out one last supreme trial. Such a thing would take a
lot of pluck."

He stopped for a moment, looking into the whites of her eyes.

"And now you've made up your mind that all your struggle has been in
vain and that the end is in sight. Now I can't tell where that end
lies, Miss Nelson, but it looks to me as if it had retired into the
far distance. You are going to keep on taking care of this man, of
course. He needs you badly, in the first place, and the toil and
stress of it will be good for your soul. And then saving a life is
tremendously interesting. There's nothing like it. But your new life
is only to begin when this job is finished."

"I--I don't understand," said the girl, watching him eagerly.

"When you're through with this case, Stefan will bring you back to
Carcajou. There he'll put you on the train and send you to me. I can
assure you that my wife will welcome you. She's that sort, strong and
friendly and helpful. My poor little chaps don't see very much of
their daddy, but they've got a mother who's a wonder, to make up for
it. Now our village can't yet afford a trained nurse, though some day
I'm going to have a little hospital and two or three of them. The
railroad will help. But in the meanwhile you're going to work for me,
at little more than a servant's wages. You're quick and intelligent
and have a pair of gentle and capable hands. There are scores and
scores of little houses and shacks where your presence would be simply
invaluable. My wife tries it, but she can't do it all, with the kids
and the husband to look after. I shall work you like a horse, when you
get strong enough, but every bit of the work will help some poor
devil. My wife can give you a bed, a seat at our table and plenty of
good wise friendship. In all this you're going to give away a lot more
than you will receive. How does it strike you?"

But Madge was weeping silently, with her face held in her hands. The
doctor had certainly not tried to make his proposition very
attractive, and yet she felt as if she were emerging from deep waters
in which she had been suffocating. Now there was pure air to breathe
and there would always be God's sunlight to cheer one and bring
blessed warmth. From the slough of despond she was being drawn into
the glory of hope.

"I shall try," she promised. "Oh, how hard I'm going to try! It--it
seems just like some wonderful dream. But--but can I really earn all
this--are you sure that it isn't--"