In the pause that followed they looked hard into one another's eyes.
Then the man answered in six words. Pushing away the hand that offered
him a great tight-rolled mass of paper money, he said, "Put that
away--now, come on," and they entered the carriage, and drove to the
home of a minister. There a curious thing happened. They had answered
satisfactorily the reverend gentleman's many questions before he quite
realized _who_ the woman was. When he did recognize her, he refused to
perform the ceremony, and with words of contemptuous condemnation
literally drove them from the house, and with his ecclesiastical hand
banged the door after them.

They visited another minister, and their second experience differed from
their first in two points,--the gentleman was quicker in his recognition
and refusal, and refrained from banging the door. And so they drove up
and down and across the city, till at last they stood at the carriage
door and looked helpless at each other. Then the man said, "That's the
last one, Kate," and the woman answered, "Yes, I know--I know." She drew
a long, hard breath that was not far from a sob, and added, "Yes,
they've downed me; but it wasn't a fair game, Jim, for they've played
with marked cards."

She had entered the carriage when the driver with the all-pervading
knowledge and unlimited assurance of the Western hackman remarked
genially: "Madame Elize, there's another gospel-sharp out on the edge of
the town. He's poorer than Job's turkey, and his whole dorgon'd little
scantlin' church ain't bigger than one of them Saratogy trunks, but his
people just swear by him. Shall I take you out there?"

Madame Elize nodded an assent, and once more they started. It was a long