'Up there?' I asked, beginning now to apprehend her meaning. 'Do you mean at the Home for the reception of poor women who have yielded to temptation?'
'Yes; though I never heard it put that way before. You need not tell me you are not one of the good ones, any more. Well, I was one of the thieves they take in to reform. I'd been to jail six months; and one of the ladies on the watch for girls when they come out, got hold of me, and persuaded me to go up there for a time and be made different.'
'How'—I was going to say—'kind of her;' but I saw the time had not come for that. She did not notice my interruption, and went on.
'Well, then, I run away, and got caught again, and persuaded to go back to the Home, as they call it, once more. So I made one more try. But it was no use. To-night I run away again; and I don't mind what becomes of me now. Who cares?'
'I care.' It was no use, I thought, attempting to talk of the Eternal love until she could believe in the human. Whether the fault was her own or not, I could not at this juncture tell; but one thing was plain, being 'cared for' was what this woman craved more than anything besides. The misery of that half-defiant 'Who cares?' appealed direct to my heart.
'How can you care for me when you have never known me?'—suspiciously. 'How can that be?'
'I do not know how it can be; I only know that it is; and I mean to make you believe it. You are exactly the woman I was seeking to-night. I want you.'
'What for? Do you really want some one to help you?' she eagerly asked, turning her wild eyes suddenly upon me again. Even the moon, which was shedding its silvery light upon us, could not soften the wild sadness of her eyes.
'Are they after you? What is it you have done?'