ing with,
and if luck should go against her she would have to return empty handed;
but then she always trusted to luck, and it had never forsaken her. Her
mode of life, precarious and uncertain, dangerous and unsatisfactory as
it might seem to an onlooker, never troubled her. She was in that state
of glorious physical health and strength which lends an unlimited
confidence to the mind, a sense of being able to cope with any
difficulty which might suddenly present itself, when every present or
possible trouble looks small, and when mere life itself, the mere
sensation of the blood being warm in one's veins, is a joy. She loved
the excitement, even the uncertainty of her life, and she had more
friends in the town than she could count, who would be glad to lend her
all she needed if her luck failed.

That night, when Katrine lay fast asleep in her small inner room, her
curly head tucked down comfortably under the rugs, she dreamed she heard
a knocking on her door. The sound seemed faint at first, but grew
louder, and after a minute she woke up, lifted her head, and listened.
Yes, there was a tapping on her door, she heard it quite distinctly.
She got up immediately, slipped into her fur coat and boots, and taking
one of her pistols in her hand, went to the door. That there was danger
in answering such a summons at such an hour she knew quite well, but
that did not hinder her. She was accustomed to live with her life in her
hand, and she felt instinctively confident of being able so to hold it,
and meant to keep a tight grip on it. When she opened the door it was to
a vivid moonlight, clear and brighter than day; the whole white world
was shining under it.

"Annie!" she exclaimed as her eyes fell on the slight, feeble figure
muffled in a blanket that stood on her steps. "What is the matter? Come
in," and she put the door wide open and stood back for her to pass.

"Oh, Katie," she said, seizing the other's hands when they stood inside
the room, "forgive me for waking you, but I want Will. I feel I'm going
to die to-night, and I can't without him--I can't," and she burst into a
flood of tears broken by short sobbing coughs. She had slipped to her
knees and was holding Katrine's hands in a feverish clutch. The blanket
had fallen from her head and shoulders, and showed to Katrine that she
was still in her day dress; it did not seem as if she had been to bed at
all. There was a dark, half-dried stain upon the front of her bodi