Crushing the letter, Alice’s hands fell on the table; she burst into tears.  But work was more vital than tears; and, taking up her pen, she continued her story—­penny journal fiction of true love and unending happiness in the end.  A month later she received this note: 

’DEAREST, ’Just a line in pencil—­I mustn’t sit up—­to tell you it is all over, and all I said was “Thank God, thank God!” over and over again, as each pain went.  It is such a relief; but I mustn’t write much.  It is such a funny screwed-up-looking baby, and I don’t feel any of those maternal sentiments that you read about—­at least not yet.  And it always cries just when I am longing to go to sleep.  Thank you again and again for all you have done for me and been to me.  I feel awfully weak. 
’Always affectionately yours,
‘MAY GOULD.’

XXIV

Then Alice heard that the baby was dead, and that a little money would be required to bury it.  Another effort was made, the money was sent; and the calm of the succeeding weeks was only disturbed by an uneasy desire to see May back in Galway, and hear her say that her terrible secret was over and done with for ever.  One day she was startled by a quick trampling of feet in the corridor, and May rushed into the room.  She threw herself into Alice’s arms and kissed her with effusion, with tears.  The girls looked at each other long and nervously.  One was pale and over-worn, her spare figure was buttoned into a faded dress, and her hair was rolled into a plain knot.  The other was superb with health, and her face was full of rose-bloom.  She was handsomely dressed in green velvet, and her copper hair flamed and flashed beneath a small bonnet with mauve strings.

’Oh, Alice, how tired and pale you look!  You have been working too hard, and all for me!  How can I thank you?  I shall never be able to thank you—­I cannot find words to tell you how grateful I am—­but I am grateful, Alice, indeed I am.’

’I am sure you are, dear.  I did my best for you, it is true; and thank heaven I succeeded, and no one knows—­I do not think that anyone even suspects.’

’No, not a soul.  We managed it very well, didn’t we?  And the Reverend Mother behaved splendidly—­she just took the view that you said she would.  She saw that no good would come of telling mamma about me when I made her understand that if a word were said my misfortune would be belled all over the country in double-quick time.  But, Alice dear, I had a terrible time of it, two months waiting in that little lodging, afraid to go out for fear someone would recognize me; it was awful.  And often I hadn’t enough to eat, for when you are in that state you can’t eat everything, and I was afraid to spend any money.  You did your best to keep me supplied, dear, good guardian angel that you are.’  Then the impulsive girl flung herself on Alice’s shoulders, and kissed her.  ’But there were times when I was hard up—­oh, much more hard up than you thought I was, for I didn’t tell you everything; if I had, you would have worried yourself into your grave.  Oh, I had a frightful time of it!  If one is married one is petted and consoled and encouraged; but alone in a lodging—­oh, it was frightful.’