"I must bid you good night," said Edward abruptly, and, quite to the surprise of the trio he withdrew without another word.
His mother suspecting something wrong, followed him to his room, and with true motherly solicitude sought out the cause. "Edward," said she, "when you were a boy, you used to confide all your annoyances to your mother. Can it be that anything has been said this evening to wound your feelings?"
"There are none that love like a mother," said Edward, putting his arm tenderly around her neck, "and there is none in whom I can so safely confide as in you, mother, but manhood's griefs are not so easily soothed as boyhood's. It is not now a broken kite to mend, or a bruised finger to bind up, would it were; would that I had not lived to see this day."
"Why, Edward, what do you mean?"
"I mean, mother, that Miss DeWolf has refused to become my wife, and all because I would not consent to pledge myself to total abstinence from all liquors. I would not deceive her and bind myself to pursue a different course from that which I intend. My habits, I believe, are generally considered good, and if a woman cannot take me as I am, I would not ask her to take me at all."
"O Edward, Edward," said Mrs. Sherman beseechingly, "do not let wounded pride, and self-will, come between you and the woman you really love, for I do assure you, young ladies like Miss DeWolf are very rare."
"Were she a thousand times more lovely and interesting, beloved more she could not be, but, mother, I shall never yield the point, and admit that I am incapable of controlling my appetite. When it suits me to take a social glass with a friend, I shall do it; and when I choose to decline it shall be of my own free will."
"You are a free agent, certainly, Edward, you may pursue the course you have marked out for yourself, and go through life a moderate drinker, and young men may point to you as you have to Judge Hastings, and make your escape an excuse for venturing in the same dangerous path, and thus go down to a drunkard's grave; or you may yourself venture to near the precipice, and before you are aware take the fatal plunge; for drunkenness, like death, generally takes the victim unawares. In either case your influence must inevitably act upon those with whom you associate, and you cannot escape the fearful responsibility. Then judgment day alone will open the records of those who have been forever ruined through the influence of moderate drinkers, as well as the confirmed drunkard. The preponderating influence, however, lies with the moderate drinker; with such men as Judge Hastings; who, perhaps, have given the subject but little thought, and who having through a long course of years tampered without apparent injury, with the intoxicating cup, deem that others may do as he has done.
"Yes, and so they may, mother, if they choose. Every man must answer for his own crimes and not for the crimes of others."
"True Edward, and if your neighbor become a drunkard, see to it that the sin lies not at your door."