"''Tisn't every professor has the right sort. When I heard your prayer, I thought maybe yours was the sort the minister meant, that it might be a support in time of need. I know 'his' didn't help him.'" [Illustration] CHAPTER XXVI. END OF THE MERE PROFESSOR. "POOR woman!" exclaimed Helen, wiping her eyes. "I never saw anything to dislike in her, except that she was Mr. Tracy's wife. I ought to have pitied her for that. And, only think, she loves him still; loves him better for his reverses, and the loss of his mind." "Did you see Mr. Tracy?" inquired Frederic. "I went to the Penitentiary within an hour. I can't tell you how her appearance and her devotion to her husband affected me. First, I went to the hospital, where I heard Monson P. Tracy spent the most of his time. He was not there. One of the wardens told me I might possibly find him in the cook's department, or in the blacksmith's shop, where he had taken a fancy to work. "Then I went to the office of the physician. He told me that the Mogul, as Mr. Tracy was called, proved so harmless that he was allowed considerable freedom. That he often assisted in the kitchen, hanging clothes on the lines, preparing vegetables for the soups, etc. "While we were talking, I heard a loud shouting, with suppressed laughter. "'Look!' said Dr. Smalley, pointing to a scene under the window. "I went forward, and there on a tub turned bottom-side up, stood Monson P. Tracy, haranguing the prisoners in their cells. From every grated window some hardened face might be seen, watching with a grin, the antics of the insane man. "I listened. He was repeating one of his speeches, with all the bombast and pomp you can imagine. He fancied himself in the Senate chamber, and stopped continually for the applause he expected from his audience of convicts. The sight sickened me, and I turned away in disgust. "'This is one of his most harmless fancies,' remarked Dr. Smalley. 'I am afraid he has been a very wicked man, corrupt to the core. Sometimes he imagines himself in a prayer-meeting, and makes remarks or offers prayer. Then in half an hour he is describing with a chuckle peculiar to himself' (you remember it, Helen), 'scenes in his past life, the advantage he has taken of others, his own shrewdness in evading the law, etc., etc.' "'Is his case hopeless?' I asked. "'If you refer to the recovery of his reason, that is simply impossible. He has softening of the brain.' "'The Penitentiary does not seem the proper place for him,' I suggested cautiously. "He looked fixedly in my face a moment, and then said: 'Of course not. He should be in the Insane Asylum.' "'Would it be a difficult matter to have him transferred there?' "'I thought, Mr. Edmond,' he exclaimed after a moment's pause, 'that Monson P. Tracy was left in charge of your property and that he was guilty of a breach of trust!' "'You thought correctly.' "'Still you wish his situation improved?'