y believe my eyes. Ellis! I read at a
single glance her countenance, marred by long suffering, and found in
it only the sad evidences of patient endurance. She is changed. I am
bold to say that. If she erred, she has repented."

"But not atoned for a wrong that is irreparable," said Ellis in a
dogged tone, while his heavy brows contracted.

"Ah! how changed you are, Ellis: once so kind-hearted, so forgiving and
forbearing!"

"And what changed me? Answer me that, John Wilkinson! Yes, I am
changed--changed from a man into--into--yes, let me say the word--into
a devil! And who held the enchanter's wand? Who? The wife of my bosom!"

Wilkinson felt a shudder creeping along his nerves as he looked at the
excited man, and heard his words.

"Cara never acts toward you, now, other than with kindness," said he.

But Ellis made no answer to this.

"Let the past suffice, my friend," added Wilkinson. "Both have suffered
enough. Resolve, in the strength of God and your own manhood, to rise
out of the horrible pit and miry clay into which you have fallen."

"That is impossible. So we won't talk about it," said Ellis,
impatiently. "Lend me half a dollar, won't you?"

The hand of Wilkinson went instinctively to his pocket. But he withdrew
it, without the coin he had designed, from the moment's impulse, to
give. Shaking his head, he replied to the application,

"I can't give you money, Ellis."

"You can't?"

"No; for that would be no real kindness. But, if you will reform your
life; if you will abandon drink, and become a sober, industrious man, I
will pledge myself to procure you a good situation as clerk. In a few
years you may regain all that has been lost."

"Bah!" muttered Ellis, grinding his teeth as he spoke. "All good talk!"
and, turning away, he passed from the store of his old friend. Without
a cent in his pocket, and burning with a desire for drink, he had
conquered all reluctance and shame, and applied, as we have seen, to an
old friend, for money. Two or three other ineffectual attempts were
made to get small sums, but they proved fruitless. For some time he
wandered about the streets; then he entered one of the lower class of
taverns, and boldly called for a glass of liquor. But the keeper of
this den, grown suspicious by experience, saw in the face or manner of
Ellis that he had no money, and coolly demanded pay before setting
forth his bottle. It was just at this untimely crisis that Henry came
in, and, ta