opinions, and Anne had scarcely seated herself by the bed of the
unfortunate woman, whose harrowed face told of the torment within, than
she began to ask questions of the disgrace of Jane Evans, whom, she had
heard, was to have a child to crown all. But contrary to Anne's
expectations the bed-ridden woman was friendly to the girl. The habit of
neglect and scarcely-veiled impatience with which she had for many years
been treated, and of which she had been fully and silently aware, had
produced in her tortured mind an exasperated rebellion against the
opinions of her neighbours, who were unable to see anything beyond their
own comfort. She knew that she had so much the worst of it; that even
attending perfunctorily to another's human necessity was not so hard a
task as to be there day after day in the company of a pain which never
ceased, and beneath whose increasing shadow the world had slowly
darkened.

"They're all afraid of the trouble to themselves about the girl," she
said, with her bitter intonation. "They're afraid they'll be called on
to do something for her sooner or later."

She turned over with a groan, lying still and worried.

"Have you tried a bag of hot salt?" asked Anne, after a few minutes'
silence.

"Yes! I tried once or twice," replied the woman, "but you know it's a
bit of extra trouble, and no one likes that."

"If you could tell me where to get a bit of red flannel I'll make one
for you now," said Anne.