ety and alarm? I ought to go home."

And now began an argument in his thoughts. The fact was, a sense of
exhaustion of body and depression of spirits had followed the effort
and trouble of the day, and Wilkinson felt a much stronger desire for
something stimulating to drink than he did for food. Elder's was a
drinking as well as an eating-house; and in deciding to go there,
instead of returning home, the real influence, although he did not
perceive it to be so, was the craving felt for a glass of brandy. And
now came the conflict between appetite and an instinctive sense of what
was due both to himself and his wife.

"It will only put her to trouble if I go home now." Thus he sought to
justify himself in doing what his better sense clearly condemned as
wrong.

"It will rather relieve her from trouble," was quickly answered to this.

For a little while Wilkinson stood undecided, then slowly retired to a
remote part of the store, took off his hat, and sat down to debate the
point at issue in his mind more coolly.

"I will go home early," said he to himself.

"Why not go home now?" was instantly replied.

"It is too late; Mary has given me up long ago."

"She will be extremely anxious."

"I can explain all."

"Better do it now than two or three hours later: poor Mary has suffered
enough already."

This last suggestion caused the image of his wife to come up before the
mind of Wilkinson very distinctly. He saw, now, her smile of winning
love; now, the sad drooping of her countenance, as he turned to leave
her alone for an evening; now, the glance of anxiety and fear with
which she so often greeted his return; and now, her pale,
grief-stricken face, after some one of his too many lapses from the
right way. And, in imagination, his thoughts went to his home in the
present moment. What did he see? A waiting, anxious, troubled wife, now
sitting with fixed and dreamy eyes; now moving about with restless
steps; and now standing at the street-door, eagerly straining her eyes
to see in the distance his approaching form. With such images of his
wife came no repulsive 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.