grown into a
real institution, since Mr. Elder had volunteered to supply a young
fellow from his club, anxious to act as orderly and assistant for the
sake of the training, and Mrs. Paynter, a friend of Mr. Bradley's, had
managed to get a full dispensary supply at cost prices from
connections of hers in the wholesale drug line.

"And it all comes from you, Mr. Jerrolds," the letter ended, "all
owing to your wonderful, your noble interest, in this work! You told
Mr. Bradley, and though he is not justified in thinking I saved her
life, it is perfectly true that those cases give us a great deal of
trouble sometimes, and I was very fortunate in having had a great deal
of maternity work in the mountains, when I had to act all alone and do
rather daring things. But I got the practice there, and so if I did
save your friend's life (or the baby's, which is nearer the truth, I
confess to you, Mr. Jerrolds!) you have amply rewarded the cause that
gave me the training to do what I did!

"Your grateful

"HARRIET BUXTON."

I sat under the glass-topped wall, the letter between my knees,
staring at the brick walk bordered with green turf. How strange it
was, how incredibly strange! A curious sense of watchful, relentless
destiny grew in me. Truly it slumbered not nor slept! I, who had
cursed that child unborn, had reached over seas and helped it into the
world! I, who had been jealous of my friend, had sent him a friend
indeed! I, who had grudged Margarita husband and child (for in my
black, cruel fever I did this) had given her back to both!

I pondered these things long (as if the thread in the tapestry should
marvel at its devious windings) and then summoned my landlady.

"Mrs. Drabbit," said I, "I am thinking of going to America."

PART SIX

IN WHICH YOU ARE SHOWN THE RIVER'S VERY
SOURCES, FAR UNDERGROUND

And is it I that must sit and spin?
And is it I that my hair must bind?
I hear but the great seas rolling in,
I see but the great gulls sail the wind.

Who sang the grey monk out o' the cell?
Who but my mother that rode the sea!
She stole a son o' the church to hell,
And out of hell shall the church steal me?

_Sir Hugh and the Mermaiden._

CHAPTER XX

A GARDEN GLIMPSE OF EDEN

It was mid-August, however, before I reached that part of America that
was destined to mea