“Well, the children are off my hands at last,” said Mira Moberly. “What
a comfort it is to be able to sit down and think once in a while! Oh,
dear! there is the bell. No wonder some people think heaven is a state
of rest, if they all long for it as I do. A letter from mother! Oh, I am
so glad!” As she reads her letter, we will tell you about her life since
she left her old home.
She had the fate of thousands of others. She had come to a large city a
young, inexperienced bride, very much in love with her husband. The
uncle who had been the cause of their coming, fitted up their home with
every luxury, besides showing her many kindnesses. Jack was proud of her
and through his uncle’s influence they were introduced to a circle of
acquaintances. She was happy and enjoyed being a center of attraction
the first few months. She was often homesick but Jack did all he could
to make her contented.
The first year passed, then the baby took up her attention. The third
year came and two babies claimed her. The fourth year found her a
sad-faced matron with more cares than she knew how to bear. Jack had
changed. He was no longer the loving husband, but was becoming bloated
and reckless with drink, so that even his little children shrank from
him. This was what she had left home, mother and plenty for. This was
the man she had promised to love, honor and obey. Could she love a man
who neglected her children as well as herself? Could she honor this
drunkard and gambler? Could she obey such a specimen of manhood? In what
could she respect him? And yet the memory of other days would come to
her and she would try again and again to change him. He was the father
of her children and she must save him. Thus the years had passed. Then
the uncle died and failed to remember Jack in his will. The firm changed
hands and he lost his position. That was over a year ago, and though
friends had helped him and other positions had been secured, he lost one
after another. No one wanted a man who could not be trusted.
An old acquaintance who had known her family lived in the city. He had
told her to come to him if she was ever in any trouble. She thanked him
and said she would. That was in the second year of her marriage and she
had said in jest, “Of course I will.”
Her third child was four months old now and her piano was gone for the
mortgage. She felt weak and helpless, for now she saw that Jack was a
wreck, incapable of looking after them. She had never earned her own
living, and how were her children to be supported? “I thought I was
doing wonders when I did my own work and took care of them, but what am
I to do now?” she questioned herself. She sat down and thought and
presently she remembered the promise of her old acquaintance. “He told
me to come to him and I will ask him to lend me some money until I am of
age.” She went to his home in the evening, thinking at that time she
would be more likely to find him.
As she looked around at his magnificently furnished home, she thought,
“Of course he will help me, but I do wish I didn’t tremble so.” She
hesitated to speak as she looked more closely at his face. “Surely I
must be mistaken,” she thought as she realized how cold and indifferent
his manner was. Was this the same Mr. Carron she had remembered in her
childhood days, who had told her to come to him? How well she remembered
his very words, his admiring glances, and the same evening, as she
thought, accidentally, she heard him tell an acquaintance how beautiful
she was and what a good family the Vivians were and that he considered
Jack Moberly a lucky fellow to have won her. In her inexperience of what
a large number of men are, who live in affluence in our large cities,
she considered his reference to her as flattery. Now she felt sensitive
about letting any one know of her position and the necessity of talking
about her husband, but he had told her to come.
“Mr. Carron,” she said, “I am in trouble and have come to you for
assistance. I want to borrow some money until I am of age.” Looking at
his hard face, she said, “I am willing to pay you any interest that you
wish. You know I will have a legacy from my father’s estate then.”
“Why, Mrs. Moberly,” he began, “I would like to help you very much, but
I don’t quite see my way. I hear your husband is gambling and drinking
and not taking care of you and I don’t see how you can ever repay it.
Now, if it were not for him, I wouldn’t mind giving you a lift. You must
know that I have many cases of charity coming to me all the time, and I
am sorry to say that they are more urgent than your case can possibly
be. I don’t see how I can help you. Of course, you haven’t told me all
about your troubles, but I know all about these matters. Ladies imagine
they have troubles.” He had gone that far when she realized if she
remained in his presence another moment she would cry aloud. He had been
her only refuge and he had not only refused her, but called her request
charity. Crushed and helpless, she wished him good night and went out
into the darkness. Then she realized the straits they were in. The tears
she had restrained came now, in spite of all she could do, so she walked
on as quickly as she could for fear some one would speak to her. Oh, the
misery of it all as she remembered the little faces that had looked so
appealingly to her when she could only give them sufficient food to keep
them alive and now she cried, “Oh, God! What shall I do? What shall I
do?”
[Illustration]
She had no car fare and it was dark. The shortest way home was across a
lot of vacant property and the fenced-in estate of wealthy men. The
streets were lighted only on the corners and between them was dark, for
it was in the fall of the year. She had two miles to go and fully
one-half was dark. It was the first time in her life that she had been
out on the street alone in the dark and she was afraid. When no houses
were in sight she ran on and on and at last a man met her about half way
in one of the darkest spots. She remembered all the terrible things she
had read in the papers of men assaulting women. Still he came nearer and
nearer and when close enough to ask her a question, it was only about
the locality. She was trembling so much she couldn’t answer him. In her
fear she had forgotten her unsuccessful mission. Now it loomed up before
her with renewed force. She had been refused help! Another dark stretch
of the street was before her. She had walked nearly three miles,
counting the walk there and the distance back, but there was no help for
it, and she began running, crying as she ran, imploring God to help her
and not to let her children starve. “They say there is a God of the
fatherless and the widows, but is there none for the drunkard’s wife and
his children?” she cried in her misery.
The next day she was ill in bed, her baby cried and there was no one to
care for them, all was confusion, and a neighbor called and offered
help. In her gratitude she told her of the state she was in and also how
her old acquaintance had treated her.
“Oh, yes, you might have known that he wouldn’t help you,” she said,
“for he is a hard man.”
“Then why did he tell me to come to him? I never supposed I should need
help when he offered.”
“Oh, he knew the signs of the times better than you did. He possibly
thought you might become like many others at such a time, and then when
you came to him he would know how to get around you.”
“Oh, no, no, Mrs. Carr, he couldn’t have had such a thought. I cannot
believe it.” Then Mrs. Carr said, “Why didn’t he help you?”
“I don’t know, but he could not be so cruel as that.”
“Well, I don’t think he could have been worse than he has been. Now I am
going to tell you what to do, Mrs. Moberly, so you can earn a little
money. Sell your best furniture. Fit up your dining room and kitchen for
yourself and your children and rent the rest.”