On Easter Sunday six years ago a man lay drunk on his bed. The house in which he lived with his wife and family almost closed up to one of our large and popular churches, for the rolling of the organ and the glad strains of the _Te Deum_ could be heard in their rooms. As the man lay there, his wife, a big-eyed and big-hearted woman, sat on a chair contemplating him. It was the twenty-first anniversary of their wedding. Twenty-one years before she had looked forward to married joys and domestic comforts, but twenty years of sorrow and suffering, unceasing toil, and untold cruelties had been her lot.
Presently there was a loud scream, but the man lay still. A woman, however, from another room ran in, and saw the wife holding a bottle that had evidently contained poison. She ran to the man, shook him violently, and called out: ‘Get up! Get up! Your wife has taken poison’ ‘Let her die, then! Let her die!’ was the only response. A doctor close by was fetched, and he shook the man, but got the same reply: ‘Let her die, then! Let her die!’ Emetics were procured, the stomach-pump applied, and the woman was carried by the police to the nearest infirmary. I heard, of the case, and I knew she would, as soon as possible, be charged with attempted suicide, so I went to see her. As I sat by her bedside in the infirmary, the story of the years came out. Her joy had been all bitterness, for the love she hoped for had turned to cruelty. Children had been born to her, but every child meant extra work and misery.
In a fortnight’s time she stood in the dock, and the evidence of the woman and doctor was taken. The husband was in court, and heard his own words, ‘Let her die! Let her die!’ repeated by both witnesses. There stood the big-eyed woman, silent and sorrowful, for not a word could be got from her. But there was a daughter in court who was not disposed to be silent, and she came forward to tell of her mother’s toil and pains, and of her father’s drunkenness and cruelty. And the big-eyed woman looked pleadingly at her, as if to tell her to hold her peace.
The husband was called up, and asked by the magistrate whether the evidence given by his daughter was true. He replied: ‘Some of it.’ The woman was remanded for a week, and I was asked to make some arrangement for her. I found the husband earned good wages, and the only arrangement I could think of was an agreement between them for a separation, the wife to have a weekly allowance from him. This he agreed to, and was willing that his wife should have the home, he promising also to allow her fifteen shillings per week, to be paid to me. This arrangement met with the approval of the magistrate, who, on the remand, accepted sureties for the wife and let her go.