Within an hour the doctor and Mrs. French drove up to the jail.  There, at the bleak north door, swept by the chill March wind, and away from the genial light of the shining sun, they found Paulina and her children, a shivering, timid, shrinking group, looking pathetically strange and forlorn in their quaint Galician garb.

The pathos of the picture appeared to strike both the doctor and his friend at the same time.

“Brute!” said the doctor, “it’s some beast of an understrapper.  He might have let them in, anyway.  I’ll see the head turnkey.”

“Isn’t it terribly sad?” replied Mrs. French.

The doctor rang the bell at the jail door, prepared for battle.

“I want to see Mr. Cowan.”

The guard glanced past the doctor, saw the shrinking group behind him and gruffly announced, “This is not the hour for visitors.”

“I want to see Mr. Cowan,” repeated the doctor slowly, looking the guard steadily in the eye.  “Is he in?”

“Come in,” said the guard sullenly, allowing the doctor and his friend to enter, and shutting the door in the faces of the Galicians.

In a few moments Mr. Cowan appeared, a tall athletic man, kindly of face and of manner.  He greeted Mrs. French and the doctor warmly.

“Come into the office,” he said; “come in.”

“Mr. Cowan,” said Mrs. French, “there is a poor Galician woman and her children outside the door, the wife and children of the man who was condemned yesterday.  The Judge told them they could see the prisoner to-day.”

“The hour for visitors,” said Mr. Cowan, “is three in the afternoon.”

“Could you not let her in now?  She has already waited for hours at the door this morning, and on being refused went home broken-hearted.  She does not understand our ways and is very timid.  I wish you could let her in now while I am here.”

Mr. Cowan hesitated.  “I should greatly like to oblige you, Mrs. French.  You know that.  Sit down, and I will see.  Let that woman and her children in,” he said to the guard.

The guard went sullenly to the door, followed by Mrs. French.

“Come in here,” he said in a gruff voice.

Mrs. French hurried past him, took Paulina by the arm, and saying, “Come in and sit down,” led her to a bench and sat beside her.  “It’s all right,” she whispered.  “I am sure you can see your husband.  Tell her,” she said to Irma.

In a short time Mr. Cowan came back.

“They may see him,” he said.  “It is against all discipline, but it is pretty hard to resist Mrs. French,” he continued, turning to the doctor.

“It is quite useless trying,” said the doctor; “I have long ago discovered that.”

“Come,” said that little lady, leading Paulina to the door of the cell.

The guard turned the lock, shot back the bolts, opened the door and motioning with his hand, said gruffly to Paulina, “Go in.”