felt her hands and trembling figure.
"What possessed you to sit down here in this damp old place? You are clammy as stone. Poor little thing, were you frightened? What have you been doing?"
"I have been talking," replied Maria.
The doctor's heart labored like a drum. Perhaps she would tell it all out to Rice Jones now.
The same acrid restraint may be heard in a mother's voice when she inquires, as Rice did,—
"Who was talking with you?"
"Dr. Dunlap."