"And yet," replied Mrs. Birtwell, with a bitterness of tone she could not repress, "you and I and some of our best citizens and church people, instead of trying to free the land from this dreadful curse, strike hands with those who are engaged in spreading broadcast through society its baleful infection."
Mr. Elliott dropped his eyes to the floor like one who felt the truth of a stinging accusation, and remained silent. His mind was in great confusion. Never before had his own responsibility for this great evil looked him in the face with such a stern aspect and with such rebuking eyes.
"By example and invitation—nay, by almost irresistible enticements," continued Mrs. Birtwell—"we tempt the weak and lure the unwary and break down the lines of moderation that prudence sets up to limit appetite. I need not describe to you some of our social saturnalias. I use strong language, for I cannot help it. We are all too apt to look on their pleasant side, on the gayety, good cheer and bright reunions by which they are attended, and to excuse the excesses that too often manifest themselves. We do not see as we should beyond the present, and ask ourselves what in natural result is going to be the outcome of all this. We actually shut our eyes and turn ourselves away from the warning signs and stern admonitions that are uplifted before us.
"Is it any matter of surprise, Mr. Elliott, that we should be confronted now and then with some of the dreadful consequences that flow inevitably from the causes to which I refer? or that as individual participants in these things we should find ourselves involved in such direct personal responsibility as to make us actually shudder?"
Mrs. Birtwell did not know how keen an edge these sentences had for Mr. Elliott, nor how, deeply they cut. As for the clergyman, he kept his own counsel.
"What can we do in this sad case?" he asked, after a few assenting remarks on the dangers of social drinking. "This is the great question now. I confess to being entirely at a loss. I never felt so helpless in the presence of any duty before."
"I suppose," replied Mrs. Birtwell, "that the way to a knowledge of our whole duty in any came is to begin to do the first thing that we see to be right."
"Granted; and what then? Do you see the first right thing to be done?"
"I believe so."
"What is it?"