thought to the mind of Wilkinson.  Ever loving, tender, patient, forbearing, and true-hearted had Mary been.  Not once in the whole of their married life had she jarred the chord that bound them together, with a touch of discord.  He could only think of her, therefore, with love, and a feeling of attraction; and this it was that saved him in the present hour.  Starting up suddenly, he said, “I will go home:  why have I hesitated an instant?  My poor Mary!  Heaven knows you have already suffered enough through my short-comings and wanderings from the way of right and duty.  I am walking a narrow path, with destruction on either hand:  if I get over safely, it will be through you as my sustaining angel.”

A skilful limner, at least in this instance, was the imagination of Wilkinson.  Much as it had been pictured to his thoughts was the scene at home.  Poor Mary! with what trembling anxiety did she wait and hope for her husband’s coming, after the usual hour for his return had passed.  Now she sat motionless, gazing on some painful image that was presented to her mind; now she moved about the room from an unquietness of spirit that would not let her be still; and now she bent her ear towards the street, and listened almost breathlessly for the sound of her husband’s footsteps.  Thus the time passed from two until three o’clock, the dinner yet unserved.

“Oh, what can keep him away so long?”

How many, many times was this spoken audibly!  Now her heart beat with a quick, panting motion, as the thought of some accident to her husband flitted through the mind of Mrs. Wilkinson; now its irregular motion subsided, and it lay almost still, with a heavy pressure; for the fear lest he had again been tempted from the path of sobriety came with its deep and oppressive shadow.

And thus the lingering moments passed.  Three o’clock came, and yet Mr. Wilkinson was absent.

“I can bear this suspense no longer,” said the unhappy wife.  “Something has happened.”

And as she said this, she went quickly into her chamber to put into execution some suddenly-formed resolution.  Opening a wardrobe, she took therefrom her bonnet and a shawl.  But, ere she had thrown the latter around her shoulders, she paused, with the words on her lips—­

“If business should have detained him at his store, how will my appearance there affect him?  I must think of that.  I do not want him to feel that I have lost confidence in him.”

While Mrs. Wilkinson stood, thus musing, her ear caught the sound of her husband’s key in the lock of the street-door.  How quickly were her bonnet and shawl returned to their places!  How instant and eager were her efforts to suppress all signs of anxiety at the prolonged absence!

“He must not see that I have been over-anxious,” she murmured.

The street-door closed; Mr. Wilkinson’s well-known tread sounded along the passage and up the stairway.  With what an eager discrimination was the ear of his wife bent towards him for a sign that would indicate the condition in which he returned to her!  How breathless was her suspense!  A few moments, and the door of her room opened.