a little and looked at them out of her
sunken eyes.

"Thank you. Won't you be seated?" she said, with a politeness and a
softness of tone that sounded almost uncanny coming from such a source.

"We heard that you were sick, and have come to see if we could not help
you," said Mrs. Lancaster, in a tone of sympathy, leaning over the bed.

"Yes," said Mr. Rimmon, in his full, rich voice, which made the little
room resound; "it is our high province to minister to the sick, and
through the kindness of this dear lady we may be able to remove you to
more commodious quarters--to some one of the charitable institutions
which noble people like our friend here have endowed for such persons as
yourself?"

[Illustration: "It is he! 'Tis he!" she cried.]

Something about the full-toned voice with its rising inflection caught
the invalid's attention, and she turned her eyes on him with a quick
glance, and, half raising her head, scanned his face closely.

"Mr. Rimmon, here, may be able to help you in other ways too," Mrs.
Lancaster again began; but she got no further. The name appeared to
electrify the woman.

With a shriek she sat up in bed.

"It is he! 'Tis he!" she cried. "You are the very one. You will help me,
won't you? You will find him and bring him back to me?" She reached out
her thin arms to him in an agony of supplication.

"I will help you,--I shall be glad to do so,--but whom am I to bring
back? How can I help you?"

"My husband--Ferdy--Mr. Wickersham. I am the girl you married that night
to Ferdy Wickersham. Don't you remember? You will bring him back to me?
I know he would come if he knew."

The effect that her words, and even more her earnestness, produced was
remarkable. Mrs. Lancaster stood in speechless astonishment.

Mr. Rimmon for a moment turned ashy pale. Then he recovered himself.

"She is quite mad," he said in a low tone to Mrs. Lancaster. "I think we
had better go. She should be removed to an asylum."

But Mrs. Lancaster could not go. Just then the woman stretched out her
arms to her.

"You will help me? You are a lady. I loved him so. I gave up all for
him. He married me. Didn't you marry us, sir? Say you did. Mr. Plume
lost the paper, but you will give me another, won't you?"

The commiseration in Mr. Rimmon's pale face grew deeper and deeper. He
rolled his eyes and shook his head sadly.

"Quite mad--quite mad," he said in an undertone. And, indeed, the next
moment it appeared but too