he old
storm should break out again--

"Y'see, Jess, ther' ain't nuthin' to our pore little shack on the
'dumps' without you. Ther' sure ain't. Then ther's my claim. I sold
ha'f. An'--an' I got money now--I--"

The woman's eyes turned slowly upon him. They were red with unshed
tears. Their expression was curious. There was doubt and shrinking in
them. It almost seemed as if she were wondering if all the past days
of regret and longing had turned her brain, and she were listening to
words conjured by a distorted fancy, some insane delusion. She could
not believe. But Scipio continued, and his voice was real enough.

"I--know I ain't much of a feller for the likes of you, Jess," he said
earnestly. "I ain't quick. I ain't jest bright. But I do love you, my
dear. I love you so I can't think nothin' else. I want you to home,
Jess, that bad, I thank God ev'ry day He give you to me. I want you so
bad it don't seem you ever bin away from me. I want you that bad I
can't remember the last week or so. You'll come--to home, gal--now?
Think--jest think o' them bits o' twins. You wait till you see 'em
laff when they get eyes on you. Say, they're that bonny an' bright.
They're jest like you, wi' their eyes all a-sparklin', an' their
cheeks that rosy. Gee! they're jest a-yearnin' an' a-callin' fer their
mam--same as me."

The little man had moved another step nearer. His arms were still
outstretched, and his quaint face was all aglow with the warmth and
love that stirred him. Somewhere in the back of his dull head he knew
that he was pleading for something more than his life. He had no
subtlety in his manner or his words. It was just his heart talking for
him and guiding him.

And in the woman had risen a sudden hope. It was a struggling ray of
light in the blackness of her despair. It was a weak struggling
flicker--just a flicker. And even as it rose its power was dashed
again in the profundity of her suffering. She could not grasp the hand
held out--she could not see it. She could not believe the words her
ears heard.

"No, no, don't mock at me," she cried, with a sudden return to her old
wildness. "It is cruel, cruel! Leave me. For pity's sake go. How can
you stand there taunting me so? How can I go with you? How can I face
my children now? Do you know what I am? No, no, of course you don't.
You could never understand. You, with your foolish, simple mind. Shall
I tell you what I am? Shall I say it? Shall I--"

But the man'