The Soldier's Wife — page 191: what you’re looking at

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

170 grily. She however entreated her husband to corrpose himself, and not address her in such harsh terms, as she would not for the world give him any offence. le told her that if she wanted to make it up with him, she must do him a service; and then he revived the oft- repeated demand for the deposit. But Lucy refused. Jrederick gave her a violent blow; this time it was on the face—and it felled her to the floor, where she remained senseless. When she came back to consciousness, she found her little boy clinging to her neck and crying bitterly. She said and d 1 all she possi- ble could to soo he him, though her own heart was well nigh ready to burst. ‘ Papa has taken away the things,” observed little Frederick, when he was somewhat tran- quillized. “What things, my dear child?” inquired Lucy, not comprehending the boy’s meaning. ‘ Your work, mamma,” was the response. “Ab !’—and Lucey started as if a serpent had stung her. She understood it all in a moment ; and a sense of utter ruin—harrowing and hor- rifying—stuck to her soul. In a fearful state of excitement she put on her bonnet and shawl; and leaving little 'reddy in charge of a female lodger, who occupied the adjacent attic, she rushed off to the warehouse. There she re- ceived the confirmation of her worst fears. Her husband had taken back the half-finished work which she had in hand—he had forged her ame to an order for the repaymeut of the ue- posit of two pounds—and he Lad obtained the money. lLucy’s distress was piteous to a de- gree; and she besought that the work might be given back to her. The people of the ware- house had little feeling for the sorrows of those who toiled for them: it was with them a pure business-consideration; they made it a rule of the establishment never to give out work with- out a deposit; and this rule could not be de- parted from. Moreover, Lonsdale had been to. the warehouse on several occasions, and had deported himself in so violent a manner that he had become an object of terror. The clothiers were therefore far from sorry at the occurrence of an incident which, by putting an end to their connexion with Lucy, would guarantee them against her husband’s visits in future. Hall-distracted, the unhappy woman wan- dered back to her miserable home. As she passed through the streets, her brain appeared to reel: it seemed as if frenzy were init. She could not compose herself to deliberate reflec- tion. The last plank which separated her from the waters of destruction, appeared to be gone: the last straw at which she 2ad clutched to gave herself from drowning, was torn from her grasp. And, Oh!, her boy—her beloved child —'er dear little Frederick—what was now to become of him? Great God! what was to be- oome of them both? THE SOLDIER'S W.FE. CHAPTER XXXVIL DEEPER DOWNWARD 8TILL. s- * Every day throughout the ensuing weok— from morning till night—did Lucy wander from» shop to shop, imploring work. Yes: it was not asking—it was imploring. For the love of Heaven, give her work, that she might obtain bread for her boy and herself! If they would but trust her with work, she would return it punctually—she would. execute it well—she cared net how little she was paid, so long as she could earn something. It was but work that she asked for; it was but the bread of in- dustry that she craved: for mercy’s sake give her work! Ah, but could she pay a deposit ? No—she could not: but she was honest—there was not a stain upon her character—she had never done a wrong thing—she would perish sooner, It was all very well and all very fine; but a deposit of money was required—the hon- or of a person could not be taken as a pledge— it was worth nothing, even at a pawnbroker’s. Well, but she was not altogether a stranger at Middleton: Oakleigh, which was at no great distance, was her native place; she was the daughter of Mr. Davis who for so many years had been Sir Archibald Redburn’s land-steward. This too was all very well and all very fine: but it was not a money-deposit. And more- over, how came it that Mr. Davis, who was known to be well off, left his daughter in such a strait? ‘They were very sorry—these people to whom she applied—but they could not assist her; they must beg to decline; and really they were so busy, they could not attend to her any longer | In this manner did poor Lucy experience dis- appointment after disappointment—rebuff after rebuff: in this way was she treated. She was poorly clad; and no one would trust her. Yet it was but work that she entreated, and prayed for, and almost weut down upon her knees to implore. But in this Christian country she could not obtain that work, unless able to guar-. antee her integrity by a money-surety. Oh! if those to whom she addressed herself, had but studied well that beautiful countenance—still beautiful, pale and careworn though it were,— if they had examined those traits to which pal- lor itself imparted a still more delicate and touching interest,—they surely would not have conceived a suspicion injurious to Luecy’s hon- esty ? But they had no time—those people of this busy money-making country—to examine physiognomies: and even if they had, they would still have fallen back upon the stern, cold. worldly-minded calculation that looks were not deposits Thus a week passed in vain and futile wan- derings from warehouse to warehouse—from shop to shop. And always without suecess! Throughout this week Lucy had managed to obtain bread for her child, and an occasional crust for herself; but this was done only by parting with some of her own raiment—that raiment which she could so ill spare in the midst of the deep cold winter! The week's re t bee came due; with the utmost difficulty a paid: but,the direst perszy “Ve s¥s\el 4-8 “Psy yy) a yt tea ee eee (Vea