the intended separation till after the wedding, to which he very
graciously consented.

* * * * *

Again there was a merry gathering at the home of Jeanette Roland. It was
her wedding night, and she was about to clasp hands for life with
Charles Romaine. True to her idea of taking things as she found them,
she had consented to be his wife without demanding of him any
reformation from the habit which was growing so fearfully upon him. His
wealth and position in society like charity covered a multitude of
sins. At times Jeanette felt misgivings about the step she was about to
take, but she put back the thoughts like unwelcome intruders, and like
the Ostrich, hiding her head in the sand, instead of avoiding the
danger, she shut her eyes to its fearful reality. That night the wine
flowed out like a purple flood; but the men and women who drank were
people of culture, wealth and position, and did not seem to think it was
just as disgraceful or more so to drink in excess in magnificently
furnished parlors, as it was in low Barrooms or miserable dens where
vice and poverty are huddled together. And if the weary children of
hunger and hard toil instead of seeking sleep as nature's sweet
restorer, sought to stimulate their flagging energies in the enticing
cup, they with the advantages of wealth, culture and refinement could
not plead the excuses of extreme wretchedness, or hard and unremitting
drudgery.

"How beautiful, very beautiful," fell like a pleasant ripple upon the
ear of Jeanette Roland, as she approached the altar, beneath her wreath
of orange blossoms, while her bridal veil floated like a cloud of lovely
mist from her fair young head. The vows were spoken, the bridal ring