Ay, Helen is good! Her heart is with you, Mike, wherever you go; and at this very moment she is kneeling by the little beacon, praying that it may guide you safely to her side, and that you may not be tempted to stray into the bar-room on the corner.
But not the next day only, the whole week, Roony was his old, good-natured, hard-working, sober self; and what had marred the joy of Christmas was fast fading from Helen’s memory. But one Saturday evening, as he was trudging homeward with his pocket full of wages, there came over him a sudden craving for spirits; the broken bottle out of which he had taken his maiden drink seemed to rise up before his eyes; the delicious
taste of the whiskey was on his lips afresh. In fact, the craving was so very strong, so wholly unexpected, that it startled him, and his heart beat violently.
“Oh! I never thought I should be seized in this way,” he groaned. “How very strange! I can’t resist; yet I must. O Helen! would to God I had not taken that first drink.” The words were scarcely breathed when the beams of the home-light flashed upon him. ’Twas still a good distance off, and the air was muggy and thick, yet it shone brighter than Mike had ever seen it shine before. For about a minute he watched it yearningly; he even quickened his steps and twice groaned, “O Helen!” Then, muttering a curse upon himself, he turned his eyes away from the light, and at the same time, swerving out of the dear home-path, he hurried on to the liquor-saloon.
“Three cheers for Mike Roony!” was the salutation which greeted him from a dozen voices as he entered. “I knew you’d join us afore long,” said the President of the Black-eye Club, advancing and shaking him warmly by the hand; then, motioning to the others, their empty glasses were refilled and the new-comer’s health toasted. Presently Roony wanted to treat; but “No, no,” they all shouted; “’tis our privilege to treat you this evening.” Whereupon the bottle was passed round again; while poor Mike, flattered beyond measure by this unlooked-for reception, thought to himself: “What a fool I was not to join the club long ago!”
And so on they went carousing, and Helen’s husband growing more and more intoxicated, until at length, when he was barely able to stand, a voice exclaimed: “Now, boys, let’s christen him.” Quick as
lightning a violent blow on the eye followed these words; then down dropped Roony unconscious to the floor.
“Where can he be?” said the anxious wife, seeing that he did not return at the usual hour. “I pray God nothing has happened. The dear fellow came near being killed by a blast last year. O my God! I hope nothing has happened.” After waiting for him awhile, Helen and her young ones took their places at the supper-table; but not a morsel did she eat. A vague fear possessed her. The children spoke, but the mother answered them not; the cricket chirped—she was deaf to its merry song; and every few minutes she would open the door, and look out and listen. But no husband appeared. And now, without him, how everything seemed to change! The rock, the shanty, the pretty rosebush she cherished, even the children whom she loved ten thousand times more than the rose—all appeared different to her eyes; nothing was the same when he who was the corner-stone of home was missing; and Helen realized as never before what a link of adamant bound her heart to his. “Oh! if anything has happened. If he is killed, ’twill kill me too,” she sighed. Then, when little Mike asked, “Where is papa?” she answered, “Coming soon.” And even to speak these words brought her a moment’s peace of mind, and she would try to think of some good cause which might detain him. But the clock went on ticking, and the hour-hand moved further and further toward midnight; still, no husband came. The children were put to bed, and soon were fast asleep; the fire in the stove died out; the cricket became silent; but the wife grew more and more
wakeful, while ever and anon she would go to the window and nervously snuff the candle burning there. Then again she would open the door and listen—listen with all her ears; but she heard only the throbbing of her heart and boisterous voices in the direction of the liquor-saloon.
“Well, I’ll watch and pray till he arrives,” said Helen; then kneeling beside the crib where her children were sleeping, she lifted her thoughts to God. But the many hours she had been awake, the busy day prolonged so far into night, proved at last too much for her; and just as the clock struck one her weary eyes closed and her guardian angel took up the prayer which she left unfinished.