The Soldier's Wife — page 190: what you’re looking at

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

THE SOLDIER’S WIFE. 169 easturned to her attic-lodging with a heart hea-| A misgiving smote Lucy’s heart: but not for vier, if possible, than when she had issued an instant would she betray it. So she gave forth. Her father was well off—he could suc-|her husband the money; and away he weat, cour ber if he chose in this period of her pover- | promising to return in about half-an-hour. But ty: but she feared—or rather she knew, how the half-hour passed—and he re-appeared not. useless it would be to write to him, and how It grew into an hour—then another hour went inveterate he was against her. These considera-) by—then another—but still no Lonsdaie, tions naturally and irresistibly forced upon her Lucy’s misgivings were now completely con- mind the thought of the misery that had resulted | firmed. He had taken the money without the from the marriage she had contracted: and yet intention of coming back: it would all go in she coull not wish the past undone so far as| strong drink; and she—the poor wife—and the that marriage was concerned. As for a single| boy might starve at home! She had not ano= scintillation of regret that she had not espoused | ther farthing: she had not a garment which ferald Bedburn, Lucy was too pure-minded to|she could dispense with, to raise money upor eultertain such a feeling. Besides, that the|She looked in the cupboard: there was a loaf of marriage had thus resulted in unhappiness for | bread—and naught besides. There was not herself, could not for an instant be accounted|/even any tea, nor sugar, nor milk. Neither for as a retribution for any disobedience of|had she any coals; and the weather was of a which she was guilty in respect to her father: | bitter chill. With a throbbing brain and an an- under the circumstances which existed at the] guished heart, she sat down and endeavoured time, it was no disobedience at all; and the|to work: but she could not. This last act of union would have been a happy one, had not| her husband struck her as something so heart- her husband been subjected to such cruelty} less—savouring indeed .of such cold-blooded and remorseless persecutions. But Oh! if she|cruelty—that it was well nigh overwhelming. could only make her peace with her father, even | 't was not for the dinner she cared: a piece of though he might not succour her in her poverty, | dry bread would suffice for her: but Lonsdale it would still be balm to her soul. She wrote|had robbed his son of that dinner which Lucy to him; and the letter remained unanswered. | had promised, and of which the poor boy, child- This was another dagger plunged into the heart] like, had been talking all the week. She won- of poor Lucy. dered how her husband could possibly have Christmas Eve came; and she wondered,|had the heart to doit. Vainly, in the natural sadly and mournfully, whether Frederick would | generosity of her soul, did she endeavour to dine with her on the following day. She had | find a palliation for his conduct: but she could saved up a few shillings to purchase the Christ- | not. mas dinner: she had toiled hard and stinted} And thus that Christmas Day was passed, in herself sorely in order to make this little sav-; wretchedness and sorrow for poor Lucy. Her ing; for she thought that if her husband could| husband did not make his appearance. He once again be induced to sit down comfortably | knew there was nothing there, either to eat or with his wife and son at the table, and if that|to drink, that would suit his palate. There was dear boy’s heart should also for this once be|no fire in the grate—the room was like an _ ice- gladdened, it would still be an oasis in that dis-| well—the snow was falling—and Lucy could mal arid desert constituting the world of her|not even take: little Freddy to church or to present experience. It was about four o'clock | walk. All day long she held him on her lap, in the afternoon—and Lucy had waited indoors} wrapped up in a shawl, and pressed to her until now, in expectation that her husband] bosom, to keep’ him warm, while she herself would come, so that she might assure herself] was shivering with the cold. Bread and water whether he intended to dine with them on the| was their only fare: but the bread which Lucy following day. But as he had not yet made his| ate was moistened with her tears. appearance, and it was already dark, she re-| A week passed; and Lonsdale did not ven- solved, with a subdued sigh, to go forth and|ture into his wife’s presence. She dared not make her purchases. She had put on her bon-|seek him at the barracks: for on two or three net and shawl, when Lonsdale’s well known] previous occasions, when she had done so in step was heard ascending the stairs; and he|alarm at his protracted absence, he had been entered the room. He was half tipsy; and his| most violent in his reproaches, and had _ posi- first demand was whether Lucy had any mo-| tively ordered her never to adopt such a course ney. She never told him a fasehoud, and|again. But on this occasion, when the seventh therefore would not on this occasion; but|day came and Frederick did not appear in the fraukly admitted that she had five shillings, | afternoon, Lucy grew so seriously frightened with which she was going to buy the Christmas| that she resolved at any hazard to go and in- dinner—and she besought him to come and/quire for him. But scarcely had she thus made partake of it. up her mind, when he entered the room, and ‘You can’t go out at this hour,” he said, his| instantly began framing an excuse for not hav- manner and tone all of a sudden becoming |ing returned on Christmas Hve. He said that kind and affectionate, notwithstanding his seini- | he had been jostled and robbed in the street, inebriety: ‘it’s quite dark, and there are aj|and that he did not like to come back. Lucy good many bad characters abroad in the street} made no reply; and Frederick seeing that he just now. Tobe sure, 1 meant to come and| was not believed, flew mto a rage, endeavour- dine with you to-morrow; and I hope we shall be comfortable together. Let me go and buy!all on his own side: for his gentle wife bore a ing to pick a quarrel. But, as usual, he had it. the things for you.” ‘everything meekly, and retorted. nothing am ee ae sei “ Conlichbooks