A moment or two more, and then an exclamation of surprise and almost terror, fell from her lips.

And well might she be startled at the appearance of her husband.
Pale, haggard, covered with dust, and with large drops of perspiration on his face, Wilkinson stood before his wife.

With a grieving look he gazed upon her for some moments, but did not speak.
"My husband!" exclaimed Mrs.Wilkinson as soon as she could recover herself; and, as she uttered the words, she threw her arms around him, and buried her weeping face on his bosom.
But Wilkinson tried to disengage her arms, saying, as he did so-- "Not this!--not this, Mary! I am unworthy of even your feeblest regard.
Speak to me coldly, harshly, angrily, if you will.

That I deserve--but nothing of kindness, nothing of love.

Oh, that I were dead!" "My husband! my husband! you are dearer to me than life!" was whispered in reply, as Mary clung to him more closely.
Such evidences of love melted the strong man's heart.