UTTERLY BROKEN--BLASTED HOPES.
Ashton's constitution was so severely shaken by the treatment he
had received, and from the effects of his debauch, that the
physician Mr. Reid called in considered his condition really
critical. He said his nervous system had received such a shock
that he must have complete rest for a week or two, and then he
might possibly be so far recruited as to start for his home; but
he doubted if ever he would so recover as to be the same man he
was before.
Eddie wrote home to his mother, telling her that "his father had
been taken ill, and therefore they would not be able to start for
home for a few days; but," he added, "he hoped their return would
not long be delayed."
He was almost certain his mother would divine the cause, and that
her grief would be inexpressible. But as he did not know what the
issue might be, for his father was certainly very ill, he felt if
he did not partially reveal the truth to her, and anything serious
did happen, he never would forgive himself.
The reader will remember that Eddie's letter was composed under
somewhat similar circumstances to those under which his father had
written his hurried note just after his arrival in Canada, and if
he recollects what the result was at that time he will be able, at
least partially, to understand what the effect was in the present
instance.
When Allie returned from the post-office with the letter, Mrs.
Ashton found herself strangely excited, even before she had broken
the seal. She held it with nervous hand, and ere she had read the
first page sank pale and trembling into her chair, and gasped out,
rather than spoke: "Oh, Allie, my worst fears are more than
realized! Oh! what will become of us all?"
Allie and Mamie were immediately by their mother's side, the face
of the former manifesting by its alarmed and saddened expression
that she divined, at least to some extent, what had happened.
While the face of innocent little Mamie wore a puzzled, troubled
look; and though she could not understand what had happened to
grieve her mother, tears glistened in her eyes in sympathy with
her grief.
"What has happened to papa?" said Allie. "Is it anything very
serious?" and she looked anxiously up in her mother's face.
The question was purely mechanical; she felt sure her father had
again fallen, and she also knew if her mother thought so she would
not give expression to her fears.
"Eddie writes he is ill," said her mother; "but he says he has
hopes he will soon recover, and that their return will not long be
delayed."
Allie sat down in her mother's lap, and, as she entwined her arms
round her neck and kissed her, she said, "Mamma, you must not give
way too much to trouble and sorrow, for God knows what is best,
and He will take care of papa and of us all."
Little Mamie, who had been an attentive listener, now endeavored
to console her mother.
"Mamma," she said, "you read me from the Bible the other day, that
Dod cared for the dood man, and sent the raven to feed him. And
you taid He would send His angel to care for me if I was a dood
dirl. Will not Dod care for papa and Eddie?"
Mrs. Ashton returned Allie's caresses; and catching little Mamie
in her arms, and kissing the tears from her face, she said,
"Mamma's daughters are a great comfort to her. God will take care
of us all, my darling. He will send His angel down to care for
papa and Eddie, and to console us who are troubled and sorrowing
because of them. He will care for us all!"
In a few days she received a letter from Eddie stating that,
though his father was still weak, the doctor thought he was so far
convalescent as to be able to start upon his journey, and
therefore they might expect them in a short time; and he mentioned
the day when he thought they would reach Bayton.
Four days after they received the letter, Eddie and his father
arrived. But what was the grief and anguish of Mrs. Ashton, and
the sorrow of Mr. Gurney, who had accompanied her to the station,
to discover that even now, when they had come with hearts full of
sympathy to administer consolation to him in his hour of sickness
and suffering, he had been so far forgetful of what was due to
himself and to his friends, also of the anguish with which he would
wring the heart of his wife, as to be in a state of semi-intoxication.
As they looked at him they were both terribly shocked at the
change which a few days had wrought in him. He did not appear like
the same person as the one who left them two short weeks before.
He was, in fact, only the dilapidated wreck of his former self.
His manhood, his self-respect, his glory had departed.
His wife welcomed both him and Eddie with a kiss; but Mr. Gurney,
who was shocked beyond measure, coldly turned away--he could not
trust himself to speak, for, if he had, burning as he was with
indignation and a sense of violated trust, he would have given
utterance to words that would have caused him future regret.
Mrs. Ashton had Eddie call a cab, and had her husband driven home,
and by the time he reached there he seemed to become so
intoxicated as to be almost helpless, having to be carried from
the cab into the house; and what added to the shame and anguish of
Mrs. Ashton was that there were a great many of the neighbors who
had gathered to welcome him who, of course, took in the situation,
though they were too well bred to give expression to their
astonishment. It caused her exquisite pain to think her husband
had again been degraded in the sight of the world, and that she
and her children shared with him that degradation.
Richard Ashton, from that time, rapidly degenerated. He seemed to
be sapped of both physical and moral strength. His friends rallied
round and endeavored to induce him to reform. Mr. and Mrs. Gurney
used every art they could command to restore him, but though he
would promise to listen to their injunction, his promises were
never put in practice. He really meant to be as good as his word,
but he lacked the moral stamina, and the consequence was he sank
to a lower level every day. It at last became evident he wished to
avoid a meeting, and they therefore felt their endeavors in his
behalf were becoming distasteful to him. So with great sorrow of
heart, for they had become sincerely attached to him, they had,
for the time being, to desist from their benevolent attempts and
leave him to his fate.
And just then, to make matters still worse, Stanley Ginsling
appeared upon the scene. Like the foul buzzard, he seemed to have
scented his quarry from afar. And to add to the intense pain of
Mrs. Ashton and her children, they were again boon companions.
The strain was finally too great for poor Ruth. Like thousands of
other poor, heart-broken wives and mothers, she used every
endeavor to keep up her spirits and try and maintain her strength;
but her sensitive mind was daily tortured with the most exquisite
pain.
Finally her strength gave way, and she was completely prostrated,
all the more completely because of the unequal struggle she had
been maintaining for the last few months.
"A complete collapse of the system," said the doctor. "She must
have good nursing and rest; for without she has rest of mind and
body I cannot possibly bring her through."
The doctor had a private interview with Ashton and told him, in
language we will not repeat, for it was more energetic than
select, that it was a shame for a man with his intelligence and
refinement to so degrade himself, and then he added: "You are
killing your wife, and if you do not desist from drinking it is
very little use for me to come."
But his appetite seemed to have so gained the ascendancy that he
daily came home in a state of intoxication. He seemed to have lost
every vestige of his manhood's strength, and was such a vile slave
to his appetite as not to be able to restrain himself even to save
his wife.