d the
best part of twenty-four hours of hard work to rouse Anna from the
death-like lethargy into which she had fallen. Toward morning she
opened her eyes and turning to her mother, said appealingly:

"Mother, you believe I am innocent, don't you?"

"Certainly, darling," Mrs. Moore replied, without knowing in the least
to what her daughter referred. The doctor, who was present at the
time, turned away. He knew more than the mother. It was one of those
tragedies of everyday life that meant for the woman the fleeing away
from old associations, like a guilty thing, long months of hiding, the
facing of death; and, if death was not to be, the beginning of life
over again branded with shame. And all this bitter injustice because
she had loved much and had faith in the man she loved. The doctor had
faced tragedies before in his professional life, but never had he felt
his duty so heavily laid upon him as when he begged Mrs. Moore for a
few minutes' private conversation in the gray dawn of that early
morning.

He felt that the life of his patient depended on his preparing her
mother for the worst. The girl, he knew, would probably confess all
during her convalescence, and the mother must be prepared, so that the
first burst of anguish would have expended itself before the girl
should have a chance to pour out the story of her misfortune.

"Tell me, doctor, is she going to die?" the mother asked, as she closed
the door of the little sitting-room and they were alone. The poor lady
had not thought of her own misfortunes since Anna's illness. The
selfishness of the woman of the world was completely obliterated by the
anxiety of the mother.

"No, she will not die, Mrs. Moore; that is, if you are able to control
your feelings sufficiently, after I have made a most distressing
disclosure, to give her the love and sympathy that only you can."

She looked at him with troubled eyes. "Why, doctor, what do you mean?
My daughter has always had my love and sympathy, and if of late I have
appeared somewhat engrossed by my own troubles, I assure you my
daughter is not likely to suffer from it during her illness."

"Her life depends on how you receive what I am going to tell you.
Should you upbraid her with her misfortune, or fail to stand by her as
only a mother can, I shall not answer for the consequences." Then he
told her Anna's secret.

The stricken woman did not cry out in her anguish, nor swoon away. She
raised a fe