ed him with the kindness and consideration that were so
grateful to his feelings; and he spent the evening, safe from all
dangers, at home.

CHAPTER XVII.

"WILL you have the money now, dear?" said Mrs. Wilkinson, as she arose,
with her husband, from the dinner-table, on the day she announced to
him the fact that she had saved a few hundred dollars, out of the
amount given her for the expenses of the family.

"No, not to-day," replied Wilkinson. "In fact, Mary," he added, "I
don't feel just right about taking your money; and I think I must
manage to get along without it."

"John!" Mrs. Wilkinson seemed hurt by her husband's words.

"It is yours, Mary," was replied with much tenderness of manner. "You
have saved it for some particular purpose, and I shall not feel happy
to let it go back again and become absorbed in my business."

"Have we divided interests, John?" said Mrs. Wilkinson, in a low,
serious voice, as she clung to her husband's arm, and looked steadily
into his face.

"I hope not, Mary."

"Am I not your wife?"

"Yes, yes; and one of the best of wives."

"And do I not love you?"

"Never for a single moment has a doubt of your love been whispered in
my heart."

"Such a whisper would have wronged me. Yes, my husband, I do love you,
and as my very life."

Wilkinson bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

"Love ever seeks to bless its object," continued Mary, "and finds, in
doing so, its purest delight. Do you think I could use the money I
have, in any way that would bring me so much pleasure as by placing it
in your hands? Surely your heart says no."

"I will take it, dear," said Wilkinson, after a slight pause. His voice
was unsteady as he spoke; "and you will have your reward," he added, in
tones filled with a prophecy for the future.

"Never--never--never shall act of mine bring a shadow to that dear
face!" was the mental ejaculation of Wilkinson, as, with an impulse of
affection he could not restrain, he threw his arms around his wife and
hugged her to his bosom.

"Bless you! Bless you, Mary!" came, almost sobbing, from his
overflowing heart.

On his way to his store, that afternoon, Wilkinson felt the old desire
to stop and get his usual glass of brandy, and he was actually about to
enter a drinking-house, when the image of his wife came so distinctly
before his mind, that it seemed almost like a personal presence. He saw
a shadow upon her face, and the dimness of tears was