said simply. "You know very well
that I cannot conceal you--"

"Oh, I don't expect miracles," said Goddard contemptuously. "I don't know
that, when I came here, I expected to cause you any particularly
agreeable sensation. I confess, when a woman has not seen her beloved
husband for three years, one might expect her to show a little feeling--"

"I will do what I can for you, Walter," said his wife, whose unnatural
calm was fast yielding to an overpowering agitation.

"Then give me fifty pounds and tell me the nearest way east," answered
the convict savagely.

"I have not got fifty pounds in the house," protested Mary Goddard, in
some alarm. "I never keep much money--I can get it for you--"

"I have a great mind to look," returned her husband suspiciously. "How
soon can you get it?"

"To-morrow night--the time to get a cheque cashed--"

"So you keep a banker's account?"

"Of course. But a cheque would be of no use to you--I wish it were!"

"Naturally you do. You would get rid of me at once." Suddenly his voice
changed. "Oh, Mary--you used to love me!" cried the wretched man, burying
his face in his hands.

"I was very wrong," answered his wife, looking away from him. "You did
not deserve it--you never did."

"Because I was unfortunate!"

"Unfortunate!" repeated Mary Goddard with rising scorn.
"Unfortunate--when you were deceiving me every day of your life. I could
have forgiven a great deal--Walter--but not that, not that!"

"What? About the money?" he asked with sudden fierceness.

"The money--no. Even though you were disgraced and convicted, Walter, I
would have forgiven that, I would have tried to see you, to comfort you.
I should have been sorry for you; I would have done what I could to help
you. But I could not forgive you the rest; I never can."

"Bah! I never cared for her," said the convict. But under his livid skin
there rose a faint blush of shame.

"You never cared for me--that is the reason I--am not glad to see you--"

"I did, Mary. Upon my soul I did. I love you still!" He rose and came
near to his wife, and again he would have put his arm around her. But she
sprang to her feet with an angry light in her eyes.

"If you dare to touch me, I will give you up!" she cried. Goddard shrank
back to his chair, very pale and trembling violently.

"You would not do that, Mary," he almost whined. But she remained
standing, looking at him very menacingly.

"Indeed I would--you don't know me," sh