He went afterward to
the cottage, and saw bruises on his wife's delicate arms and hands--dark
cruel marks on her face; but by neither word nor look did she ever
betray her husband. Watching that silent, heroic life, he became
interested in her. More than once he tried to speak to her about her
husband--to see if anything could be done to reclaim him. She knew that
all efforts were in vain--there was no good in him; still more she knew
now that there never had been such good as she had hoped and believed.
Another thing pleased and interested the doctor--it was Margaret
Dornham's passionate love for her foster child. All the love that she
would have lavished on her husband, all the love that she would have
given to her own child, all the repressed affection and buried
tenderness of heart were given to this little one. It was touching
pitiful, sad, to see how she worshiped her.
"What shall I do when the three years are over, and her father comes to
claim her?" she would say to the doctor. "I shall never be able to part
with her. Sometimes I think I shall run away with her and hide her."
How little she dreamed that there was a prophecy in the words!
"Her father has the first claim," said Dr.
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