clear--had none of the effects of his wine-drinking at Elbridge's
remained, he would have resisted to the end this solicitation, at
the hour and under the circumstances. But his mind was not perfectly
clear. And so, a few steps being taken by compulsion, he moved on by
a sort of constrained volition.

As mentioned above, Wilkinson had nearly reached his own door when
he encountered Ellis; was, in fact, so near, that he could see the
light shining from the chamber-window through which, some hours
before, he had marked on the wall the flitting shadow of his wife,
as she walked to and fro, seeking to soothe into slumber her sick
and grieving child. For nearly five minutes, he had stood talking
with his friend, and the sound of their voices might easily have
been heard in his dwelling, if one had been listening intently
there. And one was listening with every sense strung to the acutest
perception. Just as Wilkinson moved away, an observer would have
seen the door of his house open, and a slender female form bend
forth, and look earnestly into the darkness. A moment or two, she
stood thus, and then stepped forth quickly, and leaning upon the
iron railing of the door steps, fixed eagerly her eyes upon the
slowly receding forms of the two men.

"John! John!" she called, in half suppressed tones.

But her voice did not reach the ear of her husband, whose form she
well knew, even in the obscurity of night.

Gliding down the steps, Mrs. Wilkinson ran a few paces along the
pavement, but suddenly stopped as some thought passed through her
mind; and, turning, went back to the door she had left. There she