Ten times had he thus fallen, each time repenting, and each time restoring a degree of confidence to the heart of his wife, by promises of future abstinence.  Gradually did hope continue to grow weaker and weaker, at each relapse, until it had nearly failed.

“There is no hope,” she said to herself, mournfully, as she sat in deep thought, on the evening in which occurred the scene we have just described.  “He has tried so often, and fallen again at every effort.  There is no hope—­no hope!”

It was an hour after Mr. Martin had retired to his chamber, that his wife went up softly, and first went into Emma’s room.  The child was asleep, and there was on her innocent face a quiet smile, as if pleasant images were resting upon her mind.  A soft kiss was imprinted on her fair forehead, and then Mrs. Martin went into her own chamber.  She found that her husband had retired to bed and was asleep.

But few hours of refreshing slumber visited the eyelids of the almost despairing wife.  Towards morning, however, she sank away into a deep sleep.  When she awoke from this, it was an hour after daylight.  Her husband was up and dressed, and sat beside the bed, looking into her face with an expression of subdued, but calm and tender affection.

“Emma,” he said, taking her hand, as soon as she was fairly awakened, “can you again have confidence in me, or has hope failed altogether?”

Mrs. Martin did not reply, but looked at her husband steadily and inquiringly.

“I understand you,” he said, “you have almost, if not altogether ceased to hope.  I do not wonder at it.  If I had not so often mocked your generous confidence, I would again assure you that all will be well.  I see that what I say does not make the warm blood bound to your face, as once it did.  I will not use idle words to convince you.  But one thing I will say.  I have been, for sometime past, conscious, that it was dangerous for me to touch wine, or ale, or anything that stimulates, as they do.  They only revive an appetite for stronger drinks, while they take away a measure of self-control.  I have, therefore, most solemnly promised myself, that I will never again touch or taste any spirituous liquors, wine, malt, or cider.  Nor will I again attend any convivial parties, where these things are used.  Hereafter, I shall act upon the total-abstinence principle—­for only in total-abstinence, is there safety for one like me.”

There was something so solemn and earnest in the manner of her husband, that Mrs. Martin’s drooping spirits began to revive.  Again did her eye brighten, and her cheek kindle.  Then came a gush of tears attesting the power of a new impulse.  The failing hope was renewed!

And day after day, week after week, and month after month, did that hope strengthen and gain confidence.  Years have passed, since that total-abstinence resolution was taken, and not once during the time has Martin been tempted to violate it.  Yet, is he vividly conscious, that only in total-abstinence from everything that can intoxicate is there safety for him.