"I am sorry," replied Lewellin, "that I have kept you up so late; but Mr. Gordon pressed me to spend the evening with him, and the time slipped by before I was aware of it."
"I am glad to see you home," said Mr. Jordan; "and, as we have been expecting you every minute for the last three hours, we have not yet had family prayer." The good man knelt down, and prayed most affectionately for his young friend, who stood exposed to so many temptations.
Next day Lewellin went to the office as usual, but nothing particular occurred till the evening, when Gordon asked him to accept the loan of a book, which he had no doubt would amuse him. He took it, and hastened home to peruse it. Immediately after tea he retired to his own room. He opened the volume, read the title-page, threw the book on the table, and exclaimed, "No; I'll not read it. I gave my word of honour to my mother that I would never read a novel; and I will not sacrifice my honour to please any friend." He paced the room backwards and forwards for some time, reflecting on the past evening, till the thoughts of his heart troubled him, when he seated himself in the arm-chair which was standing near the table. As the book was elegantly bound, he took it up, and examined the workmanship; read the whole of the title-page, and then the preface; and, finding nothing very objectionable, he read on, till startled by a knock at the door. "Who is there?" "Will you come down to supper, Sir?" He took out his watch, and found that he had been reading two hours, and as it was the first novel he ever read, it had so deeply fixed his attention, that he had nearly finished it before he felt conscious of what he was doing. "Yes, yes, I'll come presently; but don't wait." "Let me see, there are thirty more pages; I'll finish it." He read on, but the charm was broken by a recollection of his vow; and he again threw the book from him, exclaiming, "Fascinating wretch, thou hast beguiled me of my honour!" He hastened out of the room, that he might avoid the reflections of his own mind; and when he entered the parlour, he found an interesting young man, of whom he had often heard Mr. Jordan speak. This young man was intelligent and pious, highly accomplished in his manners, and just on the eve of being married. After supper he engaged in family prayer; and when offering up his devout thanksgivings to the God of all grace, for preserving him from the paths of the destroyer, and guiding his feet in the way of peace, he made a natural transition to the situation of Lewellin, and most fervently prayed that he might be enabled to escape the pollution of the world, and consecrate himself to the service of the God of his fathers. Lewellin endeavoured to conceal his emotions, but the recollection of his having that night sacrificed his honour, threw such a melancholy air over his countenance, that Mrs. Jordan, who felt deeply interested in his welfare, abruptly asked him if he was unwell. The question perplexed him; but assuming his ordinary cheerfulness, he replied, "No, Madam." Having sat a little longer, he took leave of the company, and retired to rest. On casting his eye on the book, as he stood musing, he said, "Well, I don't know that I have received any moral injury from reading it; and perhaps my mother did wrong to press me to pledge my word that I would not read a novel."
Next Sabbath Mr. Gordon called on him in the afternoon, and asked him to accompany him to the Lock, to hear a celebrated preacher. As they were passing through St. James's Park, they met Mr. Phillips (the other clerk in the office), with three ladies. The meeting appeared accidental; and as Mr. Phillips pressed his friends to do him and the ladies the honour of their company, politeness induced a compliance, and the whole party took an excursion on the river. They did not return till late; and it was past twelve before Lewellin reached his lodgings. On entering the parlour he made an apology for not being home earlier, and to avoid being embarrassed by any questions, took his candle, and retired to his own room. He sat himself down; but the sight of the Bible, which lay on the table, agonized his feelings, and he began to reproach himself in the bitterest terms. "Yes, a new scene is opening before me; but what a scene! No; I will break the charm before I am completely enslaved! My mother does not know it.——But the eye of God——I cannot conceal myself from him. Woe is me! I am lost! I am undone! No; I will repent. I will ask for mercy." He threw himself on his bed, and after hours of mental torture and bitter lamentation he fell asleep; but he was scared by the visions of the night, and when the light of the morning dawned, it brought no tidings of peace. At length he arose, and went to the office, where he met his companions in guilt, but his mind was too much depressed to allow him to be cheerful; and the references which were made to the excursion of the preceding evening aggravated his misery. When the business of the day was closed, he walked away in silent sadness; but he had not gone far before Gordon overtook him, and invited him to take some refreshment in a coffee-house. He strongly objected—and then consented.
"I perceive," said Gordon, "that you are unhappy, and I guess the cause. You suffer your noble mind to be tortured by the tales of the nursery. Treat them with contempt."
"No, I am not tortured by the tales of the nursery, but by the reflections of a guilty conscience."
"Conscience," said Gordon, smiling; "I had such a thing once, but as it stood in the way of my love of pleasure, I got rid of it, and now I am happy, because I am free. And I assure you that you will never be fitted to enjoy life till you form juster notions of the Deity than religion inspires; and till you open your heart to the sublime gratifications which the society and amusements of this far-famed city afford. Come, give way to the impulse of your generous nature, and accompany me this evening."
"Where?"
"Where you shall have a mental feast."