ht of you all coming to see me in
the madhouse, your kind face, Morris, coming up distinctly before me,
just as it would look at me if I were really crazed. But all this was
swept away like a hurricane when I heard the rest, the part about
Genevra, Wilford's other wife."

Katy was panting for breath and Morris brought the wine again, after
which she went on with the story, which made Morris clinch his hands as
he comprehended the deceit which had been practiced so long. Of course
he did not look at it as Katy did, for he knew that according to all
civil law she was as really Wilford's wife as if no other had existed,
and he told her so, but Katy shook her head: "He can't have two wives
living, and I tell you I knew the picture--Genevra is not dead. I have
seen her; I have talked with her--Genevra is not dead."

"Granted that she is not," Morris answered, "the divorce remains the
same."

"I do not believe in divorces. 'Whom God hath joined together let no man
put asunder,'" Katy said with an air which implied that from this
argument there could be no appeal.

"That is the Scripture I know," Morris replied, "but you must remember
that for one sin our Savior permitted a man to put away his wife, thus
making it perfectly right."

"But in Genevra's case the sin did not exist. She was as innocent as I
am, and that must make a difference."

She was very earnest in her attempts to prove that Genevra was still a
lawful wife, so earnest that a dark suspicion entered Morris's mind,
finding vent in the question, "Katy, don't you love your husband, that
you try so hard to prove he is not yours?"

There were red spots all over Katy's face and neck as she saw the
meaning put upon her actions, and covering her face with her hands she
sobbed violently as she replied: "I do, oh, yes, I do. I never loved any
one else. I would have died for him once. Maybe I would die for him now;
but, Morris, I fear he is disappointed in me. Our tastes are not alike,
and we made a great mistake, or Wilford did when he took me for his
wife. I was better suited to most anybody else, and I have been so
wicked since, forgetting all the good I ever knew, forgetting prayer
save as I went through the form from old habit's sake, forgetting God,
who has overtaken me at last and punished me so sorely that every nerve
smarts with the stinging blows."

Oh, how lovingly, how earnestly Morris talked to Katy then, telling her
of Him who smites but to heal, who