"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!" with her innocent eyes wide. "He has no right to desert her. She will die if she is not properly cared for," turning to McCall. "Do you stay with me: don't leave me," holding Kitty's sleeve. "If you would nurse me, I should get well." "It is impossible that the lady should nurse you," said Pollard. Kitty sat down: she began to tremble and turn white. "She has nobody but me. I'll stay," she said quietly. McCall beckoned his fellow-physician out into the corridor. "My dear fellow--" Pollard began. "No: I know you sympathize with me. But we will not talk of this matter. Is that woman dying?" "I'm afraid--that is, I think not. She is decidedly better to-day than she was last night. With care she may recover." Kitty came out and stood with them in the corridor. McCall looked at her with amazement. The shy, silly school-girl, afraid to find her way about Berrytown, bore herself in this desperate juncture like the sagest of matrons. "Is there no hospital to which she can be taken?" she said to Pollard. "Yes, of course, of course." "I'll go with her there, then. You know," laying her hand on McCall's arm, "you _did_ marry her. You ought to try to help her poor body and soul as long as she lives." "Would you have me take her as my wife again?" "Not for an hour!" cried Kitty vehemently. She went into the cell, but came back in a moment: "Will you bring me some breakfast? I shall not be of much use here until it comes." "She has more of the angel in her than any woman I ever knew," muttered McCall. "She has a good deal of common sense, apparently," rejoined Pollard. * * * * *