not much strength to bear it: she is a miserable wreck from
opium-eating."

"Opium-eating? Can I go in?" said McCall.

"Certainly."

When the woman heard their steps on the corridor she said to
Catharine, "I hear my husband coming now."

"That will be pleasant for you," kindly, wondering to herself what
sort of a ruffian had chosen this creature for a mate and had the
burden of her to carry.

"Yes, I know his step," turning dully to the door. It opened, and Hugh
Guinness stood on the threshold.

He halted one brief moment. It seemed to Catharine that he was an
older man than she had known him.

"It is you, then, Louise?" he said calmly, going up to the bed and
looking down on her, his hands clasped, as usual, behind him.

"Yes, it is I. I thought you would like to see me and talk things over
before I died, Hugh." She held out her hand, but he did not touch it.
Looking at her a moment from head to foot as she lay in her unclean
garments, he turned to where the other woman stood, a ray of light
from the window shining on her fair hair and innocent face: "Do you
know that I am Hugh Guinness, Kitty?"

"I knew that long ago."

"_This_," nodding down at the pallet, "is my wife. Now do you know why
I could not go home to my father or to you?"

"God help us!" ejaculated Pollard. The next moment, remembering
himself, he put his hand on McCall's shoulder: "I understand. When you
were a boy, eh? Never mind: every man has his own trouble to carry."

"I've been a very real trouble to you, Hugh," whined Louise. "But I
always loved you: I always meant to come back to you."

"When her later husbands had abandoned her." McCall laughed savagely,
turning away.

She started up on the pallet, clenching her bony, dirty hands: "There
were faults on both sides. I never would have been the woman I am if
you had loved me. What will you do with me now?"

There was a dead silence in the cell, broken only by the heavy
breathing of the woman. McCall stood dumb, looking first at Catharine
and then at his wife.

"This is what he will do," said Kitty's clear, quiet tones. "You shall
be washed and dressed, and taken home as his wife, to live or die as
suits God's will."

"Never," muttered McCall.

"How soon can she leave this--this place?" she said, turning as if he
had not spoken to Pollard.

"As soon as she is able to be moved. But," hesitating, with a doubtful
look at McCall, "is that plan best?"

"Why, she's his wife!" w