“Such an enemy is not drawing nigh to your dwelling, Jane.”

“Heaven grant that it may not be so!” was the solemn ejaculation.

“To this, Marshall felt no inclination to reply.  He had already said enough in regard to his pledge to awaken the fears of his wife, and to call forth from her expressions of strong opposition to his views of the nature of his obligation.  His silence tended, in no degree, to quiet her troubled feelings.

On the next morning, Marshall was thoughtful and silent.  After breakfast, he went out to attend to business, as usual.  As he closed the door after him, his wife heaved a deep sigh, lifted her eyes upwards, and prayed silently, but fervently, that her husband might be kept from evil.  And well might she thus pray, for he needed support and sustenance in the conflict that was going on in his bosom—­a conflict far more vigorous than was dreamed of by the wife.  He had invited temptation, and now he was in the midst of a struggle, that would end in a more perfect emancipation of himself from the demon-vice that had once ruled him with a rod of iron, or in his being cast down to a lower depth of wretchedness and misery than that out of which he had arisen.  In this painful struggle he stood not alone.  Good spirits clustered around him, anxiously interested in his fate, and endeavouring to sustain his faltering purposes; and evil spirits were also nigh, infusing into his mind reasons for the abandonment of his useless pledge.  It was a period in his history full of painful interest.  Heaven was moving forward to aid and rescue him, and hell to claim another victim.  But neither the one nor the other could act upon him for good or for evil, except through his own volition.  It was for him to turn himself to the one, and live, or to the other, and die.

So intense was this struggle, that, after he had entered his place of business, he remained there for only a short time, unable to fix his mind upon anything out of himself, or to bid the tempest in his mind “be still.”  Going out into the street, he turned his steps he knew not whither.  He had moved onwards but a few paces, when the thought of home and his children came up in his mind, accompanied by a strong desire to go back to his dwelling—­a feeling that required a strong effort to resist.  The moment he had effectually resisted it, and resolved not to go home, his eye fell upon the tempting exposure of liquors in a bar-room, near which he happened to be passing.  At the same instant, it seemed as if a strong hand were upon him, urging him towards the open door.

“No—­no—­no!” he said, half aloud, hurrying forward, “I am not prepared for that.  And yet, what a fool I am,” he continued, “to suffer myself thus to be agitated!  Why not come to some decision, and end this uncertain, painful state at once?  But what shall I do?  How shall I decide?”

“To keep your pledge,” a voice, half audible, seemed to say.