“Well, love, all is bright once more,” answered Helen, cheerily. He made no response save a deep sigh.
“Why, husband dear, what troubles you?” she asked, her look of joy vanishing in a moment.
“No slave was ever bound by such chains as bind me,” he groaned, dropping his forehead in his hands. “And it all comes from that one fatal drink.”
“Well, pray, dear, pray to God, and I will pray with you.”
“Too late! The craving for liquor which seizes me at times is irresistible; ’tis seizing me now—the demon!”
“O my Saviour!” cried Helen, trembling and turning pale. The words had hardly left her lips when the door opened and a strange face—at least it was new to her—peeped in.
“Time!” spoke the chief of the Black-eye Club in a voice which caused Roony to start to his feet.
“Begone!” cried Helen, advancing boldly toward the intruder.
“Time!” he repeated, now holding up a pistol. But, nothing daunted, she was about to try and close the door on him, when her husband slipped past, and ere she could recover from her amazement they were both beyond the rock and half way to the grog-shop.
That night the poor woman remained in the shanty, watching, and weeping, and praying. But her husband did not come back till sunrise; and then he was so crazy