"I knew nothing except that you were in trouble." "Where did you find me?" "In the snow, you and your child. A few minutes longer and it would have been too late. But an angel directed my steps." "No angel directed you. A devil led you on. Why did you not leave me to die? It was what I went out for. I confess it," she cried recklessly. "It was my purpose not to live; it was my purpose not to allow my child to live! I was justified. Is not a quick death better than a slow, lingering torture which must end in death? Why did you save me? Why did you not leave me to die?" "It would have been a crime." "It would have been a mercy. You have brought me back to misery. I do not thank you, doctor." "You may live to thank me. Drink this tea; it will do you good." She shook her head rebelliously. "What is the use? You have done me an ill turn. Had it not been for you I should have been at peace. There would have been no more hunger, no more privation. There would have been an end to my shame and degradation." "You would have taken it with you to the Judgment Seat," said Dr. Spenlove with solemn tenderness. "There would have been worse than hunger and privation. What answer could you have made to the Eternal when you presented yourself before the throne with the crime of murder on your soul?" "Murder!" she gasped. "Murder," he gently repeated. "If you went out to-night with an intention so appalling it was not only your own life you would have taken, it was the life of the innocent babe now slumbering by your side. Can you have forgotten that?" "No," she answered in a tone of faint defiance, "I have not forgotten it; I do not forget it. God would have forgiven me." "He would not have forgiven you." "He would. What has she to live for? What have I to live for, a lost and abandoned woman, a mother whose association would bring degradation upon her child? How should I meet her reproaches when she grew to be a woman herself? I am not ungrateful for what you have done for me"--she glanced at the fire and the tea he held in his hand--"but it cannot continue. To-morrow will come. There is always a to-morrow to strike terror to the hearts of such as I. Do you know what I have suffered? Do you see the future that lies before us? What hope is there in this world for me and my child?" "There is hope. You brought her into the world." "God help me, I did!" she moaned. "By what right, having given her life, would you rob her of the happiness which may be in store for her?" "Happiness!" she exclaimed. "You speak to me of happiness!" "I do, in truth and sincerity, if you are willing to make a sacrifice, willing to perform a duty." "What would I not be willing to do," she cried despairingly, "what would I not cheerfully do, to make her life innocent and happy--not like mine, oh, not like mine! But you are mocking me with empty words."