e fierce desire that battled with
and almost overcame her feeble resolution when the enthusiasm that had
at first upheld her died away, of the suffering of those weary weeks of
conflict, only those can tell who, heroes every one, like her, have
battled with this fierce spiritual Apollyon, and who, unlike her, have
overcome. Hour by hour the maddening desire of gratification wasted
little by little her moral strength. The thirst grew stronger, the will
weaker.

The thought of the home she had brightened by her self-denial, the heart
she had gladdened, the little ones who had drawn their life from hers,
whose trust in her was growing stronger day by day, as evening came and
showed the valued promise still remembered, and morning dawned and found
her faithful, held her back at first; but gradually this also lost its
power. Then that torturing, burning, maddening thirst swept over the
doomed soul like a fierce simoom, drying up the fountains of maternal
tenderness, bearing away all sense of duty, all tenderness and sympathy,
the blessed hope of heaven itself, in its desolating track. One wretched
day, when this thirst was so strong upon her that her priceless soul
grew worthless in her eyes, and she would smilingly have bartered it but
for a single draught; one well-remembered, miserable day, when the
little faces were raised to hers, and found upon it no trace of motherly
affection, only that dark foreboding look, and grew pale with fright
when desire had reached that relentless climax which leaves the victim
no choice but of madness or gratification, she had fiercely summoned her
usual messenger, sent for her usual drink, and sat grimly waiting for
it. In vain that trusty messenger, to whose care the wretched father had
confided that pitiful remnant of family honor, the shame of public
exposure, boldly setting fear of her aside, earnestly besought her to
wrestle with the demon yet a little longer, were it but a single day;
and implored her with tears to remember the little ones on whom this
blow would fall so heavily. There was no tone of motherly affection
within that raging breast to respond to that appeal. With parched,
cracked lips, and burning eyes and bloated face fierce with desire, she
had driven her from her presence. Fear lest the lack of this great need
would drive her to distraction quite, and some worse evil yet befall
them, she had gone her way, weeping as she went. She came back
presently. There was enough