on't say anything to him, Joe's
as good and kind a man as I ever saw when he is sober, but sometimes he
is really ugly when he has been drinking."

Just then the door was opened, and Joe Gough entered, or rather all that
remained of the once witty, talented and handsome Josiah Gough. His face
was pale and haggard, and growing premature by age, his wealth of raven
hair was unkempt and hung in tangled locks over his forehead, his hand
was unsteady and trembling from extreme nervousness, but he was sober
enough to comprehend the situation, and to feel a deep sense of remorse
and shame, when he gazed upon the weary head from whence he had bereft
its magnificent covering.

"Here Mary," said he approaching the bed, "I've brought you a present; I
only had four cents, and I thought this would please you, I know you
women are so fond of jew-gaws," and he handed [her] a pair of sleeve
buttons.

"Thank you," said she, as a faint smile illuminated her pallid cheek.
"This," she said turning to Miss Gordon, "is my husband, Josiah Gough."

"Good morning, Mr. Gough," said Belle bowing politely and extending her
hand. Joe returned the salutation very courteously and very quietly,
sitting down by the bedside, made some remarks about the dampness of the
weather. Mary lay very quiet, looking pitifully upon the mour[n]ful
wretch at her side, who seemed to regard her and her friend with intense
interest. It seemed from his countenance that remorse and shame were
rousing up his better nature. Once he rose as if to go--stood
irresolutely for a moment, and then sitting down by the bedside, clasped
her thin pale hand in his with a caressing motion, and said, "Mary
you've had a hard time, but I hope there are better days in store for
us, don't get out of heart," and there was a moisture in his eyes in
which for a moment beamed a tender, loving light. Belle immediately felt
her indignation changing to pity. Surely she thought within herself,
this man is worth saving--There is still love and tenderness within him,
notwithstanding all his self-ruin, he reminds me of an expression I have
picked up somewhere about "Old Oak," holding the young fibres at its
heart, I will appeal to that better nature, I will use it as a lever to
lift him from the depths into which he has fallen. While she was
thinking of the best way to approach him, and how to reach that heart
into whose hidden depths she had so unexpectedly glanced, he arose and
bending over his w