The only one who appeared calm was Kate, Henry's oldest sister. She uttered no expression of pain or surprise, but, after hearing what her brother said, looked down upon the floor, and seemed lost in meditation.

"My poor children!" such were the thoughts that pa.s.sed through the mind of Mrs. Ellis. "If I could only screen you from these dreadful consequences! If I only were the sufferer, I could bear the burden uncomplainingly. Ah! will this cup never be full? Is there no hope? How earnestly I have sought to win him back again, Heaven only knows."

From these reflections Mrs. Ellis was aroused by the voice of Kate, who had arisen up and was taking from a nail in the wall her bonnet and an old merino coat.

"Where is the tavern, Henry?" said she.

"What tavern?" answered the boy.

"The tavern where you saw father."

"In Second street."

"Why do you wish to know?" inquired Mrs. Ellis.

"I will go for him. He'll come home for me."

"No--no, Kate. Don't think of such a thing!" said Mrs. Ellis, speaking from the impulse of the moment.

"It won't be of any use," remarked Henry. "Besides, it's very dark out, sister, and the tavern where I saw him is a long distance from here.

Indeed I wouldn't go, Kate. He isn't at all himself."

The young girl was not in the least influenced by this opposition, but, rather, strengthened in her purpose. She knew that the air was damp and chilly, from an approaching easterly storm; and the thought of his being exposed to cold and rain at night, in the streets, touched her heart with a painful interest in her erring, debased, and fallen parent.

"It will rain to-night," said she, looking at her brother.

"I felt a fine mist in the driving wind just as I came near the door,"

replied Henry.

"If father is not himself, he may fall in the street, and perish in the cold."

"I don't think there is any danger of that, sister. He will be home after awhile. At any rate, there is little chance of your finding him, for he won't be likely to remain long at the tavern where I left him."

"If I can't find him, so much the worse," replied the girl, firmly.

"But, unless mother forbids my going, I must seek him and bring him home."

Kate turned her eyes full upon her mother's face, as she said this, and, in an att.i.tude of submission, awaited her reply.

"I think," said Mrs. Ellis, after a long silence, "that little good will come of this; yet, I cannot say no."

"Then I will find him and bring him home," was the animated response of Kate.

"You must not go alone," remarked Henry, taking up the cap he had a few minutes before laid off.

"Wait for supper. It is all ready," said Mrs. Ellis. "Don't go out until you have eaten something."

"No time is to be lost, mother," replied Kate. "And, then, I haven't the least appet.i.te."

"But your brother has been working hard all day, and is, of course, tired and hungry."

"Oh, I forgot," said Kate. "But Henry needn't go with me. If he will only tell me exactly where I can find father, that will be enough. I think I'd better see him alone."

"Food would choke me now." Henry's voice was husky and tremulous.

"Come, sister," he added, after a pause, "if this work is done at all, it must be done quickly."

Without a word more on either part, the brother and sister left the room, and started on their errand.

CHAPTER XXI.

LATE in the afternoon of the day on which occurred the incidents mentioned in the preceding chapter, Mr. Wilkinson, who had entirely recovered from his embarra.s.sed condition, and who was now a sober man in every sense of the word, as well as a thrifty merchant, was standing at one of the counters in his large, well filled store, when a miserable looking creature entered and came back to where he stood.

"Good-day, Mr. Wilkinson," said the new-comer.

Surprise kept the merchant silent for some moments, when the other said--

"You don't know me, I presume."

"Henry Ellis!" exclaimed Wilkinson. "Is it possible you have fallen so low?"

"Just as you see me," was replied.

"You ought to be more of a man than this. You ought to have more strength of character," said Wilkinson, giving utterance to the first thought that came into his mind.

"Oh, yes; it is easy to talk," replied Ellis, with a slight impatience of manner. "But you know my history as well almost as I know it myself.

I was driven to ruin."

"How so?"

"Why do you ask the question?"

"You refer to your wife?"

"Of course I do. She drove me to destruction."

"That is a hard saying, Mr. Ellis."

"Yet true as that the sun shines. And she has had her reward!"

This last sentence was uttered in a tone of self-satisfaction that deeply pained Mr. Wilkinson.

"I saw your wife this morning," he remarked, after a moment's silence.

"You did! Where?"