The Soldier's Wife — page 187: what you’re looking at

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106 and a heart aching at the remembrance of the | carnage—was wending his way towards the lit- tle lodging, he noticed that the working men whom he passed looked upou him, some with unrestrained horror and aversion, others with a mournful commiseration. Those who were least acquainted with the imperious tyranny of that discipline which rules the private soldier as with a rod of iron, naturally held these soldiers themselves responsible for the hideous deeds that had been done: but others who were bet- ter instructed upon the subject, knew that the private soldier was naught but a mechanized and automaton-made being, whose position was but too well calculated to excite a mournful pity. But such pity as this was so galling to wonsdale’s mind as the looks of aversion, loath- ing, and abhorrence which he encounte red else- where; and feeling a kind of madness in his brain, he was about to rush into a public house to obtain liquor, when he recollected that he had spent all his money on the previous even- ing at the canteen. He sped on to the loding. With a sort of wildness he burst violently into the room, where Lucy was occupied with her work, and where little Frederick was studying his lessons; and his first demand was, ‘“‘ Have you got any money ?” “Money, my dear Frederick ?” she repeated, meekly and timidly, while her looks showed that she was frightened at his manner. ‘“Yes—money,” he reiterated, with a sort of brutality in his accents. ‘‘Come now, don’t stand staring at me in this manner——” Lucy burst into tears, while she hastened to put forth from her pocket a few shillings upon the table—all the money she could command. Her husband snatched them up, and was rush- Ing away, when she sprang forward, and catch- ing him by the arm, murmured in a voice bro- Ken with convulsing sobs, ‘‘ Has anything hap- pened, dear Frederick? why are you thus? Not one kiss? not one kind word? not even so much as a look at your dear boy ?” ‘““Luey,” answered her husband, abruptly slosing the door which he had half opened, and turning as suddenly round towards her, ‘I feel as if 1 were goingmad! Youknow what hap- pened yesterday—you know that there was murder done under colour of the law outside the town’? And I, Lucy, I—your husband— the father of that boy—was one of the assas- sins! Yes: you may turn pale——Oh! even if you too loathe, abhor, and hate me, it will be but natural! But that hand which you have pressed in tenderness—that hand which your lips have touched—that hand which at times has smoothed down the hair upon the pure brow of that boy—this hand it is which is now staincd with human blood! Oh, my God, Lucy! it is enough to make me curse myself— to make me curse the world—to make me curse— But heavens! what is the matter?” And as he uttered these last words, he sprang forward to catch his wife, whom he suddenly perceived to be falling: but he was not in time to save her—and she dropped heavily upon the floor in a dead swoon, He raised her in his arms—he placed her upon the bed—he hasten- 6d to sprinkle water upon her countenance, THE SOLDIER’S WIFE. which was pale as marble. Care and anit had for a long time past been making it tl ms it now looked like the face of a corpse—t at countenance once so eminently beautiful! } it tle Frederick was crying bitterly; and ip a paroxysm of excruciating remorse for his past conduct, Lonsdale enibraced the child: aad bending over the inanimate form of his wife, he covered her checks also with kisses. While he was still lavishing these caresses upon her, she came back to consciousness: she felt the warmth of her husband’s kisses—a thrill of surprised d- light galvanized her from head to foot. WinAa- ing her arms about his neck, she strained him to her bosom,—and once more—but only for @ few moments—Lucy Lonsdale was happy. No: this happiness lasted but a few moment for the feeling of remorse which had smittea the husband, quickly passed away when he sav that his wife had recovered. It was as if the tenderness of romance melted all on a sudden at the renewal of the commonplace aspect of things. Lucey gently and timidly asked whether he could not remain and spend an hour—only one short hour—with herself and little Fred- erick. But Lonsdale had at the time an insati- ate craving for the artificial stimulant of strong drink; and glibly uttering an excuse, he took his hurried departure, with his wife’s money a his pocket. And, as we have before said, i was all the money she possessed at the indi This was Tuesday: she would have no work done till Saturday—no more money to receive till it was done. The cupboard contained enough bread—and nothing else—for that day’s meals: but on the following day Lucy was com- pelled to take some article of jewelry to the pawnbroker’s, and raise the means for supplying herself and the boy with food. ,Oh! for her- self she cared not: she would have submitted to any privation sooner than have paid that visit to the pawnbroker! But the child could not be suffered to know the pangs of hunger likewise; and it was for him that she did it. CHAPTER XXXVI o STILL DOWNWARD. TIME wore on—weeks and months passed away—and the year’ 1836 was drawing to a close. Frederick Lonsdale grew more invets erate in his dissipated habits—more thoroughly confirmed in his evil courses. He seldom now paid a visit to the lodging, unless it were to obtain money; and as the price of work was falling, and even work itself was not always to be had, poor Luey’s means of supplying her hush: snd’s extravagances grew narrower and narrower. One after the other had the articles of jewelry been pledged: they were now all gone; and the proceeds had been swallowed up by Lonsdale at the canteen. Frequent w the minor punishments to which he was s jected; and every time he thus endured — Eomicbooks.co ‘