think about his conduct."

"Oh," said Mary, her pale cheek growing whiter with apprehension;
"That's his footsteps now, Miss Belle don't say anything to him, Joe's
as good and kind a man as I ever saw when he is sober, but sometimes he
is really ugly when he has been drinking."

Just then the door was opened, and Joe Gough entered, or rather all that
remained of the once witty, talented and handsome Josiah Gough. His face
was pale and haggard, and growing premature by age, his wealth of raven
hair was unkempt and hung in tangled locks over his forehead, his hand
was unsteady and trembling from extreme nervousness, but he was sober
enough to comprehend the situation, and to feel a deep sense of remorse
and shame, when he gazed upon the weary head from whence he had bereft
its magnificent covering.

"Here Mary," said he approaching the bed, "I've brought you a present; I
only had four cents, and I thought this would please you, I know you
women are so fond of jew-gaws," and he handed [her] a pair of sleeve
buttons.

"Thank you," said she, as a faint smile illuminated her pallid cheek.
"This," she said turning to Miss Gordon, "is my husband, Josiah Gough."

"Good morning, Mr. Gough," said Belle bowing politely and extending her
hand. Joe returned the salutation very courteously and very quietly,
sitting down by the bedside, made some remarks about the dampness of the
weather. Mary lay very quiet, looking pitifully upon the mour[n]ful
wretch at her side, who seemed to regard her and her friend with intense
interest. It seemed from his countenance that remorse and shame were