The Dark Hour

A womaiii still n the beauty of youtli, sat alone in the huinbleapartiuent. Alom - and yet DOt alone ; for aíthough Hiere were none with whom she could exchange a thought, the wieker eradle ai her foot sheltored a Iittle being which raade Bíary Irwine f'eel that, whateverthe world might think, she was not alone. Nor was ene couipanionless - what mother is? To the stranger and the indifferent, the inlaiit may teeui, if not a cipher, a trouble and a' wearisome charge. Hut she whose owd blood rlows in ils veins, never ibrgets and never wearies. We have said Mary was still in the bloom oi' youlh ; but the bloom was sadly faded. Care, suflering and want had blanched the rose on her cheeks. A few days bef'ore you inight have discerned anxiety there, but uow all that had pased. The expression of her face was thonghtful, but still it spake rest. She had drank of the up ot' bittemess to its very dregs ; but He who hears the sorrowful sighing of the wretched, had comi'orted her. The crisis had passed, and she feit that natural cotnpoaure which steals on the soul when all is done, and all is suffered- the rest which Heaven rewards the patiënt and the dutiful. Her story was not a reniarkable one, if by reniarkable we mean to say unusual. The appearance of the house indioated soniethiag of it ; for we imagine that there is always a significance in the aspect of a d welling which one of its inmates had just lelt, to go to the "narrow house." Mary's husband had been consigned to the grave. The neighbors and friends who had tansted in tlio luelauuliuly busilc urine lanc ofBuuji, had returned to their bornes, and Mary -at with her babe in the silent room. The husband whom she had buried out of her sight was her choice- her wilful choice, made in spite of the remonstrances, the objections and the forebodings of her relativos. For a short time after her union it seemed a if bis life and prosperity were to prove her triumphant answer to their objections. All was sunny, cheerful aml promising. The very friends who had warned and exnostulated with her wcre willing to believe tuat they had been wronp, and Mary right ; and that atTcction had not unerringly pointed out to her, excellence of character which they had not perceived. As if willing to atone for past enmity by warra friendship, they crowded advaDtages and facilities upon hiui, and liberally opened the way to wealth. For a time, all succeeded that he undertook, and Doyoungnianseemednioreceitainlyas-uivi of competence than Henry Irwine. And Mary, how happy_ she was 1 We can pardon her short period of esultation, lor slie bitterly suffered for it. Some men cannot bear prosperity ; and Henry Irwine was one of those. Give thoiu discouragements to meet, and unpropitious circumstacces to combat, and they hew ili.-ir wuy wiili a aik-ut pride and resolute persevcrance which conquers all obstacle-i. But let the sun shine on them, then pride finds outrageous utterance, and their res i lution degenerates into opinionative obetinacy. They take jilcasure in comuientlng good advke, and will do willi'ully wrong, and against their own conviction, to mark their independence. Ilenry Irwine took early occasion to retalíate upon his wife's iriends for what he affected to regard as their unwarrantable opposition. He accused them while they were in no small degree the authors of his prosperity, as bcins drawn to hira by it ; and intimated that selfishness was the origin of their tardy friendship, no less tlian it had been of 1 1 1 ¦ former enmity. Mary was a true wife. She saw the injustice of her husbund, bat declincd to acknowledge it even to herself. At length the coolness becamc more and more chiliing, until it resulted in irrcparulil estrangement between Irwine and the friends of his wife. He gloried in what he considered a complete, and what he endeavored to persuade hiruself, wasa righteous revenge. He made his former opponents suitors for his friendship, and proudly spurncd them. Such was his mpreostOD. Tnain was that they had overlooked thfl disagreeable character of their favorite's husband, and striven to befriend him ; but that, true to his natural low instincts, he refüsed. Neither party was entirely right. When the breach becamo final, Mary Irwine deserted her father and mother, and kindred, for her husband, and identilied lnrself with him, so far rs lingering tir-t affections would permit. But, if her heart yearned over the ín dear friends ot' br youth, she never suffered her conduct to letray wbat she accounted a wcakness, but clung to her husband with a inadnesa of affection, which deserved a better return than she received. Uitiry Irwine, as we have ?aid, could not bear prosperity. A secret reason, hardly acknowledged to himself, why he Jisliked hjs wife's relations, was tañase they perceived hisdanger and venturcd to tvarn him. His sensitive pride took captious alarm, and he gloried in mocking reproof by persisting íd indiscretion. The end of such a course is easily prophesied. He feil awong thieves ; and for the wounds of friends exchanged the selfish flattery of knaves. Plucked of money, and bankrupt in credit and character, he awoke at last to find bimself a ruined uian, with a meek, umomplaining wife dependent on him, and feeling twice as keenly as he did, all his ruin and degradation. The temptation wbich lias ruined many camc in to complete dcstruclion. He .songht oblivioo of bis degradation in the wine cup, and there lost tlie last redeeuiing trace of hope of tusnhood. lt is a fearful fall when the appetites triutnph, and the reason is dethroned ; when the man wakes only to misery, and rushes back to inebriation again in the vain hope to forget himself. A lower depth still remained, and Henry Irwine fuund even that. His jaundiced (hüughtsdarcd to suspect her who, for love of him, had surrendered friends, home, happiness, hope. Becaupe she did not, atid could not rail against her own friends ; because she was meek, quiet and uncomplaining, he quarreled with her, and even said she hatcd him, and regretted that her faie was coupled with his. The last she could not deny ; thefirst he saw in his own heart, and judged that it must be in hers also.' It is thcir own faneied, concealed reflection in thegood that the vsickeJ hate. He dared, moreover, to accus his wife as 10 the cauoc of all his misfortUBes. He ?aid she triumphed in themi Can we wonder that she would not say she did not? lt might have beensaid shethought such a charge too wickedly preposterous to mmr. or it might have been that ihe was warÍM uto hate at last, and not displeasod to tind that there was one mode in which she could iuflict pain on one who had heapod so uiauy wrongs on her. Mary was drawing near her "Dark Hour." Thtrc is in uiost, if not in all careers, a ui ut tho orlwu oí' Ufa - ia hour upoa which all the future hangs. That crisis camc to Mary Irwine. il i-r liousc, stripped of muuy comforts, was yet not quite desolate. She clung, while a glimmor of hope remained, to her faith in her husband. Sho belieyed that all who knew him did not know his degradaron. She thought that she had coneeali-d it from many ; and, fond simpleton I imagined that her friends did not see through the hollowness of her smile, when she pitke of hor tiushaml. it was night and late. There were vóices and a rude knock at the door. She opened it, and her own brother entered, precediug the polioeman, in whose custody he liud tound the inebríate husband. She looked, and comprehended all. They laid dio genselew mas on a sofa, and the strangera lelt the houe. " l'ut on your bonnet, Mary," said her brother, "and rome home with me." Mary cast au eye on the wreek of her lovo and hope. Loathing thoughts rose wiUiiu her ; she made one step as if to rtiinply, for escape was now first in her thought.", and she feit that she had borne all thul huuian nature could endure. The child, disturbed in its sleep, recalled her to the thought how hopeless was escape. The babe suiiled, and in the smile she saw the sunshiue of other days. Bowing over the eradle, she sobbcd out of her heart all its stern reeoli "Cowe," s:iid her brother. "But my ehild !" " We will send for it, said her brother ; but, perceiving a strange look, almost indignant, through her tears, " We will take it with us," he said. But the first careless expression had turned the scale. She made no answer, until after waiting a moment in BÜence, her brother said, and now more sharply, " come." " Wait tilt to morrow," she said. " Now or never," said her brother. Shu made no reply, but bcnding over the int'ant soothed it again to sleep. She wavered - thought- parleyed ; and was roused at last trom a half dream by the noise of a closing door. Shc rose suddenly and gazed wildlv about her. Her brother haa gone, her dark hour had paseed for the teniptation was gone. Did she do right? Mark the sequel, and then answer. Heury Irwine awoke to consciousness in aburning f'ever. It was not merely that whieh invariably follows debauch, nor was it that terrific delirium consequent pon long indulgence in intoxication ; for his fall had been rapid, and the time of his error short. But disappointuient, excess and exposure liad made hitn, in a short space, a perfect wreek. He obeyed her guidance like a cbild, and she conductcd him to his bed, and then dispatched the following note to an old friend : " Mary Irwine hopes that among all the friends of her better days, there is one left who will come to her in her extremity, with no tnpo.ssible demands, and that she will tirid that one friend in Dr. Kalpb." The pbysician, a benevolent old gentleman, was with her even before her niessenger returned. He listened kindly, and if a thought of' incredulity arose in hismind he concealed it, and followed the wife, with kind words to the bedside of her husband. For ;i moment he stood regarding the sad picture, then gently taking the patient's hand, proceeded mechanically to count bis pulse. " Oh, doctor," oried the sufferer, turnmg away, " this is the cruelty of kindness.' A dark shade came over his face. " No !" ho shouted in a husky voicc, " it is the keenness of insult. " He rose to spring forward- but his face became deadly pale, and he sank exhausted and powerlcss. The doctor sighed and turned away. He sat down, and pencilingaprescription, said, "I will cali again." "Will you, indeed?" said Mary, her face brightening up. "Poor child," said the old gentleman. " You are plcased to find that I admit that something ails him besides intern perance. Strange- strangc- but very natura!. And he hurried out. ll.nry l.iv some hours, weak but consciou. Faithfully but patiently did lus wife attfind uuon tiim ; for, while the neces sity of attentiiin an.l the promptings of her heai t called her to his side, lie gneved to see that the Muht of her face disturbed him-disturbed him almost to distraclion. And who can wonder: It was a long, long day ; and day passed into eveniug and evening into niiduight, the care of her husband and her child suffered her to rest. Exhausted nature elaimed har due ; and Mary dreamed. She was back in the joy of other years; yct over that joy there seemed a sadness. l'üoplc were decrying him to her, and she was zeulou.-ly defending him- as she had ot'ttn done. x.nd while she dreamed, she thought hi pleasant voice spake in ber ear "Mary." Again it spake, and now she sprang up and went to his bedsidt'. " ( :m you forgive me?" he muttered. " Forgive you dearest," she replied; but she did not know whether he was aslcep or awake - whether he spoke, or wlu'ther (he voice were a dream voice. So tbr want of furtuer words, she placed her cheek to his. 4 Mess you, Mary. Now, I can rest," said the invalid. He f' 11 leep, but the ihock his health had reoeived was not to be rctrieved o easüy as by one uight's rest. On the morrow he was both better and worse- better, for there was less fover ; worae, for there was l6trength. And so wore day aftcr day. We need not relate how, with sure progresa but slow, death inastered its vietim, f'or Ilenry Irwine's days werc numbered. And we need not describe how the young wife hovered over his cich, and his weary life was closed n forgivcness and peace. Brothers and friends she lacked none now, ibr lic who L-ullö us henee by death, had surrounded itsapproach withcireumstaneos which removed eniniiies and distnued hate. He passed away quietly, and his last lineas left a gentle meraory of liim in iuen's heart. . There was a sound of wheels at the door. "Now, daughtgr," said her mother, as she entered, " we have come for you as we prouiined. ('ome home again to our hearth and hearts. Forget that you were ever away." Mary silently pointed to her child. Her mother could uiake no reply, and Mary said : " With this memorial of'him, mother, I cannot forget thaL I have been away. And, oh ! how grateful ain T. that l remaiued here to sec all roconciled on earth ; to note the evidencts in a ineek and quiet, a repentant and resigncd spirit that all is forgiven in Heaven ! When this dear child ehall live to ask of his fatber, I ':iii speak of the peaeefu! closo of his brief day but I need not oí' ii droudt'ul storaus." And Mary lrwine bade adieu to the house in which she had met and conquered her "Park Hour."