"I must have been drunk!" she kept repeating to herself, and on Christmas night she sought her death.
I wrote to kind friends, and interested some ladies in her welfare.
Plenty of clothing was sent for her; a better room, not quite so near the sky, was procured for her.

Her daily walk to the factory was stopped, for more profitable work was given to her.

Finally I left her in the hands of kind friends that I knew would care for her.
Two years passed, and on Christmas Eve I called with a present and a note sent her by a friend.

She was gone--her husband had been released on ticket-of-leave, had found her and joined her, and for a time she kept him as well as herself.

He was more brutal than before, and in his fury, either drunk or sober, he frequently beat her, so that the people of the house had to send them away.