on the picture we have presented, and think of
the many, many heart-aches you have given the tender, long-suffering,
loving one who clings to you yet so closely, and who, for your sake,
would even lay down, if needful, her very life.

Happily for Mrs. Wilkinson, her child lay in a sound sleep; for, with
the appearance of the edges of two teeth through her red and swollen
gums, the feverish excitement of her system yielded to a healthy
reaction.

Twelve o'clock was rung out clearly upon the hushed air of midnight;
and yet the poor wife was alone. One o'clock found her in a state of
agonized alarm, standing at the open street-door, and hearkening,
eagerly, first in one direction and then in another; yet all in
vain--for the absent one came not.

It was nearly two o'clock, and Mrs. Wilkinson, in the impotence of her
prolonged and intense anxiety and fear, had thrown herself, with a
groan, across her bed, when a sound in the street caught her ear.
Instantly she started up, while a thrill ran through every nerve. Feet
were on the door-steps; a key was in the lock--a moment more, and the
door opened and shut, and a familiar tread that made her heart leap
echoed along the passage. Her first impulse was to fly to meet the
comer, but a hand seemed to hold her back; and so, half reclining, she
awaited, with her heart beating violently, the appearance of him whose
strange absence had cost her so many hours of bitter anguish. A moment
or two more, and then an exclamation of surprise and almost terror,
fell from her lips. And well might she be startled at the appearance of
her husband.

Pale, haggard, covered with dust, and with large drops of perspiration
on his face, Wilkinson stood before his wife. With a grieving look he
gazed upon her for some moments, but did not speak.

"My husband!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilkinson as soon as she could recover
herself; and, as she uttered the words, she threw her arms around him,
and buried her weeping face on his bosom.

But Wilkinson tried to disengage her arms, saying, as he did so--

"Not this!--not this, Mary! I am unworthy of even your feeblest regard.
Speak to me coldly, harshly, angrily, if you will. That I deserve--but
nothing of kindness, nothing of love. Oh, that I were dead!"

"My husband! my husband! you are dearer to me than life!" was whispered
in reply, as Mary clung to him more closely.

Such evidences of love melted the strong man's heart. He tried to brace
himself up ag