Just then the door was opened, and Joe Gough entered, or rather all that remained of the once witty, talented and handsome Josiah Gough.  His face was pale and haggard, and growing premature by age, his wealth of raven hair was unkempt and hung in tangled locks over his forehead, his hand was unsteady and trembling from extreme nervousness, but he was sober enough to comprehend the situation, and to feel a deep sense of remorse and shame, when he gazed upon the weary head from whence he had bereft its magnificent covering.

“Here Mary,” said he approaching the bed, “I’ve brought you a present; I only had four cents, and I thought this would please you, I know you women are so fond of jew-gaws,” and he handed [her] a pair of sleeve buttons.

“Thank you,” said she, as a faint smile illuminated her pallid cheek.  “This,” she said turning to Miss Gordon, “is my husband, Josiah Gough.”

“Good morning, Mr. Gough,” said Belle bowing politely and extending her hand.  Joe returned the salutation very courteously and very quietly, sitting down by the bedside, made some remarks about the dampness of the weather.  Mary lay very quiet, looking pitifully upon the mour[n]ful wretch at her side, who seemed to regard her and her friend with intense interest.  It seemed from his countenance that remorse and shame were rousing up his better nature.  Once he rose as if to go—­stood irresolutely for a moment, and then sitting down by the bedside, clasped her thin pale hand in his with a caressing motion, and said, “Mary you’ve had a hard time, but I hope there are better days in store for us, don’t get out of heart,” and there was a moisture in his eyes in which for a moment beamed a tender, loving light.  Belle immediately felt her indignation changing to pity.  Surely she thought within herself, this man is worth saving—­There is still love and tenderness within him, notwithstanding all his self-ruin, he reminds me of an expression I have picked up somewhere about “Old Oak,” holding the young fibres at its heart, I will appeal to that better nature, I will use it as a lever to lift him from the depths into which he has fallen.  While she was thinking of the best way to approach him, and how to reach that heart into whose hidden depths she had so unexpectedly glanced, he arose and bending over his wife imprinted upon her lips a kiss in which remorse and shame seemed struggling for expression, and left the room.

“Mother Graham,” said Belle, “a happy thought has just struck me, Couldn’t we induce Mr. Gough to attend the meeting of the Reform Club?  Mr. R.N. speaks tonight and he has been meeting with glorious success as a Temperance Reformer, hundreds of men, many of them confirmed drunkards, have joined, and he is doing a remarkable work, he does not wait for the drunkards to come to him, he goes to them, and wins them by his personal sympathy, and it is wonderful the good he has done, I do wish he would go.”

“I wish so too,” said Martha Graham.