lent temper;
prompt to take offense, and not, for the most part, easy to appease. But
Mrs. Karnegie being--as we all are in our various degrees--a compound of
many opposite qualities, possessed a character with more than one side
to it, and had her human merits as well as her human faults. Seeds of
sound good feeling were scattered away in the remoter corners of her
nature, and only waited for the fertilizing occasion that was to help
them to spring up. The occasion exerted that benign influence when the
cab brought Mr. Crum's client back to the hotel. The face of the weary,
heart-sick woman, as she slowly crossed the hall, roused all that was
heartiest and best in Mrs. Karnegie's nature, and said to her, as if in
words, "Jealous of this broken creature? Oh, wife and mother is there no
appeal to your common womanhood _here?_"

"I am afraid you have overtired yourself, ma'am. Let me send you
something up stairs?"

"Send me pen, ink, and paper," was the answer. "I must write a letter. I
must do it at once."

It was useless to remonstrate with her. She was ready to accept any
thing proposed, provided the writing materials were supplied first. Mrs.
Karnegie sent them up, and then compounded a certain mixture of eggs and
hot wine for which The Sheep's Head was famous, with her own hands. In
five minutes or so it was ready--and Miss Karnegie was dispatched by
her mother (who had other business on hand at the time) to take it up
stairs.

After the lapse of a few moments a cry of alarm was heard from the upper
landing. Mrs. Karnegie recognized her daughter's voice, and hastened to
the bedroom floor.

"Oh, mamma! Look at her! look at her!"

The letter was on the table with the first lines written. The woman was
on the sofa with her handkerchief twisted between her set teeth, and her
tortured face terrible to look at. Mrs. Karnegie raised her a little,
examined her closely--then suddenly changed color, and sent her daughter
out of the room with directions to dispatch a messenger instantly for
medical help.

Left alone with the sufferer, Mrs. Karnegie carried her to her bed. As
she was laid down her left hand fell helpless over the side of the bed.
Mrs. Karnegie suddenly checked the word of sympathy as it rose to her
lips--suddenly lifted the hand, and looked, with a momentary sternness
of scrutiny, at the third finger. There was a ring on it. Mrs.
Karnegie's face softened on the instant: the word of pity that had been
s