The Storyteller.

White Ribbon, Volume 17, Issue 197, 17 November 1911, Page 13

The Storyteller.

♦ WAS IT A WOMAN S QUESTION. BY I’. IMS HE t f ('out in net! J, Steadman strode out of the nursery into his wife’s boudoir, and, as Ik* entered the door, a si* kening sight met him, for his wife lev oil the floor helplessly drunk. He grip|**d her hy the arm, and shook her. It •eeined for a moment, that because of her cruelty to their child, all love for her had died out of his heart. The woman turned her eves U|mui him, and her head rolh*d in a drunken imhecilitv, while her drivelling lips tried to frame some maudlin speech. Steadman stood petrified by the sight. Heavens, that was his wife and the mother of his child! “Brandy, brandy,” she hiccoughed. “(Jive me brandy, and she stretched out her hand vainly to reach the decanter upon the table. In a moment her husband had snatched it up, and in the impulse of his fierce anger had dashed it upon the floor. The crash of the glass seemed to awaken the fury of the woman, and she staggered round the table to where her husband stood, with a cry of rage that sounded more like the snarl of a wild beast thin the language of human being In a moment, to protect himself from her \ iolence, he had encircled her in his strong arms, while she writhed, like nothing so much as the frenzied demon-possessed creatures of old; he carried ner to a ©ouch, and held her down by main force, until her frantic struggles ceased from sheer exhaustion. He stood over her panting form, her eyes glaring at him in wild fury, as she uttered maledictions that died away in

idiotic ravings. He watched her until she fell asleep, if the unconsciousness of .1 drink sodden brain ran he called by a name so holy as sleep. He sat by her, frozen himself almost into unconsciousness by what he had witnessed and with the numb sense of despair at his heart.

He had an indefinable consci msness of tender memories of love, he pictured to himself the radiant and beautiful woman of whom he had been so proud, and who had been so proud licrsctf of his rising fame. It had all gone for ever, and this was all that was left to him, a drunken wife and mother. He felt as if his brain would reel. His sorrow vva- greater than he could bear. I lien cons donee whispered its monition in his own heart. He himself bad defended the curse that had ruined the woman he loved. He had been a devil’s advocate, pleading for it, and selling his intellect and eloquence in its defence. He had poured contempt on those who had sought at great sacrifice to stem the torrent of evil, but now it had rushed upon him, overwhelming him. The ruin it wrought when it was remote, when it destroyed many a humbler woman than his wife, was unrealised bv him. But the stern nemesis had knocked at his own stately doors, and forced her way in. The curse was another thing now. It was before an exaggerated figment of the brain of fiery fanatics, it was now a demon that had gripped the dearest of his soul hv the throat, and there she lay in its power. It would blast his own life and that of his child. fn very truth the chickens had come home to roost. Next morning his wife woke to her shame. Gradually the tragedy of the previous night came back to her muddled brain. The shame of her womanhood woke in her. Steadman sat gloomily at the breakfast, table. Food was out of the question, it seemed as if every morsel would choke him. He looked up, and a hand was laid gently on his shoulder, and a pair of appealing eyes, with a look of unutterable distress met his gaze. “Perce, dear,” his wilt* pleaded, “forgive me.” It was all she had power to utter, she knelt at his feet, her face buried in her hands, and an uncontrollable tit of weeping shaking her agonised body. He caught her in his arms, and covered her tear-stained face with kisses. “Forgive you, yes, my darling, a thorn,and times over. Your weakness has betrayed you, and she lay in his arms until her sonbing liad spent itself. “I am ashamed, Perce,’ she whispered. “And the child! she faltered, and a world of shame was in her face. All the mother had risen in her heart in indignation at her weakness of the day before. The mark her fury had caused her to make on the body of her child, had, she felt, left a more indelible mark on the mind of her daughter ; she would carrv the memory of nor mother’s shame to lier dying day. “Perce,” she pleaded, with childish simplicity, “believe me, I will be good, 1 will never touch one drop again.” Never was woman more sincere. “It shall never, never occur again,” she protested. “Have I lost your love for ever?” she asked eagerly. “No darling,” he responded, ‘mine is not a love like that.”

It seemed to Steadman that his wife had completely overcome her weakness. She inix«*d in society, she was a woman calculated to shine in society. Steadman was glad for her to do so, as it seemed to take her out of herself.

Steadman’s wealth was greatly augmented about this time, for Sir Silas, lu> wife’s father, died, leaving his only child his considerable fortune.

Then his own practice increased. His briefs were marked with almost fabulous fees. People discussed tin* amount he must be receiving, it was declared that it ran yearly into many thousands. His star was also in the ascendant with his political party. But amid all these successes, the prosperous man began to notice certain unfavourable symptoms in connection with his wife, lie himself had not banished the drink from his house; at social functions, lie permitted it to he there to tempt his wife, as only this most subtle of all the evils can tempt. She was restless, and seemed like a person who is fearful of the discovery of some great crime he luif committed. She complained of sleeplessness, and once or twice Steadman fancied he detetced the faint odour of some drug hanging about her boudoir.

lie encouraged her to visit the shops, to get into life as much as possible, and lu* indulged her fancy in this direction. She spent large stuns in the indulgence <>i In i uitisti< tustes, and her husband was glad for her to divert her thoughts from her possible weakness. Steadman was busily occupied with Ids parliamentary duties. He was expiated to deliver a speech ill the House in ticfence of tile Trade, for there was a great debate pending in connection with tlx drink interest. His time had been fully occupied, and he had seen hut little of his home. The Trade looki I to their champion to do his best for them, and he did his best, he rose to the occasion the Trade said. But how much lie sank in Ins own esteem in so rising, the Trade little knew . As he sat upon the hem Iks that niglit somehow a mysterious presence seemed to haunt him, his wife’s weakness obsessed him. It was with something of relief that he escaped from the wordv arena that night.

He went home; the House had risen fairly early, but he felt more miserable than ever he rememheied to have jjylt. The fact is, it was his public* life Fliat was clashing against his private sorrow. It was the consciousness that he was defending the thing that was the ruin of his own domestic happiness. And he hadn’t the moral courage to speak out his true thoughts , he was condemned as a paltering coward at the bar of his own conscience. When lu* entered the hall of his house, to his great astonishment, be encountered a policeman. He was in conversation with one of the servants. “What is it, my man?” asked Steadman. “I have come to inform von, sir, of the arrest of your wife." explained the officer. “Arrest of my wife?” exclaimed the M l*, in amazement. “Yes, sir, she has been irrested for theft.”

The gentleman almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the idea. “For theft?” lie repeat'*!.

“No, sir, for tin* theft of some fancy articles from tin* Imperial Stores; they were found upon her when she was shopping there, and she has been given in charge,” continued the officer in explanation.

“But siireU, they understand that my wit*- cannot he responsible for such a mad action, for what reason can there he for her to steal ?”

I he policeman looked round the siiniptuomb furnished hall, and lie admitted that it didn’t look as it she had any nt*ed to steal what was, after all, to her, only a few paltry articles. “But you see, sir," lu* said, “the Imperial lies suffered a in »;I deal in this way just I ndy, and, they have caught \our wife, I expectthey’ll make her suffer for all the others. And tin* constable was correct, the compmy would hear ot no compromise, and they insisted that all were equal before the law ; besides the thing had gone too tar, and the time was too short to prevent it coming into the court tlu* next day. Accordingly it came into court, with all the degrading punishment that exposure lutin ' s in such a case.

The magistrate was hill of sympathy, he >aw the true inwardness of the tragedy. lie listened to the doctor's evidence that it was a case of kleptomania with evident approval of tin* medical mail’s view, for a woman of such wealth and social position to steal a few paltry articles, lie admitted there was no reason, and so he handed her over to the care ot her friends with the customary understanding that slu- should come up for sentence if called upon. But the damage was done. The domestic tragedy had been dragged on to the public stage. Steadman felt as if he were a broken mail. Social disgrace appeared to him almost as tlie mark of Cain. It was all too evident, moreover, that his wife’s mind was unhinged, and there was nothing for it hut that she should be taken away from her home, and he put under restraint

So she parsed from liis home and his life. Her mental condition divorced her from him as his wife. The years dragged miserably on, and bis house was left unto hi in desolate. The incipient insanity that had evidently afflicted her had been developed by her indulgence. If she could have avoided that, there was the possibility, as in many another case*, that the hereditary taint from which it appeared that she suffered would have lain dormant. She remained tin* same in physical strength, hut her mind was gone, and so the doctors said she might continue for years. It was the worst calamity that could have overtaken a man of the temperament of Steadman. The years went on, and people almost forgot that the statesman liad over had a wife. He was still brilliant in spite of his sorrow; he could scarcely help being that, hut it was the brilliancy ot the iceberg; his heart was frozen, the woman he had loved was worse than dead to him. He realiswl when it was too late that the drink question was a woman’s question, and lay at the bottom of nU true social and domestic nippiness. THE END.