her little all, took out a quarter of a dollar, and turning to her
husband, said, as she handed it to him--

"Remember, that you are taking the bread out of your children's
mouths!"

"Not so bad as that, I hope, Jane," said the drunkard, as he
clutched the money eagerly; something like a feeble smile flitting
across his disfigured and distorted countenance.

"Yes, and worse!" was the response, made in a sadder tone than that
in which the wife had at first spoken.

"How worse, Jane?"

"John!" and the wife spoke with a sudden energy, while her
countenance lighted up with a strange gleam. "John, I cannot bear
this much longer! I feel myself sinking every day. And you--you who
pledged yourself--"

Here the voice of the poor woman gave way, and covering her face
with her hands, she bent her head upon her bosom, and sobbed and
wept hysterically.

The drunkard looked at her for a moment, and then turning hurriedly,
passed from the room. For some moments after the door had closed
upon her husband, did Mrs. Jarvis stand, sobbing and weeping. Then
slowly returning to her chair near the window, she resumed her,
work, with an expression of countenance that was sad and hopeless.