Richard opened his lips to utter a sharp retort, but, being a man of peace, thought better of it; and, rising from his seat, took down his hat from its peg, remarking that there was one woman at least who he knew would be very glad to dance attendance upon him, and as he thought he had rather neglected her of late, he would go and spend the evening with her. The moment he had gone, Jane rushed into the street, calling: "Come back, Richard, do come back!" but Richard had gone too far to hear, or did not choose to heed her cry. "He's never left me before," she cried, as she returned to her desolate room; and conscience, with many a sting, told her that it was all her own doing. Richard rapidly made his way to his mother's cottage; but when he reached it, all was darkness, and there was no answer to his repeated knocks. "Out nursing again, I suppose," he muttered, and not knowing whither to turn his steps for the evening, for he was determined not to return home till late, he stood hesitating. "Well, Dick, my boy, what brings you away from your home and your wife to-night? It's a strange thing to clap eyes on you these days," said a voice at his side; and turning, he saw a man with whom he had formerly worked. "You're right; I don't often turn out of nights; but I wanted to see my mother, and I find she's out." "The very ticket! your wife won't be expecting you back just yet; and we want a sociable, sensible fellow like you at our workmen's club. You've promised me many a time to come and see us; now's your chance!" said the man, clapping him on the shoulder. "I don't care if I do look in," said Richard after a moment's deliberation; "but I mustn't be late." "Come along, then," answered the man, well pleased with the chance of introducing a manly fellow like Richard to his companions in the neighbouring tavern, where the meetings of the club were nightly held. Suffice it to say, that late that evening Richard was helped to the door of his home by some of its members, with the understanding that he was to be enrolled among their number on the following evening. It would take too long to picture Jane's distress when she met him after her long waiting and remorse. Her husband in such a condition, and none to blame but herself! She did not sleep that night, and in those dark hours she determined that the past should be retrieved. She watched him anxiously the next morning, but he never spoke, except to answer her questions in monosyllables. Long before his time for returning from work had arrived, the kitchen was spotlessly clean, the kettle singing on the shining grate, and Jane herself arrayed in a clean gown and new ribbon. "Surely, he'll want to stay at home to-night, when he sees how pleasant everything looks again," said she to herself. When he came in, he took no apparent heed of his surroundings, but drank his tea in moody silence. When he had finished, he rose and took his hat, but Jane started up, crying: