England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction
'It was just then we made his acquaintance, and, as a priest, he sought
my help and counsel in ministering to what was indeed a diseased mind;
but, poor misguided woman! she would not see me. In her better moments
she would cling to Heriot, and beg him to save her from the demon that
seemed to possess her. She even knelt and asked his forgiveness once;
but no remedy that he could recommend could be effectual in the case of
one who had never been taught to deny herself a moment's gratification.
I shudder to think of the scenes to which she subjected him, of the
daily torture and uncertainty in which he lived: his was the mockery of
a home. Her softer feelings had in time turned to hate; she never spoke
to him at last but to reproach him with being the cause of her misery.'
'Then it was this that induced him to give up his London practice?'
'Yes. It was a strange act of his; but I verily believe the man was
broken-hearted. He had grown to loathe his life, and the spectacle of
her daily degradation made him anxious to shake off friends and old
belongings. I believe, too, she had contracted serious debts, and he was
anxious to take her out of the way of temptation. Heriot was always a
creature of impulse; his chief motive in following us here was to bury
himself socially, though I think our friendship had even then become
necessary to him. At one time he trusted, too, that the change might be
beneficial for her; but he soon found out his mistake.'
'They say that women who have contracted this fatal habit are so seldom
cured,' sighed Mildred.
'God help their husbands!' ejaculated Mr. Lambert. 'I always thought
myself that the poor creature was possessed, for her acts certainly
bordered on frenzy. He found at last that he was fighting against mental
disease, but he refused all advice to place her under restraint. "I am
her husband," he said once to me; "I have taken her for better and
worse. But there will be no better for her, my poor Margaret; she will
not be long with me--there is another disease at work; let her die in
her husband's home."'
'But did she die there? I thought Betha told me she was away from him.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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