The next morning Edward repented of his crime, and in his inmost
soul felt it to be such,--a crime of deepest dye.
Emily wept as she bent over him.
"Cease thy tears," said he, "and forgive; it is but that word,
spoken by thee, that can send peace to my soul. Yet what peace can I
expect? I have wronged thee!"-and the wretched man wept like a
child.
New thoughts continually sprang into existence,--the days of his
youth, the bliss of home, and his present situation. He felt
disgraced;--how should he redeem his character?
"O, that the grave would hide me," continued Edward, "and that in
death I might forget this crime! But no! I cannot forget it; it will
cling to me through life, and the future--"
He would have said more, but the strong emotions of his soul choked
his utterance.
He arose and paced the room in agony of feeling which pen cannot
describe. Suddenly halting, he gazed steadfastly upon the face of
his wife. It was deadly pale, and a tear dimmed the usual lustre of
her eye.
"Comfort thyself," said he; "no further evil shall come upon thee.
It shall never be said you are a drunkard's wife,--no, no, no,
never!"
"Let us, then, forget the past," said Mrs. Dayton.
"What! forget those days when I had not tasted? O, misery indeed, if
I cannot retain their remembrance!" said Edward.
"Not so, Edward; we would remember those, but forget the evil that
has befallen us,--all will be well."
"Do you-can you forgive?"
"God will forgive; and shall not I?"
"Then let this be a pledge of the future;" and, taking her hand in
his, he said; "I resolve to walk in the path of right, and never
more to wander, God being my witness and my strength."
"'T is well thou hast pledged thyself," said she; "but know thou the
tempter is on every side. Should the wine-cup touch thy lips, dash
it aside, and proclaim yourself a pledged man."
"I will!" was the response, and, taking a pen, he boldly placed his
name to the following pledge:
"PLEDGE.-We pledge ourselves to abstain from the use of all
intoxicating drinks, except the moderate use of wine, beer and
cider."
Such was the pledge to which he affixed his name, and such the
pledge by which men of those days endeavored to stay the tide of
intemperance. Did not every man who signed that pledge himself to
become a moderate drinker; and is not every moderate drinker pledged
to become a drunkard? What a pledge! Yet we should not blame the men
of former years for pursuing a course which they conscientiously
thought to be right. That was the first step. It was well as far as
it led; but it paused at the threshold of the ark of safety, and
there its disciples fell. They had not seen, as have men of late
years, the ruinous tendency of such a course; and knew not, as we
now do, that total abstinence is the only sure course.
The pledge Edward had signed was no preventive in his case. He had
tasted; in fact, he had become a lover of strong drink; and the
temptation of having it constantly beside him, and daily dealing it
out to others, was too strong for him to resist. When he drank, he
did think, as Emily had bade him, that he was a pledged man; but
that pledge permitted him to drink wine. The remedy such a pledge
applied was of no avail. It failed to reach the fountain-head, and
strove to stop the stream by placing slight resistances in its way.
A long time must elapse before a man can know the heart of his
fellow-man, if, indeed, it can ever be known; and it was not until
Edward had become addicted to habits of intemperance that he
discovered the professed friendship of Mr. Treves to be insincere.
Words of warning seldom came from his lips. What cared he if Edward
did fall? Such being the case, the business would come into his own
hands; and such "a consummation devoutly to be wished" it was very
evident that if Edward did not soon reform was not far distant.
Now Emily Dayton began to experience anxious days and sleepless
nights, and Mrs. Brandon begged of Edward to reform. Often he would
do so. He would sign that pledge; but it was like an attempt to stay
a torrent with a straw. That pledge! 'twas nothing! yea, worse than
nothing!
Six months of sorrowing passed, and what a change we behold!
Experience has shown to Edward that the use of brandy is dangerous,
and good dame Brandon has been led to believe that there are
temptations in the city which she little thought of.
Edward, driven from his business, revels in bar-rooms, and riots at
midnight; whilst the patient, uncomplaining, enduring Emily, forced
by creditors from her former home, finds shelter from the storm in a
small tenement; where, by the aid of her needle, she is enabled to
support herself and aged aunt, whilst a prattling infant plays at
her side, and, laughing in its childish sports, thinks not of the
sorrows it was born to encounter, and knows not the sad feelings of
its mother's wounded heart.