is father's assistance, he set up as an apothecary, on rather
a small scale, of course; but Alice was used to simple fare and to
helping herself.

All would have been well with them but for one thing--the husband
became a drunkard; not immediately--his love for his wife kept him
sober for some time. Nothing was more beautiful than the way they
lived for a year or two; but the habit of drinking a little, a habit
which he had formed in his father's shop, and which he intended to
cure, returned. The wretched man had not strength to resist it.

He became fretful, and Alice, for the first time in her life, became
unhappy. She had never before heard any but the voice of kindness;
and now, from him she loved best in the world she received sometimes
sharp and disagreeable words. He was very sorry afterwards, and all
would seem well again, but he did not really reform, and, many a
time, my locks, falling over her innocent round cheek, were wetted
with her tears.

Alice was good as an angel. She forgave her husband, believed him
when he promised to leave off drinking, and never said a harsh word
to him. James kept his promise for a month or two, but fell again,
and then more hopelessly; for, after he had drunk a little, he
feared his wife would know what he had done, and felt so unhappy
that he drank more to drown his feelings; and, for the first time,
he was brought home to his wife dead drunk.

Alice tended her husband as if he were only a sick man; she had him
put into a nice bed, she washed and mended his soiled and torn
clothes, she was near him to catch his first word when he recovered
his senses, she never reproached him, she tried, by love, to win him
back to sobriety and duty, she wept, she prayed for him.

He suffered all that man can from shame; he could not look her in
the face; he had destroyed the charm and glory of life; he was
unable, or rather he thought he was, to conquer his enemy; and,
before six years were at an end, partly from broken and ruined
health, and partly from utter misery, he fell into a rapid decline,
and died.

Alice loved her husband; and never was sick man nursed with more
loving, cheerful patience than was he. He wept over his sins; he
asked her, with every returning and every setting sun, to forgive
him and to pray God to pardon him.

She was an angel of pity and mercy to him, to the end. When she
leaned over him to kiss him, he would pull her beautiful hair--for
I was still beautif