"I could not face that gale. Indeed, I was so weak I fell on my
knees as it struck me and became dripping wet before I could drag
myself inside. The baby began to moan and everything was turning
dark before me, when I heard a strong, sweet voice cry out in the
roadway:

"'Is there room in this house for me till the storm has blown by?
I cannot see my way down the hillside.'

"With a bursting heart I looked up. A woman was standing in the
doorway, with the look of an angel in her eyes. I did not know
her, but her face was one to bring comfort to the saddest heart.
Holding up my baby, I cried:

"'My baby is dying; I tried to go for the doctor, but my knees
bent under me. Help me, as you are a mother--I---'

"I must have fallen again, for the next thing I remember I was
lying by the hearth, looking up into her face, which was bending
over me. She was white as the rag I had tied about my baby's
throat, and by the way her breast heaved she was either very much
frightened or very sorry.

"'I wish you had the help of anyone else,' said she. 'Babies
perish in my arms and wither at my breast. I cannot touch it, much
as I yearn to. But let me see its face; perhaps I can tell you
what is the matter with it.'

"I showed her the baby's face, and she bent over it, trembling
very much, almost as much indeed as myself.