"What will Mrs. Moss say?" he murmured. CHAPTER VII. DR. SPENLOVE ADVISES. An hour after Mr. Moss's departure Mrs. Turner opened her eyes. It was a moment for which Dr. Spenlove had anxiously waited. He had satisfied himself that both of his patients were in a fair way of recovery, and thus far his heart was relieved. The woman who had assisted him had also taken her departure after having given the babe some warm milk. Her hunger appeased, the little one was sleeping calmly and peacefully by her mother's side. The room was now warm and cheerful. A bright fire was blazing, the kettle was simmering, and a pot of hot tea was standing on the hearth. Mrs. Turner gazed around in bewilderment. The one candle in the room but dimly lighted it up, and the flickering flames of the fire threw fantastic shadows on walls and ceiling; but so bright was the blaze that there was nothing distressful in these shadowy phantasmagoria. At a little distance from the bed stood Dr. Spenlove, his pale face turned to the waking woman. She looked at him long and steadily, and did not answer him when he smiled encouragingly at her and spoke a few gentle words. She passed her hand over the form of her sleeping child, and then across her forehead, in the effort to recall what had passed. But her mind was confused; bewildering images of the stages of her desperate resolve presented themselves--blinding snow, shrieking wind, the sea which she had not reached, the phantoms she had conjured up when her senses were deserting her in the white streets. "Am I alive?" she muttered. "Happily, dear Mrs. Turner," said Dr. Spenlove. "You are in your own room, and you will soon be well." "Who brought me here?" "I, and a good friend I was fortunate enough to meet when I was seeking you." "Why did you seek me?" "To save you." "To save me! You knew, then----" She paused. "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."