Desberger had paused at the movement I made.

"Yes, it is my nature to do so, ma'am. I love the beautiful," and she
cast a half-apologetic, half-proud look about her. "So I listened to the
girl and let her sit down in my parlor. She had had nothing to eat that
morning, and though she didn't ask for it, I went to order her a cup of
tea, for I knew she couldn't get up-stairs without it. Her eyes followed
me when I went out of the room in a way that haunted me, and when I came
back--I shall never forget it, ma'am--there she lay stretched out on the
floor with her face on the ground and her hands thrown out. Wasn't it
horrible, ma'am? I don't wonder you shudder."

Did I shudder? If I did, it was because I was thinking of that other
woman, the victim of this one, whom I had seen, with her face turned
upward and her arms outstretched, in the gloom of Mr. Van Burnam's
half-closed parlor.

"She looked as if she was dead," the good woman continued, "but just as
I was about to call for help, her fingers moved and I rushed to lift
her. She was neither dead nor had she fainted; she was simply dumb with
misery. What could have happened to her? I have asked myself a hundred
times."

My mouth was shut very tight, but I shut it still tighter, for the
temptation was great to cry: "She had just committed murder!" As it was,
no sound whatever left my lips, and the good woman doubtless thought me
no better than a stone, for she turned with a shrug to Lena, repeating
still more wistfully than before:

"_Don't_ you know what her trouble was?"

But, of course, poor Lena had nothing to say, and the woman went on with
a sigh:

"Well, I suppose I shall never know what had used that poor creature up
so completely. But whatever it was, it gave me enough trouble, though I
do not want to complain of it, for why are we here, if not to help and
comfort the miserable. It was an hour, ma'am; it was an hour, miss,
before I could get that poor girl to speak; but when I did succeed, and
had got her to drink the tea and eat a bit of toast, then I felt quite
repaid by the look of gratitude she gave me and the way she clung to my
sleeve when I tried to leave her for a minute. It was this sleeve,
ma'am," she explained, lifting a cluster of rainbow flounces and ribbons
which but a minute before had looked little short of ridiculous in my
eyes, but which in the light of the wearer's kind-heartedness had lost
some of their offensive appearance.

"Poor M