"Indeed I am not," said Dr. Spenlove earnestly. "Since I left you some hours ago, not expecting to see you again, something has occurred of which I came to speak to you. I found your room deserted, and feared--what we will not mention again. I searched and discovered you in time to save you--and with all my heart I thank God for it. Now drink this tea. I have much to say to you, and you need strength to consider it. If you can eat a little bread and butter--ah, you can. Let me fill your cup again. That is right. Now I recognize the lady it was my pleasure to be able to assist--not to the extent I would have wished, because of my own circumstances." His reference to her as a lady, no less than the respectful consideration of his manner toward her, brought a flush to her cheeks as she ate. And indeed she ate ravenously; defiant and desperate as had been her mood, nature's demands are imperative, and no mortal is strong enough to resist them. When she had finished he sat by her side, and was silent a while, debating with himself how he should approach the task which Mr. Gordon had imposed upon him. She saved him the trouble of commencing. "Are you acquainted with the story of my life?" she asked. "It has been imparted to me," he replied, "by one to whom I was a stranger till within the last few hours." "Do I know him?" "You know him well." For a moment she thought of the man who had brought her to this gulf of shame, but she dismissed the thought. It was impossible. He was too heartless and base to send a messenger to her on an errand of friendship, and Dr. Spenlove would have undertaken no errand of an opposite nature. "Who is the gentleman who takes such an interest in me?" "Mr. Gordon." She trembled, and her face grew white. She had wronged this man--the law might say that she had robbed him. Oh, why had her fatal design been frustrated, why was not this torturing existence ended? "You need be under no apprehension," continued Dr. Spenlove; "he comes as a friend." She tossed her head in scorn of herself as one unworthy of friendship. "He has but lately arrived in England from the colonies, and he came with the hope of taking you back with him as his wife. It is from him I learned the sad particulars of your life. Believe me when I say that he is desirous to befriend you." "In what way? Does he offer me money? I have cost him enough already; my father tricked him, and I have shamefully deceived him. To receive more from him would fill me with shame, but for the sake of my child I will submit to any sacrifice, to any humiliation--I will do anything, anything! It would well become me to show pride when charity is offered to me!"