The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1896-08-08

Ill., Il0 uO6S uOb CNCu OuAO III VIC
childrenw had been their mothers
saddest cry, when she had broken
down in the struggle. The two wom-
en- were old fashioned in their bring
ing trained in bygone tenets of
strict, unquestioning righteousness;
it had never come within the view of
their minds that divorce could be
right. The wife had never mentioned
such possibility; the sister had
never suggested it. Yet now, another
possibility, wider, deeper in separa-
ton than any earthly one, had come;
and do what she might, Mary could
not Danish the thought of what infin
lite relief might be in it's event.
Would he die? nay, the fear was not
there; but rather would he live?
The sick man stirred uneasily; his
nurse glanced at her watch. Ten min
utes yet before the medicine should
be given. Every minute seemed to
lag and hang upon her like a weight;
and the night was but just begun.
When the drug was measured and
given, the patient murmured fret
fully. He did not recognize her;
but he rebelled against control, as he
always had and always would, she
thought, sadly. How his reckless
contempt of guidance had dissipated
his fortune and theirs, only these
patient women knew. Even now
they were straitened. 1t had taken
much of her own small income to
send her sister away; he had been
contemptuous of the idea of cure.
Helen was always complaining, he
said; let her stay st home with the
children and keep quiet, and she was
as we'll off there as anywhere. 1t
was hard thing for man to be
burdened with a sickly, helpless
wife; only healthy women should
marry-as II Helen had not been
blooming, sparkling girl fifteen years
ago, when she gave herself and her
little all into his careless keeping.
Of his own property, no one knew
how much was left; it was doubtful
if he himself did. Gambling and
drink were melting it away quickly
and surely. II he lived, few more
years would see them ruined, except
for the small property which Mary
held in her own right, and for whose
control her brother-in-law was al
ready scheming and quarreling.
If he livedl The mockery of it
all! Here she was, straining every
nerve, keeping vigil night and day,
aching with fatigue, weak from loss
of sleep, fighting Death hour after
hour for life not only worthless,
but hurtful. Better, far better for
him to be dead than alive! Better
for Helen to be free from such hate
full perversion of the marriage bondl
Better for the children to remember
their father as a vague childish
memory, than to grow up recognizing
what he was, and being warped by
his evil influence. What folly to be
at hand grips with Death for such
lifel Why not cease the tense, ex-
hausting struggle! 1t was easy
enough to call up the servant to take
her place for half the night, while she
took the rest which every nerve in her
body called out for; easy, after all,
to fling off the responsibility which
was not really hers. Would this man
have so much as nursed his wife for
an hour? Nay, when her life had
lowered in the balance, had he not
gone off carelessly to his own COM
panions and his own pleasures, and
cared little for the outcome? Was
not this very illness of his the result
of broken laws and reckless living?
Were those who lived rightly bound
to the service of evil that had over
reached itself thus? Here was one
who set everything about him wrong,
and would always do so. And were
the sufferers to strive to fasten the
burden upon their own shoulders
again7 She knew that her brother
in-law, when he recovered, would
rail at her nursing, and find fault
that he had not been better cared
for; that every delicacy would be de-
manded and every sacrifice expected,
and yet despised. Was there any
duty in such farce?
Did it make any difference? Sup
pose she struggled through this vigil,
and he died in spite of it9 What
difference would the few hours of rest
make then? What though the igno-
rant servant did make some mistake
or even fall asleep upon her post7
When Death is advancing resistlessly,
such trifes make no change in his
steady steps. And if, in the subtle
balance of vitality and disease, the
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