the light might get through."

"Poor Joan Laval!" said Pauline. "Body and mind gave out. She was
different at first."

"Do you think it was the prison?" asked Adolphus, quickly, like a man
halting between two opinions,--there was no knowing which way he would
jump.

"Something broke her down," replied his wife. She was looking from one
window,--he from another.

"Joan Laval was Joan Laval," said Adolphus, with an effort. "Always
was. Frightened at her own shadow, I suppose. But--there! we won't
think of it. I know how it looks to you, Pauline. Very well,--I don't
see why we should make ourselves miserable for the sake of somebody who
has got to be miserable anyhow,--and deserves it, I suppose, or he
wouldn't be where he is."

"Poor fellow!" sighed Pauline,--as if it were now her turn on the rack.

Here Adolphus let the matter rest. He had overcome his own scruples so
far as honestly to make this proposal to his wife. But he would do no
more than propose,--not for an instant urge the point. Surely, that
could not be required of him. Charity, he remembered, begins at home.

But Pauline could not let the matter rest here. Her struggle was yet to
come. It was she, then, who alone was unwilling to sacrifice her
present home for the sake of a stranger and prisoner!