Knowing her as he did, he was convinced that her sole incentive was one of loving kindness, both for the child and for the poor mother whose sin or whose poverty she was concealing.

In this connection, he remembered how in one of her letters to Martha she had told of the numberless waifs she had seen and how her heart ached for them; especially in the hospitals which she had visited and among the students.

He recalled that he himself had had many similar experiences in his Paris days, in which a woman like Jane Cobden would have been a veritable angel of mercy.
Mrs.Cavendish's ears were more easily approached by the gossips of Warehold and vicinity; then, again she was always curious over the inmates of the Cobden house, and any little scraps of news, reliable or not, about either Jane or her absent sister were eagerly listened to.
Finding it impossible to restrain herself any longer, she had seized the opportunity one evening when she and her son were sitting together in the salon, a rare occurrence for the doctor, and only possible when his patients were on the mend.
"I'm sorry Jane Cobden was so foolish as to bring home that baby," she began.
"Why ?" said the doctor, without lifting his eyes from the book he was reading.
"Oh, she lays herself open to criticism.

It is, of course, but one of her eccentricities, but she owes something to her position and birth and should not invite unnecessary comment." "Who criticises her ?" asked the doctor, his eyes still on the pages.
"Oh, you can't tell; everybody is talking about it.

Some of the gossip is outrageous, some I could not even repeat." "I have no doubt of it," answered the doctor quietly.