Page:Elizabeth Jordan--Tales of the cloister.djvu/219

 I am with God. You know how I would have you act. And if you have some time a peculiar, pressing need of me, perhaps I may be permitted to come to you. Our Lord may grant us this. Why not? When He gave you to me for all these years as the child of my heart." She bent forward and kissed the bowed head in her lap. "Remember," she said, softly. "I promise. If you need me, and if it is permitted me, I will come to you."

Dr. Van Nest, aged thirty-eight, stood at the window of her New York office and looked out at the falling snow. It was Christmas Day, but the season had little holiday significance for the famous surgeon. She had worked as usual, driving in her carriage from hospital to private house, and carrying from place to place with her the constant thought of a white face and a pair of pained, appealing eyes.

When she entered her house late in the evening the smiling maid had pointed to a varied assortment of packages, which had not yet been opened. Large boxes, with the names of prominent florists on their covers, breathed sweetly of the love of friends. Telegrams and notes were piled high on her desk. She unwrapped several of the packages, and her lips set a little grimly over the cards that accompanied them.