y her a clear conscience, could I?

"She got as far as Moore's Flat. Hung around there several days till she
saw me at Haggerty's store. My old clothes must have disappointed her.
It would certainly humiliate any woman, good or bad, to associate with
such a scarecrow. So she cleared out, and went to San Francisco. I guess
she found out she was only a novice compared with the women down there.
And I guess in a year or two she was like all the rest. I tell you, it
was an awful thing to think of. It's bad enough to see a man go
wrong--but a woman!--and a woman you once loved--and still love, as God
still loves her!"

The old man had to pause here; and he arose abruptly, as if to put aside
his dishes; and Keeler, respecting his emotion, looked out of the
window.

"Well, last March, Harriet wrote me a letter. Gave me her address. Said
she was dying, and would like to see me. It was a week or more before
the letter reached me, for the trails were badly drifted and I had been
shut up here some time. John Woolsey brought the letter, and stayed
until I read it, to see if anything was wanted. Said he would look out
for Bruce and Sammy, so I got on my snow-shoes and started.

"I reached San Francisco next day. I almost wished the woman was dead,
as she had a right to be by that time. If she was dead, I wouldn't have
to say anything to hurt her. Well, I called at the address she gave,
which was in the edge of Chinatown. I tell you it was disgusting to run
the gauntlet there, among those creatures.--I found the woman had been
taken to the city hospital several days before and whether she was dead
or alive the head she-devil of the place didn't seem to know or care.

"I found her at the hospital, sure enough. The doctor said she was
getting better, and would probably live. I didn't know whether to be
glad or sorry; and I was tempted to go home and write her a letter. She
might not care to see me now, anyway.

"But I stayed and had a talk with her; and I am glad I did, though I
couldn't help remembering the old rhyme,

"When the Devil was sick, the Devil a saint would be:
When the Devil got well, the devil a saint was he."

"Harriet Chesney needed a friend, and she was glad to see me. She was
more than glad to know that I had come as soon as I could. Said she had
told herself I would not fail her--that it was the snow and the canon
and not some other reason that kept me away. Said she thought she was
going to die; and