emembered only
that she loved this man, and that he had forgotten her. She cried
aloud----

"Francis, I am your wife."

"I have no wife," said the distraught man, looking listlessly beyond
her. "I am here to see Oliver--he is to give me some money."

"Don't you remember Mary, Francis? Look at me--look at me."

"Mary?" he said, doubtfully. "Oh, yes, I remember Mary. But you are not
Mary, are you?"

"Yes, indeed I am. Where have you been all this time? Oh, my poor dear,
you can't tell me! You are ill, Francis. Let me take care of you. Can
you tell me where you live?"

But he could not reply. His head drooped upon his breast: he looked as
if he neither saw nor heard. What was she to do?

Of one thing Mary was certain. Now that she had found her husband, she
was not going to lose sight of him again.

She would go with him whithersoever he went, unless he repelled her by
force. She gave one regretful thought to her young mistress, and to a
certain project which she had determined to put into effect that night,
and then she thought of the Brookes no more. She must leave them, and
follow her husband's fortunes. There was no other way for her.

Fortunately she had money in her pocket. She had also thrown a shawl
across her arm before she came to the door. The shawl belonged to Miss
Brooke, and had been offered to one of the guests as a loan; but Mary
had forgotten all about the guests, and appropriated the shawl, with the
cool resolution which characterized her in cases of emergency.
Necessity--especially the necessity entailed by love--knows no law. At
that moment she knew no law but that of her repressed and stunted, but
always abiding, affection for the husband who had burdened her life for
many weary years with toil and anxiety and care. For him she would do
anything--throw up all friendships, sacrifice her future, her character,
and, if need be, her life.

She wrapped the shawl round her head, and put her arm through her
husband's, without once looking back.

"Come, Francis," she said, quietly, "show me where you live now. We will
go home."

She led him unresistingly away. For a little while he walked as if in a
dream; but by and by his movements became more assured, and he turned so
decidedly in one direction that she saw he knew his way and was
pursuing it. She said nothing, but kept close to his side, with her hand
resting lightly on his arm. She was not mistaken in her expectations.
Francis went straigh