esence he desired more than all the world. It led him straight to
Jessie.

For the fraction of a second he became aware of a vision of womanhood,
to him the most perfect in all the world. He saw the well-loved face,
now pale and drawn with suffering and remorse. He saw the shadowed
eyes full of an affrighted, hunted expression. And, with a cry that
bore in its depth all the love of a heart as big as his small body, he
ran forward to clasp her in his arms.

But Jessie's voice arrested him half-way. It thrilled with hysterical
denial, with suffering, regret, horror. And so commanding was it that
he had no power to defy its mandate.

"No, no," she shrilled. "Keep back--back. You must not come near me. I
am not fit for you to touch."

"Not fit--?"

Scipio stared helplessly at her, his eyes settling uncertainly upon
her hands as though he expected to find upon them signs of some work
she might have been engaged upon--some work that left her, as she had
said, unfit to touch. His comprehension was never quick. His
imagination was his weakest point.

Then his eyes came to her well-loved face again, and he shook his
head.

"You--you got me beat, Jess. I--"

"Ah, Zip, Zip!" Suddenly Jessie's hands went up to her face and her
eyes were hidden. It was the movement of one who fears to witness the
hatred, the loathing, the scorn which her own accusing mind assures
her she merits. It was the movement of one whose heart was torn by
remorse and shame, whose eyes were open to her sins, and who realizes
that earthly damnation is her future lot. Her bosom heaved, and dry
sobs choked her. And the little man, who had come so far to claim her,
stood perplexed and troubled.

At last he struggled out a few words, longing to console, but scarcely
understanding how to go about it. All he understood was that she was
ill and suffering.

"Say, Jess, you mustn't to cry," he said wistfully. "Ther' ain't
nothin' to set you cryin'. Ther' sure ain't--"

But a woman's hysteria was a thing unknown to him, and his gentle
attempt was swept aside in a torrent of insensate denial.

"No, no! Don't come near me," she cried in a harsh, strident tone.
"Leave me. Leave me to my misery. Don't dare to come here mocking me.
Don't dare to accuse me. Who are you to accuse? You are no better than
me. You have no right to come here as my judge. You, with your smooth
ways, your quiet sneers. Don't you dare! Don't you dare! I'm no longer
your wife, so you h