"I saw you when you came in, Alfred. You were in a sad condition."
For a few moments the young man looked his mother in the face, while an expression of grief and mortification passed over his own.
"It is true," he at length said, in a subdued tone, "that I did drink to excess, last evening. But do not be alarmed on that account. I will be more guarded, in future. And let me now assure you, most earnestly, that I am in no danger: that I am not fond of wine. I was led to drink too much, last evening, from being in a company where wine was circulated as freely as water. I thought you looked troubled, this morning, but did not dream that it was on my account. Let me, then, urge you to banish from your mind all fears in regard to me."
"I cannot banish such fears, my son, so long as I know that you have dangerous associates. No one is led off, no one is corrupted suddenly."
"But I do not think that I have dangerous associates."
"I am sure you have, Alfred. If they had not been such, you would not have been led astray, last night. Go not into the way of temptation. Shun the very beginnings of evil. Remember Pope's warning declaration:—
"'Vice, to be hated, needs but to be seen,' &c."
"Indeed, indeed, Ma, you are far too serious about this matter."
"No, my son, I cannot be!"
"Well, perhaps not. But, as I know the nature of my associations far better than you possibly can, you must pardon me for thinking that they involve no danger. I have arrived to years of discretion, and certainly think that I am, or at least ought to be, able to judge for my self."