"Would you have me take her as my wife again?"

"Not for an hour!" cried Kitty vehemently. She went into the cell, but
came back in a moment: "Will you bring me some breakfast? I shall not
be of much use here until it comes."

"She has more of the angel in her than any woman I ever knew,"
muttered McCall.

"She has a good deal of common sense, apparently," rejoined Pollard.

* * * * *

Kitty went with McCall's wife to the hospital, and helped to nurse her
for a week. Pains and chills and nausea she could help, but for the
deeper disease of soul, for the cure of which Kitty prayed on her
knees, often with tears, there was little hope in her simple remedies,
unless the cure and its evidence lay deep enough for only God's eye to
see.

The woman's nature, of a low type at birth, had grown more brutal
with every year of drunkenness and vice. She died at last, alone with
Kitty.

"She said, the last thing, 'God be merciful to me a sinner!'"
Kitty told the chaplain. "But I am afraid she hardly understood the
meaning."

"He understood, my dear child. We can leave her with Him, You must