FullReads

The sound of his voice resounded through the building, and his drunken companions, hearing it, made the building echo with their boisterous laughter.

He ran through the entries gazing wildly around, and loudly calling for his wife.

The servants, hearing the tumult, hastened to the spot; but neither they nor Mrs. Venet could induce him to become quiet.

The latter, finding she could have no influence upon him, repaired to the room in which she left Mrs. Dayton, and found her senseless upon the floor, and to all appearances dead. She had heard his wild cries, and what she had so much feared she then knew to be true.

Mrs. Venet rang for the servants, and ordered some restoratives. These were soon obtained, and by their free use she had nearly recovered, when her husband rushed into the room.

Upon seeing his wife, the raging lion became as docile as a lamb. A sudden change came over him; he seemed to realize the truth, and it sent an arrow to his soul.

Again the injured wife fainted, and again the restoratives were faithfully applied; but it was evident that if Mr. Dayton remained in her presence it would be difficult to restore her, and the man who before would not be approached was led quietly away. In a short time Mrs. Dayton became sensible, and her first words were to inquire after Edward. Being told, she was induced to lie down, and, if possible, enjoy a little sleep; but sleep she could not. Her mind became almost delirious, and fears were entertained by her attendants that she would lose her reason.

The effects of Edward’s carousal were entirely dissipated by the sudden realization of the truth.

To Mrs. Dayton this was an hour of the deepest sorrow. She looked back upon the past, and saw happiness; in the future nothing but misery seemed to await her. Yet a change came over her; she thanked God for his past mercies, and wisely trusted him for their continuance. She implored pardon for past ingratitude, and prayed that she might be more grateful in future, and that, having tasted of the cup of sorrow, she might not drink the bitter draught.

CHAPTER VII.

The next morning Edward repented of his crime, and in his inmost soul felt it to be such,–a crime of deepest dye.

Emily wept as she bent over him.

“Cease thy tears,” said he, “and forgive; it is but that word, spoken by thee, that can send peace to my soul. Yet what peace can I expect? I have wronged thee!”-and the wretched man wept like a child.

New thoughts continually sprang into existence,–the days of his youth, the bliss of home, and his present situation. He felt disgraced;–how should he redeem his character?

“O, that the grave would hide me,” continued Edward, “and that in death I might forget this crime! But no! I cannot forget it; it will cling to me through life, and the future–“

He would have said more, but the strong emotions of his soul choked his utterance.

He arose and paced the room in agony of feeling which pen cannot describe. Suddenly halting, he gazed steadfastly upon the face of his wife. It was deadly pale, and a tear dimmed the usual lustre of her eye.

“Comfort thyself,” said he; “no further evil shall come upon thee. It shall never be said you are a drunkard’s wife,–no, no, no, never!”

“Let us, then, forget the past,” said Mrs. Dayton.

“What! forget those days when I had not tasted? O, misery indeed, if I cannot retain their remembrance!” said Edward.

“Not so, Edward; we would remember those, but forget the evil that has befallen us,–all will be well.”

“Do you-can you forgive?”

“God will forgive; and shall not I?”

“Then let this be a pledge of the future;” and, taking her hand in his, he said; “I resolve to walk in the path of right, and never more to wander, God being my witness and my strength.”