“Where am I?”

“With friends,” said the doctor.  “You were a little faint, that is all; you will be all right presently.”

She quickly prepared some nourishment, which was what he most needed, and fed him from time to time, as he was able to receive it.  Gradually he could feel a little vigor coming into his frame; and regaining control of himself, he was able to hear what had happened.  Very gently the doctor told him, making light of his temporary weakness.

“The fact is, Father Damon,” she said, “you’ve got a disease common in this neighborhood—­hunger.”

The father smiled, but did not reply.  It might be so.  For the time he felt his dependence, and he did not argue the point.  This dependence upon a woman—­a sort of Sister of Charity, was she not?—­was not altogether unpleasant.  When he attempted to rise, but found that he was too weak, and she said “Not yet,” he submitted, with the feeling that to be commanded with such gentleness was a sort of luxury.

But in an hour’s time he declared that he was almost himself again, and it was decided that he was well enough to be removed to his own apartments in the neighborhood.  A carriage was sent for, and the transfer was made, and made through a crowd in the streets, which stood silent and uncovered as his carriage passed through it.  Dr. Leigh remained with him for an hour longer, and then left him in charge of a young gentleman from the Neighborhood Guild, who gladly volunteered to watch for the night.

Ruth walked slowly home, weary now that the excitement was over, and revolving many things in her mind, as is the custom of women.  She heard again that voice, she saw again that inspired face; but the impression most indelible with her was the prostrate form, the pallid countenance, the helplessness of this man whose will had before been strong enough to compel the obedience of his despised body.  She had admired his strength; but it was his weakness that drew upon her woman’s heart, and evolved a tenderness dangerous to her peace of mind.  Yet it was the doctor and not the woman that replied to the inquiries at the dispensary.

“Yes, it was fasting and overwork.  Men are so stupid; they think they can defy all the laws of nature, especially priests.”  And she determined to be quite plain with him next day.

And Father Damon, lying weary in his bed, before he fell asleep, saw the faces in the dim chapel turned to him in strained eagerness the moment before he lost consciousness; but the most vivid image was that of a woman bending over him, with eyes of tenderness and pity, and the smile with which she greeted his awakening.  He could feel yet her hand upon his brow.