A BRUTE.

Observer, Volume 9, Issue 529, 9 February 1889, Page 3

A BRUTE.

One of the most touching stories I ever heard or read of has just, come to my knowledge— a story of a woman's love and trustfulness and of a man's heartlessness and villainy. Such a story as this, while it exalis one's ideas of human nature on the one hand, shakes one's confidence in it rudely on the other. Some time ago a hardworking and most respectable girl had the misfortune to be wooed and won by one of those heartless and brainless animals who seem to exist merely for the gratification of their own sellish ends. This annual called himself a 'gentleman,' and doubtless imagined that he was conferring the greatest favour in his power to bestow wiien he ' tmew himself away on a common dressmaker.' * • # * He was earning a living as clerk in one of our city offices, and the girl who became his wife naturally expected to tie able 10 give up working at her trade after she was married, ana to be able to devote the whole of her time to her household cares and duties. She was an educated girl, pretty and refined, and superior to girls of her class. She owned a sewing-machine and a piano (being passionately fond of music), both paid for out or her osvn hard earnings, and she aloo had a sum of £'iO in the Savings iSauk standing in her name, and which she was reserving as a eggFor some time after the marriage things went pretty smoothly, 'i hen came a turn of bad luck — the husband lost his cuiietand could not hear of another. His wile, cut to the heart to see him so despondent, like the true girl tshe is, said : ' Never mind; if you can't get work I can. I had to work for my own living before i knew you and I will work for it again — will work for us both, until you can get something.' Tne man raised '

no objection, and to work went the brave little wife. The piano was shut up, and the sewing machine clicked away again as busiJy as ever. .* # * The money came in so readily that the husband, naturally indolent, began to ask himself why he should work while his wife could make enough for both? And so he gave up trying to get employment, and simply loafed. * * * Meantime the anxiety and the hard work began to tell on his wife, and the doctor warned her that she was over-exexting herself. The husband said nothing. He didn't see why he should interfere. She would get over it all right. Besides, why should he work ? He didn't see it. w * # And, perhaps the consciousness of this man's selfishness made the poor wife's work all the harder, although she never complained. * « # The weeks went on and the click of the sewing machine was heard less and less frequently— she was too ill to work much. Still her husband made no effort to relieve her or to earn a penny. Then the poor girl fell seriously ill, and the husband told her she had better go to the hospital. It was time. She was in a rapid consumption. When he learned that there was small chance of her ever leaving her sick bed, what did he do? Went day after day to sit beside the girl who had sacrificed her hie to hi 3 laziness ? Not at all. He sold the piano and the sewing machine without saying a word about it to his wife, and, telling her that he ' must have a pound or two,' got her to consent to his drawing what remained of her little l nest egg ' out of the Havings Bank, and thus provided with ready cash the rascal went off to Melbourne. • * * And the poor little wife is lying at the Hospital— dyixjg. She is reduced to mere skin and bone. She knows her husband is in Melbourne, but she has never lost confidence in him, and, woman-like, is always ready to excuse him. 'He wont away to look for work,' she will tell them. 'No one must say a word against him. But he will come back when he knows how ill she is. Did they write and teil him ? Oh, it would pain him, of course, but then she was so very ill, and it was necessary he should be told. But now he knew, and he would come by the very next steamer,' and her face lights up with joy at the thought. * «■ # Touched by the poor girl's longing to see this worthless scamp again, some kind fiiendsent a cable to him last week : ' Your wife is dying, and is most anxious to see you.' Back came the reply: ' Let her die there, and I will die here, and don't bother me again.' * * # They never told the poor thing ; that would have been to hasten the end. Thdy lead her to believe that he is coming, and every time a steamer arrives from Melbourne it is pitiful to see her, she gets so excited, so eager. iShe will raise herself (with infinite difficulty) in bed, and ask when lie will be there ? They will not keep him when he comes, will they ? (She must see him directly he comes, because she has not much. longer to live. Oh yes, she knows— bu she would like to see him just once more. * * # And then when she realises that be has not come she dnks back on her pillow, exhausted with excitement — to wait for the next steamer. Poor soul ! Some people may think this girl's husband is a better man than Thomas Hall, the wife poisoner. I cannot see much difference between them myself. Hall's crime brought him within the pale of the law, whereas this rascal is, In/all;/ speaking, guiltless. That is all.