Poor Mary burst into tears, but her mother came to her aid, and said:
“I don’t quite see what good Mary’s signing the pledge will do. She has taken neither beer nor wine for some time past, so that she does all that is needed in the way of example.”
“No, she does not, madam, if you’ll excuse my being so blunt. She just does not do what will make her example tell. Power for good comes through combination; the devil knows it well enough, and he gets drunkards to band together in clubs; and worldly people band together in clubs, and back one another up and concentrate their forces. All who see the curse and misery of the drink should sign, and not stand apart as solitary abstainers; they won’t do the same good; it is by uniting together that the great work is done by God’s blessing. A body of Christian abstainers united in the same work, and bound by the same pledge, attract others, and give them something to lean on and cling to: and that is one reason why we want children to combine in Bands of Hope. Why, I’ve seen a man light a fire with a piece of glass, but how did he do it? Not by putting the fuel under one ray of the sun; not by carrying it about from place to place in the sunshine; but by gathering, with the help of the glass, all the little rays together into one hot bright focus. And so we want to gather together the power and influence of total abstainers in Total Abstinence Societies and Bands of Hope, by their union through the pledge as a common bond. We want to set hearts on fire with a holy love that shall make them burn to rescue poor slaves of the drink from their misery and ruin. Won’t you help? Can you hold back? Are not souls perishing by millions through the drink, and is any sacrifice too dear to make, any cross too heavy to take up in such a cause?”
The old man had risen, and was walking up and down the room with great swinging strides. Then he stopped abruptly and waited for an answer.
“I’m sure,” said Mrs Franklin, “we would both sign if it could do any real good.”
“It will do good, it must do good: sign now;” he produced a pledge-book: “no time like the present.”
The signatures were made, and then Mr Tankardew, clasping his thin hands together, and lifting up his eyes to heaven, offered a short emphatic prayer that God would bless and strengthen these His servants, and enable them by His grace to be a blessing to others as pledged abstainers. And then he turned again to Mary, and said:
“You have given me the one promise; will you give me the other? Will you promise me that you will never knowingly marry a man who loves the drink?”
Mary buried her face in her hands. A few moments, and no one spoke.
“Hear me, my child,” cried the old man, again beginning to pace the room with measured strides; “you are dear to me, very dear, for you’re the image of one lost to me years ago, long weary years ago. I cannot bear to see you offered as another victim on the altar of the Drink-Moloch: he has had victims enough: too many, too many. Do you wish to wither into a premature grave? Do you wish to see the light die out of your mother’s smile? Then marry a drink-worshipper. Do you wish to tremble every time you hear the footstep of the man who has turned ‘sweet home’ into a shuddering prison? then marry a drink-worshipper. Do you wish to see little children hide the terror of their eyes in your lap and tremble at the name of father? Then marry a drink-worshipper. Stay, stay, I’m an old fool to break out in this way, and scare you out of your wits;” for Mary and her mother were both sobbing bitterly: “forgive me, but don’t forget me; there, let us change the subject.”