Beside the window opening on the view of the valley stood his old-fashioned desk--six feet long, its top a labyrinth of pigeon-holes and tiny drawers. He pursued his studies with boyish enthusiasm and chattered of them to Mary by the hour--with never a word passing his lips about himself. Aunt Abbie, the cook, brought her a cup of tea, and Mary volunteered a question. “Do you know the Doctor's people, Auntie?” she asked hesitatingly. “Lord, child, he's a mystery to everybody! All we know is that he's the best man that ever walked the earth. He won't talk and the mountain folks are too polite to nose into his business. He saved my boy's life one summer, and when he was strong and well and went back to Asheville to his work, I had nothin' to do but to hold my hands, and I come here to cook for him. He tries to pay me wages but I laugh at him. I told him if he could save my boy's life for nothin' I reckon I could cook him a few good meals without pay----” Her eyes filled with tears. She brushed them off, laughed and added: “He lets me alone now and don't pester me no more about money.” Her tea and toast finished, Mary placed the tray on the table, rose with a sudden look of pain, and made her way slowly to the library. A warm fire of hardwood logs sparkled in the big stone fireplace. The Doctor was out on a visit to a patient. He had given her the freedom of the place and had especially insisted that she use his books and make his library her resting place whenever her mind was fagged. She had spent many quiet hours in its inspiring atmosphere. She seated herself at his desk and studied the calendar which hung above it. A sudden terror overwhelmed her; she buried her face in her arms and burst into tears. She was still lying across the desk, sobbing, when the Doctor walked into the room. He touched her hair reproachfully with his firm hand. “Why, what's this? My little soldier has disobeyed orders?” “I don't want to live now,” she sobbed. “And why not?” “I--I--am going to be a mother,” she whispered. “So?” “The mother of a criminal! Oh, Doctor, it's horrible! Why did you let me live? The hell I passed through that night was enough--God knows! This will be unendurable. I've made up my mind--I'll die first----” “Rubbish, child! Rubbish!” he answered with a laugh. “Where did you get all this misinformation?” “You know what my husband was. How can you ask?” “Because I happen to know also his wife--the mother-to-be of this supposed criminal who has just set sail for the shores of our planet--and I know that she is one of the purest and sweetest souls who ever lost her way in the jungles of the world. If you were the criminal, dear heart, the case might be hopeless. But you're not. You are only the innocent victim of your own folly. That doesn't count in the game of Nature----” “What do you mean?” she asked breathlessly.