Wakefield , himself , be it considered , has no suspicion of what is before him . He holds out his hand ; she gives her own and meets his parting kiss in the matter-of-course way of a ten years ' matrimony , and forth goes the middle-aged Mr. Wakefield , almost resolved to perplex his good lady by a whole week 's absence . After the door has closed behind him , she perceives it thrust partly open and a vision of her husband 's face through the aperture , smiling on her and gone in a moment . For the time this little incident is dismissed without a thought , but long afterward , when she has been more years a widow than a wife , that smile recurs and flickers across all her reminiscences of Wakefield 's visage . In her many musings she surrounds the original smile with a multitude of fantasies which make it strange and awful ; as , for instance , if she imagines him in a coffin , that parting look is frozen on his pale features ; or if she dreams of him in heaven , still his blessed spirit wears a quiet and crafty smile . Yet for its sake , when all others have given him up for dead , she sometimes doubts whether she is a widow . But our business is with the husband . We must hurry after him along the street ere he lose his individuality and melt into the great mass of London life . It would be vain searching for him there . Let us follow close at his heels , therefore , until , after several superfluous turns and doublings , we find him comfortably established by the fireside of a small apartment previously bespoken . He is in the next street to his own and at his journey 's end . He can scarcely trust his good-fortune in having got thither unperceived , recollecting that at one time he was delayed by the throng in the very focus of a lighted lantern , and again there were footsteps that seemed to tread behind his own , distinct from the multitudinous tramp around him , and anon he heard a voice shouting afar and fancied that it called his name . Doubtless a dozen busybodies had been watching him and told his wife the whole affair . Poor Wakefield ! little knowest thou thine own insignificance in this great world . No mortal eye but mine has traced thee . Go quietly to thy bed , foolish man , and on the morrow , if thou wilt be wise , get thee home to good Mrs. Wakefield and tell her the truth . Remove not thyself even for a little week from thy place in her chaste bosom . Were she for a single moment to deem thee dead or lost or lastingly divided from her , thou wouldst be woefully conscious of a change in thy true wife for ever after . It is perilous to make a chasm in human affections -- not that they gape so long and wide , but so quickly close again .
Almost repenting XXXXX his frolic , or whatever it may be termed , Wakefield lies down betimes , and , starting from his first nap , spreads forth his arms into the wide and solitary waste of the unaccustomed bed , `` No , '' thinks he , gathering the bedclothes about him ; `` I will not sleep alone another night . ''
After For In along at by from if of without