As the latter had anticipated, wine and cigars were produced
immediately on their arrival at the house of Elbridge; and in the
exhilaration of the one and the fumes of the other, he soon forgot
his lonely, troubled wife and sick child at home.

A friend or two dropped in, in the course of half an hour; and then
a second bottle of wine was uncorked, and glasses refilled with its
sparkling contents.

The head of Wilkinson was not very strong. A single glass of wine
generally excited him, and two or three proved, always, more than he
could bear. It was so on this occasion; and when, at eleven o'clock,
he passed forth from the house of his friend, it was only by an
effort that he could walk steadily. The cool night air, as it
breathed upon his heated brow, partially sobered him, and his
thoughts turned towards his home. A sigh and the act of striking his
hand upon his forehead marked the effect of this transition of
thought.

"Poor Mary! I didn't mean to stay away so late. I meant to return in
half an hour," he muttered, half aloud. "But this is always the way.
I'm afraid I've taken too much of Elbridge's wine; a little affects
me. I wonder if Mary will notice it; I wouldn't have her to do so
for the world. Poor child! it would frighten her to death. I rather
think I'd better try to walk off the effects of what I've been
drinking. It's late, any how, and fifteen or twenty minutes will
make but little difference either way."

As Wilkinson said this, he turned down a cross street which he
happened to be passing at the moment, and moved along with a quicker