“And be for ever restless under it,—­for ever galled by its slavish chains,” another voice urged, instantly.

“Yes,” he said, “that is the consequence which makes me hesitate.  Fool—­fool—­not to have taken a pledge for a limited period!  I was deceived—­tricked into an act that my sober reason condemns!  And should I now be held by that act?  No!—­no!—­no!  The voice of reason says no!  And I will not!”

As he said this, he turned about, and walked with a firm, deliberate step, towards the bar-room he had passed but a few moments before, entered it, called for a glass of wine, and drank it off.

“Now I am a free man!” he said, as he turned away, and proceeded towards his place of business, with an erect bearing.

He had not gone far, however, before he felt a strong desire for another glass of wine, unaccompanied by any thought or fear of danger.  From the moment he had placed the forbidden draught to his lips, the struggle in his mind had ceased, and a great calm succeeded to a wild conflict of opposite principles and influences.  He felt happy, and doubly assured that he had taken a right step.  A second glass of wine succeeded the first, and then a third, before he returned to his place of business.  These gave to the tone of his spirits a very perceptible elevation, but threw over his mind a veil of confusion and obscurity, of which, however, he was not conscious.  An hour only had passed after his return to business, before he again went out, and seeking an obscure drinking-house, where his entrance would not probably be observed, he called for a glass of punch, and then retired into one of the boxes, where it was handed to him.  Its fragrance and flavour, as he placed it to his lips, were delightful—­so delightful, that it seemed to him a concentration of all exquisite perceptions of the senses.

Another was soon called for, and then another and another, each one stealing away more and more of distinct consciousness, until at last he sunk forward on the table before which he had seated himself, perfectly lost to all consciousness of external things!

Gladly would the writer draw a veil over all that followed that insane violation of a solemn pledge, sealed as it had been by the hand-writing of confirmation.  But he cannot do it.  The truth, and the whole truth needs to be told,—­the beacon-light must be raised on the gloomy shores of destruction, as a warning to the thoughtless or careless navigator.

Sadder and more wretched was the heart of Mrs. Marshall during the morning of that day, than it had been on the evening before.  There was an overwhelming sense of impending danger in her mind, that she could not dissipate by any mode of reasoning with herself.  As her children came about her, she would look upon them with an emotion of yearning tenderness, while her eyes grew dim with tears.  And then she would look up, and breathe a heart-felt prayer that He who tempereth the winds to the shorn lamb, would regard her little ones.