ruggle for life, which none but a strong woman
could have won through, and when she began to grow better, she made
herself useful among the other patients, and was so helpful, that when
one of the nurses went away, they kept her on in her place. But
evidently she had not been used with town life, or even indoor life, and
she grew dowie first, and then despairing, and he was glad at the
thought of getting her away, for fear of what might happen. It was
change which she needed, and work such as she had been used with."

"But it was a great risk to send her here."

"Yes, in one way. And I hardly think he would have ventured to do so,
but that, quite by accident, he had heard about her from an old college
friend. It seems that this gentleman came to see Dr Fleming at the
infirmary, and getting a glimpse of the young woman's face, he betrayed
by his manner that it was not for the first time. He was bound, he
said, for her sake, not to seem to know her, nor would he say anything
about her home or her station in life. But he said that he knew well
about her, that she was an orphan who had suffered much, that she was a
good woman, one to be trusted and honoured, and he begged his friend to
ask her no questions, but to get her out of the town into some quiet
country place where she might outlive the bitterness of the past. And
his last words were, `Fortunate will they be who can have her as a
helper in the house.'"

"It is a pity for her sake that she should refuse to trust us."

"Yes. There is one thing which you ought to know, though Dr Fleming
rather betrayed it than expressed it openly. I think, from what he
said, and also from what he did not say, that there had been some fear
that her mind might give way under the strain of her trouble, whatever
it is. She seemed to have lost the power of turning her thoughts away
from it, and yet she had never uttered a word with regard to it. She
was sometimes, he said, like one walking in her sleep, deaf and blind to
all that was going on about her. She had a dazed look, painful to see."

"I ken the look well."

"She had been used with country life, he thought, for in the town she
was like a creature caged and wild to get out. Her best chance was, he
said, an entire change of scene and of work, and he thought it
providential that we were to lose our Kirstin at this time. Our house,
he thought, would be a good place for her. She will have plenty to do,
and will have