“Hold! young man,” said the doctor, who, knowing the habits of men, was always impatient and disgusted at their complaining, in any way, of woman’s frailty. “You cannot look me in the face, and tell me she is not as chaste as you are, even if she has helped to build up Mother Torbit’s business by the same acts that you have; but you have not heard all. She was there only one night and the next day, and took no stock in the business; but even if she had, do you not see that her soul is as white as snow compared to yours? She was found destitute, homeless, abandoned, weeping, on the Common. A girl spoke pityingly to her, and took her home, out of charity. Annie Gilder, a mere child in years, was ignorant of the nature of the house, and begged the old woman to give her work, whereby she might earn her bread. That is why _she_ was there in that house. Now what were _you_ there for? Were _you_ ignorant of the nature of the house also? Had _you_ been turned out of doors on a cold winter’s night because you had no money and nowhere to lay your head? Ah, Christ! the inhumanity of men to women is enough to make fiends hide their heads in shame. If the whole sex should go mad with vengeance, and murder us all in our sleep, it would scarcely be an injustice to us. Your tears do you credit, young man. I am glad to see them. This pretty, innocent young girl, has won my heart. I have placed her with the two women in this world whom I most honor, and hereafter her life, I trust, will be happy.” George begged the doctor to let him see her. He wished to go to her at once and ask her forgiveness; and then he confessed to the doctor that he had been ashamed of her poor attire; and carrying her awkward bundle for her across the Common, he had met several of his friends, who afterward quizzed and mortified him. The doctor saw how natural this was in a handsome young fellow, just beginning an independent career for himself, dressing like a swell, and feeling immensely important; but he had not done with him yet. “You think, of course, that this poor child is as ready as ever to fall into your arms; but perhaps you are mistaken. She is among those who will teach her the worth of her beauty and goodness, and open to her the way to earning an honest livelihood. She is already deeply attached to her new friends, and has learned the difference between the love that depends upon outside appearances, and that which looks deeper. I trust that terrible struggle between life and death in the icy river, has frozen out of her heart its old warmth for one who could treat her as you have done; but I don’t like preaching, young man. I’m no saint myself, and I see clearly that you were controlled by motives which you did not create. You are young, and, with your fine constitution, ought to live to old age. It remains to be seen what you will do with the forces at your command.”