The twilight had just begun to fall, and Mrs. Ellis, with her babe in her arms, was sitting in one of the parlours, waiting for and thinking of her husband, when she heard his key in the door.  He came in, and moving along the entry with a quicker step than usual, went up-stairs.  Supposing that, not finding her above, he would come down to the parlours, Mrs. Ellis waited nearly five minutes.  Then she followed him up-stairs.  Not finding him in the nursery, she passed into their chamber.  Here she found him, lying across the bed, on which he had, evidently, thrown himself under some strong excitement, or abandonment, of feeling, for his head was not upon a pillow, and he lay perfectly motionless, as if unconscious of her presence.

“Henry!” She called his name, but he made no answer, nor gave even a sign.

“Henry!  Are you sick?”

There was a slight movement of his body, but no reply.

“Henry!  Henry!” Mrs. Ellis spoke in tones of anxiety, as she laid her hand upon him.  “Speak!  What is the matter?  Are you sick?”

A long deep sigh was the only answer.

“Why don’t you speak, Henry?” exclaimed Mrs. Ellis.  “You frighten me dreadfully.”

“Don’t trouble me just now, if you please,” said the wretched man, in a low, half-whispering voice.

“But what ails you, Henry?  Are you sick?”

“Yes.”

“How?  Where?  What can I do for you?”

“Nothing!” was faintly murmured.

By this time, Cara began to feel really alarmed.  Leaving the room hurriedly, she gave the babe she held in her arms to one of her domestics, and then returned.  Bending, now, over her husband, she took one of his hands, and clasping it tightly, said, in a voice of earnest affection that went to the heart of Ellis with electric quickness—­

“Do, Henry, say what ails you!  Can’t I get something for you?”

“I’ll feel better in a little while,” whispered Ellis.

“Let me send for the doctor.”

“Oh, no! no!  I’m not so sick as that,” was answered.  “I only feel a little faint, not having taken any dinner.”

“Why did you go without a meal?  It is not right to do so.  I waited for you so long, and was so disappointed that you did not come.”

There was more of tenderness and wife-like interest in Cara’s words and manner than had been manifested for a long time, and the feelings of Ellis were touched thereby.  Partly raising himself on his elbow, he replied—­

“I know it isn’t right; but I was so much engaged!”

The twilight pervading the room was too feeble to give Mrs. Ellis a distinct view of her husband’s countenance.  Its true expression, therefore, was veiled.

“You feel better now, do you?” she inquired tenderly.

“Yes, dear,” he answered, slightly pressing the hand she had laid in his.

“I will order tea on the table immediately.”

And Mrs. Ellis left the room.  When she returned, he had risen from the bed, and was sitting in a large chair near one of the windows.