They conversed for a moment or two longer; then Helen hung up the receiver, the cloud of anxiety gone from her brow and a great burden from her heart.
She gathered up the pieces of torn paper and threw them into the wastebasket; then, hurriedly dressing for the street, she went out.
CHAPTER XIV.
"LOVE THY NEIGHBOR."
Helen hastened to the Mercy Hospital with all possible speed. At the office she gave her name as Mrs. Helen Hungerford, and was quick to observe that a peculiar look flitted over the face of the gentlemanly attendant as she did so.
She inquired for Marie Duncan, and was told that although the woman was comparatively free from pain, and her mind clear, her injuries were of such a nature that she could not live many hours.
"Would it be possible for me to see her?" Helen inquired.
She believed that the once popular favorite was utterly friendless, as well as penniless—in fact, she had practically admitted as much, and with the revulsion of feeling that had followed after Marie had shown the better side of her nature, there had come the desire to help the unfortunate woman in some way. Hence, when she had read of the terrible accident and its probable fatal termination, she had hurried to the hospital to ascertain if she could be of some comfort to her in this bitter extremity, all her aversion and resentment submerged in pity for one who was nearing the dark river of death.
She was not a little surprised, however, when in response to her inquiry the attendant observed:
"It really seems a singular coincidence, madam, but the woman has begged at intervals during the night that we should send for a Mrs. Helen Hungerford; however, as she was unable to give us the address, and it could not be found in the directory, it has, of course, been impossible to grant her request. If you will be seated, I will send some one to ascertain if you can be admitted to the patient," he concluded, as he courteously placed a chair for her.