"Jane, my dear, I've not come to blame you," began Anne, "I've come to
see if there's anything I can do to make it easier for you to face the
future and what's coming. I only heard of you coming here by accident or
you shouldn't have been left alone. You mustn't think everybody's
forsaken you and you've no friend left to you. It's often the case that
you know your true friends in trouble," she continued sententiously.
"And if only you could find the best Friend of all now when you need Him
most." Her prim phrasing changed to earnestness. "There was a woman once
that they dragged out in front of everybody for evil-doing. But He
wouldn't have it. He put them to silence, and then when she was all
alone with Him He showed her how tender He was to them that do wrong. If
you only knew Him and His kindness, and how He can understand any kind
of trouble. There's a good deal you think none of us can understand, but
_He_ can if you tell Him." She wiped her eyes. Jane did not seem to have
heard.

"I don't want to worry you," continued Anne; "you've got a good deal to
bear and to think of, and you've got to keep up for the sake of the
child. He'll need you to be father and mother both. Matron thinks you'll
be better here for the present, but you mustn't give up and think you're
to stay in the Union all your life. But try to think of the child, and
how God'll help you if you try to do the right."

It was like speaking to a person a very long way off, and Anne desisted.

"She's very quiet, isn't she?" said the Matron. "That'll have to break
down soon. The doctor thinks she'll be all right when the child comes.
The labour'll give her a shock and rouse her. She comes of a better
class than the usual ones. It's the disgrace she can't get over. She'll