"You feel better for that promise already; I know you do."

He looks up to her, and smiles faintly. He does feel better, but
is hardly willing to acknowledge it.

Soon after Mary is sleeping. It does not escape the observation of
Mrs. Morgan that her husband grows restless; for he gets up
suddenly, every now and then, and walks quickly across the room,
as if in search of something. Then sits down, listlessly--sighs--
stretches himself, and says, "Oh dear!" What shall she do for him?
How is the want of his accustomed evening stimulus to be met? She
thinks, and questions, and grieves inwardly. Poor Joe Morgan! His
wife understands his case, and pities him from her heart. But what
can she do? Go out and get him something to drink? "Oh, no! no!
no! never!" She answered the thought audibly almost, in the
excitement of her feelings. An hour has passed--Joe's restlessness
has increased instead of diminishing. What is to be done? Now Mrs.
Morgan has left the room. She has resolved upon something, for the
case must be met. Ah! here she comes, after an absence of five
minutes, bearing in her hand a cup of strong coffee.

"It was kind and thoughtful in you, Fanny," says Morgan, as with a
gratified look he takes the cup. But his hand trembles, and he
spills a portion of the contents as ho tries to raise it to his
lips. How dreadfully his nerves are shattered! Unnatural
stimulants have been applied so long, that all true vitality seems
lost. And now the hand of his wife is holding the cup to his lips,
and he drinks eagerly.

"This is dreadful--dreadful! Where will it end? What is to be