The regiment was on the eve of removing to other quarters, and much as
he would have liked to leave his wife behind to shift for herself, he
dare not face the consequences. Coming to her lodgings, therefore, to
arrange about her journey, he found the woman hopelessly incapable.
His mad rage against her was inflamed by the drink he had just taken;
in his anger he was strongly tempted to rid himself of the burden she
had become. Nothing could be easier! No one had seen him enter the
house, and there was every chance of his being able to steal away
unperceived, in the dusk of the evening. An uncontrollable loathing
for the woman urged him on; conscience was disregarded. He seized one
of the pillows of the bed. It was merely necessary to press it over
her face, hold it there till life was extinct, and creep away, a free
man!

It must have been the ever-watching Angel Guardian of that wretched man
who touched his heart at that moment of danger, by a sudden grace. He
faltered; threw down the pillow, and swiftly ran from the room and from
the house--pursued by remorse.

An hour later, when he ventured to return, he was met on the threshold
with the tidings that his wife had been found dead of heart failure.

For many a year after that horrible day Archie McLean was tormented by
his reproachful conscience. He regarded himself as a murderer in
desire, though actually guiltless of his wife's blood. The terrible
shock was his salvation. From that day he never more touched strong
drink. The formerly inveterate drunkard, a great portion of whose time
was spent in the cells, rose by degrees to the position of the smartest
soldier in his company. When his long service had to come to an end,
he took a situation as gardener for a time; but a desire which had come