Having made up his mind upon the important matter, Dr. Spenlove turned homewards, and as he walked he recalled the incidents in connection with the unhappy woman in which he had played a part. She was a stranger in the neighbourhood, and had lived her lonely life in a garret for five months. No person with whom she came in contact knew anything of her or of her antecedents, and it was by chance that he became acquainted with her. Attending to his poor patients in the street in which she resided, he passed her one afternoon, and was attracted as much by her modest and ladylike appearance as by the evidence of extreme weakness, which could hardly escape the observation of a man so kindly-hearted as himself. He perceived at once that she was of a superior class to those among whom she moved, and he was impressed by a peculiar expression on her face when his eyes rested on her. It was the expression of a hunted woman, of one who was in hiding and dreaded being recognised. He made inquiries about her, but no one could give him any information concerning her, and in the press of onerous cares and duties she passed out of his mind. Some weeks later he met her again, and his first impressions were renewed and strengthened; and pity stirred his heart as he observed from her garments that she was on the downward path of poverty. It was clear that she was frightened by his observance of her, for she hurried quickly on; but physical weakness frustrated her desire to avoid him; she staggered and would have fallen had he not ran forward and caught her. Weak as she was she struggled to release herself; he kept firm hold of her, however, animated by compassion and fortified by honest intention. "You have nothing to fear from me," he said. "Allow me to assist you. I am Dr. Spenlove." It was the first time he had addressed her, but his name was familiar to her as that of a gentleman to whom the whole neighbourhood was under a debt of gratitude for numberless acts of goodness. She glanced timidly at his face, and a vague hope stirred her heart; she knew that the time was approaching when she would need such a friend. But the hope did not live long; it was crushed by a sudden fear. "Do you know me, sir?" "No," replied Dr. Spenlove, in a cheerful tone. "You are a stranger to me, as I have no doubt I am to you." "You are not quite a stranger, sir," she said, timidly. "I have heard of your kindness to many suffering people." "Tush, tush!" he exclaimed. "A man deserves no credit for doing his duty. You feel stronger now, do you not? If you have no doctor you must allow me to come and see you. Do not hesitate; you need such advice as I can give you; and," he added gently, "I will send in my account when you are rich. Not till then, upon my honour; and meanwhile I promise to ask no questions." "I am deeply grateful to you, sir." And, indeed, when they parted the world was a little brighter to the poor soul.