CHAPTER I.
"YOU are not going out, John ?" said Mrs.Wilkinson, looking up from the work she had just taken into her hands.

There was a smile on her lips; but her eyes told, plainly enough, that a cloud was upon her heart.
Mrs.Wilkinson was sitting by a small work-table, in a neatly furnished room.

It was evening, and a shaded lamp burned upon the table.

Mr.
Wilkinson, who had been reading, was standing on the floor, having thrown down his book and risen up hastily, as if a sudden purpose had been formed in his mind.
"I shall only be gone a little while, dear," returned Mr.Wilkinson, a slight air of impatience visible beneath his kind voice and manner.
"Don't go, John," said Mrs.Wilkinson, still forcing a smile to her countenance.

"I always feel so lonely when you are away.