e had been a simple, happy, bright
one up to this time. She had not seen the monster life close at hand. She
had large, childish eyes which were the colour of harebells and
exquisitely sympathetic and sweet. There were tears in them when she
gently opened the door and stood timidly on the threshold.

"Let me, please let me come in," she said. "Don't say I mayn't."

The moaning and low choking sobs went on, and in a very few moments they
so wrought upon her, that she pushed the door farther open and entered
the room. What she saw was a barren, common little place, and on the bed
a girl lying utterly prostrated by an hysteric tempest which had lasted
hours. Her face was white and swollen and covered with red marks, as if
she had clutched and torn it with her fingers, her dress was torn open at
the bosom, and her hair tumbled, torn, and loose about the pillow; there
was a discoloured place upon her forehead which was settling into a
bruise. Her eyes were puffed with crying until they were almost closed.
Her breast rose with short, exhausted, but still convulsive sobs. Margery
felt as if she was drawn into a vortex of agony. She could not resist it.
She went to the bed, stood still a second, trembling, and then sank upon
her knees and put her face down upon the wretched hand nearest and kissed
it with piteous impulsive sympathy.

"Oh! don't cry like that," she said, crying herself. "Oh, don't! Oh,
don't! I'm so sorry for you--I'm _so_ sorry for you."

She did not know the girl at all, she had never even heard of her before,
but she kissed her hand and cried over it and fondled it against her
breast. She was one of those human things created by Nature to suffer
with others, and for them, and through them.

She did not know how long it was before the girl became sufficiently,
articulate to speak to her. She herself was scarcely articulate for some
time. She could only try to find words to meet a need so far beyond her
ken. She had never come in contact with a woman in this strait before.

But at last Susan was lying in the bed instead of on its tossed and
tumbled outside. Margery had done the nearest, simple things for her. She
had helped her to bathe her face with cold water, to undress and put on
her nightgown; she had prepared her narrow bed for her decently, and
smoothed and wound up her hair. Then she had gone downstairs, got her a
cup of tea, and sat by her and made her drink it. Then she set the room
in order and