It was a very quiet hour for Kate. The ward was a small one, containing only four beds, and no other patient in it. The nurses were busy, and had all gone away, leaving her alone. A wintry sunshine was falling through the farthest window upon the bare white walls. Her mind was strangely divided between Mrs. Duffy and Philip Carey, whose life was spent mostly within these walls. He had spoken so kindly, even affectionately, to this poor, friendless old woman, but he had not spoken a word to her. How was it that he could be so fickle, so cruel towards her? What reason or motive could possibly have made him change his mind so suddenly and so dishonourably, and plunge her into so much wretchedness and perplexity? She could not bear to meet him, yet she would have to bear it, for her father was so fond of him. How proud and happy her father would have been in him as his son in-law! It was too hard even to think of. Perhaps she would even have the misery some day of seeing his wife, the girl who had supplanted her, and made her life a blank. For Kate felt sure that it would be impossible for her ever to love another man. No one else could be to her what Philip Carey had been. The hour passed away, and there were several quiet signs of excitement. Dr. Layard and Dr. Carey came in, felt the old woman’s pulse, and gave her a cordial. Kate was told that if she could be calm she had better remain where she was, as Mrs. Duffy held her hand closely, and wished her to stay. Three or four strange gentlemen came in, and stood about the bed, while Mrs. Duffy, in very feeble tones, told her story, which was written down, word for word, from her lips. She had not much to say, and it was soon over. ‘Could you identify the individual?’ inquired the magistrate’s clerk. ‘Should you know the man again?’ asked Dr. Carey, who was standing close to Kate, and near old Mrs. Duffy. ‘Ay, to be sure,’ she answered, with more energy than she had displayed before. ‘He has been taken;’ said Dr. Layard; ‘that is, a man has been taken up, and we think he is the man. You must see him yourself.’ The old woman shuddered, and grasped Kate’s hand tightly. It might have been Dr. Carey’s hand, for he seemed conscious of the close grasp, and answered to it. ‘Come, come,’ he said, encouragingly, ‘you never used to be a coward; and you have only to open your eyes, and look at him. You have plenty of friends about you, you know.’ ‘He’s a dreadful man,’ she said, in a whisper, ‘but let him come.’