The Soldier's Wife — page 174: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE SOLDIER’S WIFE. endeavoured to render the little home so com- fortable that he might have all the less excuse for keeping away from it. She assumed a cheerfulness which she did not and could not feel, and studied her best to make her humble abode attractive. She increased the hitherto prescribed amount to be laid out for the tea and supper which he took with her—that is to say, when he was there—and also for the Sunday's diuner: she prepared for him little delicacies which she thought would please his palate; and when he took leave of her for the evening, she would tell him with the sweetest smile— but, alas! all forced and artificial—that if he would be sure and come on the morrow, he would fiz.d something nicer than even the re- ast of wuich he had been partaking. Thus ia hersel’, though with the best intentions in the word, was gradually led ito certain little extravagance:: but as she weekly and daily beheld the'r stock of money diminishing, she toiled all 142 more arduously with her needle in order to sv, ply the deficiencies as much as possible. There were times when Frederick Lonsdale contemplated with the bitterest anguish the course that he was pursuing. He saw that his wife understood it all, and that though she ap- peared satisfied w'th the excuses he was con- stantly making to ercroach upon thew funds and to absent himmseli from the lodging, yet that she studicd by her deneanor to show that she put faith in all he sai’. He looked back to other times when he wou'd have hated himself for even causing that excei'e: t woman a single moment’s uneasiness: but now there was scarcely a day that he was ro: planting a dag- ger in her heart. He felt that L's condect was cruel to a degree, although his manner towards his wife and child still continued k‘ud and af- fectionate when he was with them. Sut after all, this was a mere negative kindness: it was only the passive abstention from actual ill-treat- ment, wile in reality the course he was per- suing was one continued series of aggress:ons oa their happiness, comfort, and welfare. On those occasions when his better feelings thus aeserted theit empire and he was enabled to re- flect upon the cruelty of his conduct, he would record in his own soul the most sacred vows and pledges tu reform. Le would even pray to heaven, in anguish and bitterness o: spirit, for strength of mind to keep this resolve: vout temptations would fall in his way—or some tyranny on the pat of his superiors would ag- gravate him; and then he would go to the can- teen again. Sometimes in one of those remorse- ful moods, he would wander out into the open country like a foriorn and desolate being—ask- ing himsclf what he could possibly do to retrieve the moral ground he had lost—erying outin the strong voice of conscience-striken anguish—and again imploring heaven to savo him ere it was too late. But heaven helps not those who help not themselves: and Lonsdale did not help him- self! Thus time passed on; and though he was not yet a drunkard, yet he was a drinxer, On no occasion had he committed such an excess as to become absolutely helpless: he had never 153 got downright intoxicated: he had hitherto been rather a tippler than aconfirmed sot. But these are merely the phases and gradations which the victim of intemperance *s passing through. Few fall all of a sudden—auu least of all a man whose mind is naturally strong and whose princip! s are inherently good, ag Lonsdale’s had hitherto been. But yet, for all this; the descent is rapid enough; and a few months, when the habit of drinking is once im bibed, make fearful inroads both upon strengta of mind and goodness of principle. So was it with our hero. The periods of remorse occur- red at longer intervals; and their duration be- came shorter and shorter. A certain reckless- ness was superseding that yearning struggle which he at first made to regain the lost ground of the past; and unfortunately, in his bitter wrongs and excruciating sorrows, he began 80 find for himself a sufficient justification for tae course he was pursuing. Alas for poor Lucy! When her eyes wers once completely opened to the lamentable truth—when she no longer dared attempt to reason herself to the contrary—she felt that ber happiness was being extinguished by inches. She toiled and toiled with her needle to supply the encroachments made upon the money she had brought from France: but the outgoings far exceeded the incomings. She kept her ayart- ment in the nicest possible order—the little boy was always dressed with neatness, though plainly—she herself presented a corresponding ppearance—she taught him his lessons, to which his father paid now but little attention— nnd she had to devote time to the preparation of those meals by means of which she sought to lure her husband to the humble home. To accomplish all this, engrossed a considerable portion of her time; and she was therefore compelled to sit up later and later by might in order to indemnify herself on the score of ber work. It was a hard task for poor Lucy to as- sume a constant air of cheerfulness in the pres- euce of her husband; and when he was not there, the revulsion of feelings which she ex- perienced was often bitter indeed. She would look back with anguished regret to those periods when they were located at Carlisle—or wlien they dwelt in Finsbury and in Calais—as séa- sons of happiness that had f.»wn, never to re- turn! Often and often was she tempted to fling herself at her husband’s feet, and implore him by the love they felt for each othcr—fer the sake of their dear child—and by every solemn and sacred tie that bound them all to each other, that he would renounce the habits which were so fatally growing upon him. Bvt she feared that even the tenderest remonstrance might be taken for a reproach—the most fervid prayer for an upbraiding: and she trembled— Oh, the poor creature trembled—to do augnt that should alienate Frederick still more from her home! ‘ Frequently during the intervals of his ab- sence—but when he ought to be there—lLucy would find herself dropping the work from her hands and falling into the most mournful rev- erie. ‘he tears would unconsciously steal dn her countenance; aud her bosom would (COMIC OOOKS.€O)