The Soldier's Wife — page 192: what you’re looking at

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

THE SOLDIER’S WIFE. happy mother and the poor boy in the face. She feit the icy hand of Want lying heavy upon Cs her shoulder; it was like the hand of the dead, sending a glacial chill piercing and penctrating to the very marrow ofher bones. Thoughts of suicide would creep into her mind; and though she shuddered with the direst horror, and en- deavored to skake them off, still they would come back again; and there were moments when she feared that her reason was abandon- ing her—that she was going mad, And during this week of harrowing bitterness—a week of excruciating anguish—a week through which she had dragyed herself she scarcely knew how —slie saw nothing of her husband. SBut at length he came back again; and sorrowfully— despairingly—but with no more reproach than was conveyed in her looks and her accents—she told him all she had suffered, and all that little Frederick had suffered likewise. For a moment he appeared shocked—but only for a moment: and then he told her the best thing she could do, would be to go to Coventry and see her fa- ther; for he had heard that Mr. Davis was liv- ing there in good circumstances. She replied, amidst torrents of tears, that she had vainly written to him some time back, and had receiv- ed no answer. “Well” said Lonsdale, in a sullen mood and with sulky accents, ‘I am sure I don’t know what youaretodo. For my part, Il was obliged to take that money—I wanted it—anud of course there is no harm in using one’s wife’s name. Come, what on earth are you whimpering for like that?” ‘‘ Good heavens, Frederick!” exclaimed Lucy, with a sudden access of wildness; “how can I he!p weeping? Did you not know that when you went and received that money, you were taking the very bread out of that poor boy’s mouth ?” “Oh! by Jove, if you are going to reproach me, I sha’n’t stay here ;”—and the brutal fellow, starting up from his seat, placed his hand upon the latch. “For God’s sake, Frederick, do not leave me thus!” implored the agonizing Lucy. ‘Oh! I forgive you for what you have done! Do but consult with me what I am to do t ‘Forgive me indeed !” he said, turning fierce- ly round upon her: ‘that’s a pretty way to talk to your husband. If you do itayain, I will make you remember. it:”—and he clenched his fist to strike her. “Oh, papa!” cried the boy, rushing between them: “do not beat peor mama—pray do not!” “Get out, you little brat, you!”—and Lons- dale gave the cnild a brutal kick: having done which, he quitted the attic. cS My poor boy,” murmured Lucy, snatching little Frederick up in her arms, pressing him to her bosom, and covering him with her kisses and her tears; “I could have endured anything but this! Oh, it is too much! it is too much!” —and then she continued to sob and weep, and moan and lament, as if her heart would break. This shecking scene took place at about two o'clock in the afternoon; and Lonsdale, on ‘eav- ing" his wife’s lodging, walked in a mood o% 1des- perate sullenness towards the barracks. He 171 had called upon Lucy in the hope that she would have managed to get over the difficulty ° wherein he had plunged her, and that he should have found her able to give him some money. The disappointment he-experienced threw him into that humor of brutal sulkiness which he had displayed. The two pounds he had obtain- ed from the warehouse, had melted away at the canteen and other places; for whenever he had moncy, he invariably treated his comrades in a profuse manner until it was gone. He had committed a deep debauch on the previous night: he now felt an earnest longing for a stimulant to cheer up his gs) rits which were suffering a painful reaction. lls mird was in a morbid state: he recked not wkat become of him. He was proceeding through the street in this mood,—wondering where he could obtain cre- dit for liquor, or how he could raise any money to procure some,—when on passing round a corner, he ran against Sergeant-Major Langley. “Now then, you awkward scoundrel!” ex- claimed Langley : ‘why the deuce don’t you see where you are going? But most likely you did it on purpose, you blackguard thief !” ‘‘How could I do it on purpose?” demanded Frederick gruttly; ‘‘since I did not see you till we ran against each other? If you can see through a brick wall, J can’t; and I may just as well say that you ran against me on pur- ose——” ‘“ What the deuce means all this impudence ?” vociferated Langley, his countenance becoming purple with rage. “ But I suppose you are tipsy aS usual] ?” ‘No, Mr. Langiey—I am not,” replied our hero quickly. ‘IL take heaven to witness that I have not had a single drop of beer or spirits all day.” ‘“ Well, it’s something to plume yourself upon, no doubt,” rejoined the Sergeant-Major with a sneer: ‘for you have become the most drunken blackguard in the whole regiment.” ‘It’s precious fine for you to speak in this manner.” retorted Lonsdale, his blood boiling with rage, ‘“ when you know very well that I picked you up one night, in the barrack-yard at Manchester, in a beastly state of intoxication.” ‘‘ Hold your tongue, you insolent scoundrel!” interrupted Langley, with vehemence. ‘“Scoundrel yourself!” cried Frederick pas- sionately: ‘ yes—the most hellish of scoundrels —a scoundrel of the blackest dye—a scoundrel of an infamy that transcends all description this is what you are, Mr. Langley—and IL defy you!” ‘“What’s the matter here ?” demanded Cap- tain Redburn, who came round the corner at the moment. “Is this beggar insulting you, sLangley ?’’*—and he flung a look of the suprem- est contempt upon our hero. ‘“ Beggar!” echoed Lonsdale, now rendered perfectly infuriate: and in the ungovernable madness of his rage he struck Redburn a blow which sent him staggering back several paces. “Ah! he has struck me!” exclaimed Red- burn. ‘ Langley, take him to the guard-house !”’ ‘‘No—nor yet a dozen of vou!” vociferated Lonsdale, who was literally im a state of f ewe e COUMUU! iGbool ol KS EO)