ainst what, in his pride, he felt to be a weakness, but
failed, and leaning his face downward until it rested upon the head of
his wife, sobbed aloud.

CHAPTER IX.

WILKINSON, on leaving the presence of the man who, under the guise of
friendship, had so basely led him astray, and robbed him--it was
robbery, in fact, for Carlton had not only enticed his victim to drink
until his mind was confused, but had played against him with trick and
false dealing--passed, not by the bar-room of the hotel, but through
one of the passages, into the open air, and with hurried steps, and
mind all in a whirl of excitement, started on foot for home. He was not
in a state to consider exactly what he was doing--he did not reflect
that he was at least ten miles from the city, and that it would take
him hours to walk that distance. His predominant feeling was a desire
to escape from the presence of the man who had so basely betrayed and
almost ruined him.

It was a calm, clear, summer night; and the full moon, which had
reached the zenith, shone with an unusual radiance. Not a leaf moved on
the forest trees, for even the zephyrs were asleep. All was stillness
and tranquil beauty.

Yet nature did not mirror herself on the feelings of Wilkinson, for
their surface was in wild commotion. The unhappy man was conscious only
of the folly he had committed and the wrong he had sustained; and
thought only of his culpable weakness in having been drawn, by a
specious villain, to the very verge of ruin.

Onward he strode, toward the city, with rapid pace, and soon his
thoughts began to go forward towards his home.

"Poor Mary!" he sighed, as the image of his wife, when she said to
him--"I count the hours when you are away," arose before his eyes.
Then, as the image grew more and more distinct, his hands were clenched
tightly, and he murmured through his shut teeth--

"Wretch! cruel wretch, that I am! I shall break her heart! Oh, why did
I not resist this temptation? Why was I so thoughtless of the best, the
truest, the most loving friend I ever knew or ever can know--my Mary!"

Rapid as his steps had been from the first, the thought of his wife
caused Wilkinson to increase his pace, and he moved along, the only
passenger at that hour upon the road, at almost a running speed. Soon
the perspiration was gushing freely from every pore, and this, in a
short time, relieved the still confused pressure on the brain of the
alcohol which had been