Martha beside him, holding out her arms for
the child, cuddling it to her bosom, wrapping her
shawl about it as if to protect it from the gaze of the
inquisitive.

"O doctor! it was so good of you!" were Jane's
first words. It hurt her to call him thus, but she
wanted to establish the new relation clearly. She
had shouldered her cross and must bear its weight
alone and in her own way. "You don't know what
it is to see a face from home! I am so glad to get
here. But you should not have left your people; I
wrote Martha and told her so. All I wanted you to
do was to have her meet me here. Thank you, dear
friend, for coming."

She had not let go his hand, clinging to him as a
timid woman in crossing a narrow bridge spanning
an abyss clings to the strong arm of a man.

He helped her to the dock as tenderly as if she
had been a child; asking her if the voyage had been
a rough one, whether she had been ill in her berth,
and whether she had taken care of the baby herself,
and why she had brought no nurse with her. She
saw his meaning, but she did not explain her weakness
or offer any explanation of the cause of her appearance
or of the absence of a nurse. In a moment
she changed the subject, asking after his mother and
his own work, and seemed interested in what he told