Never in her life had she seen a face so haggard, so deadly white and set. The time may come to a human heart when sympathy is as keenly craved as is food and drink to a man stranded in the desert. For one long minute the doctor held Mrs. Thorpe’s eyes with his, and she read in their awful depths the tragedy of his life. Ah, these heart tragedies! Faith, hope, love--faithless, hopeless, forsaken! Not a word was spoken; the man turned to be alone, and the vibrating silence lay between them. But who can know what message may have gone out from the man’s tortured soul? Dr. Eldrige’s thought held to the wronged woman suffering and cold on the cot, but the soul of his manhood went out to that other woman shielded in the warm firelight. What, after all, are our material concepts of life where the realities of being are concerned? Who places our limitations upon us and makes our communication with a loved one dependent on time and space?
Both the doctor and Mrs. Thorpe turned to the prostrate form on the couch. "We must attend to her without delay," the doctor said; and they drew off her rain-soaked shoes, and warmed her aching feet, and removed her wet garments, and wrapped her in warm flannels. And Mrs. Thorpe brewed her a steaming cup of tea; and after the girl had drank this they assisted her to a bed and made her as comfortable as possible for the night. Then the doctor prepared to take his departure.
"I will send you someone to stay with you through the night, if you like," he said to Mrs. Thorpe.
"Not unless you think it necessary," she replied. "I am not afraid; believe me, I am not afraid." And so he left her alone with her patient.
The girl fell into an uneasy sleep and Mrs. Thorpe drew a chair to her bedside and sat beside her. And watching by this erring girl who had been so often in her thoughts, Mrs. Thorpe realized how small had been the measure of her faith; for she had not dared to believe that the opportunity to repay Margaret for the wrong she had done her would ever come to her.
After a time Margaret fell into a deep slumber, and Mrs. Thorpe left her and sought her rest. The next morning she found her tossing restlessly on her pillows. Her eyes, wide open now, were staring and bloodshot; the blood was leaping wildly through her veins and fever burned in her face. She laid her hand on the girl’s forehead.