“Oh, that is but one in a thousand; and, besides, what influence can you possibly have. Who, think you, will be the better man for seeing you so rude—I must say it—as to refuse to take wine with him?
“We none of us know the influence we exert—perhaps never will know it in this world. But, still, the principle remains the same. To-night, however, I had a definite object in my pointed refusal. Young Lewis has recently made a resolution to avoid every thing that can lead him into his one fault. Noble, generous to “the half of his kingdom”—highly cultivated, and wealthy, he nearly shipwrecked his fortune when abroad, brother tells me, by dissipation—the effect of this same warm-hearted, generous nature. It is but very lately that he has seen what a moral and mental ruin threatened him, and has resolved to gain a mastery over the temptation. I knew of it by accident, and I should not tell it, even to you, only that it may prevent his being rallied by Mr. Rushton or yourself. To-night was his first trial. I saw the struggle between custom, pride, and good resolutions. If he had yielded then, he would have become disheartened on reflection, and, perhaps, abandoned his new life altogether. I cannot tell—our fate in this world is decided by such trivial events. At any rate, I have spared him one stroke—he will be stronger next time to refuse for himself.”
“I should not have dreamed of all this! Why I thought it was only his Parisian gallantry that made him join with you; but, then, if he has once been dissipated, the case is hopeless.”
“Oh, no Lucy, not hopeless; when a strong judgment is once convinced, it is the absence of reflection, or a little moral courage, at first, that ruins so many.”
“Excellent, excellent,” cried the lively Mrs. Moore, who came up just in time to hear Isabel’s closing sentence—“If Miss Gray is not turned temperance lecturer! Come, ladies, let her have a numerous audience while she is about it. Ah, I know you think to get into Father Mathew’s good graces. Shall you call upon him when he arrives, and offer your services as assistant?”
“We were discussing the possibility of entire reformation,” said Isabel, calmly, quite unmoved by Mrs. Moore’s covert sarcasms, to the ladies who now gathered round the lounge on which she sat. “The reformation of a man who has been once intemperate, I mean.”
“Oh, intemperance is so shockingly vulgar, my dear,” quavered forth Mrs. Bradford, the stately aunt of the hostess. “How can you talk about such things. No, to be sure, when a man is once dissipated, you might as well give him up. He’s lost to society, that’s certain; besides, we women have nothing to do with it.”
“I beg your pardon, my dear madam, but I think we have a great deal to do, though not in the way of assisting Father Matthew to address Temperance Conventions, as Mrs. Moore kindly suggests. Moreover, I have known a confirmed inebriate, so supposed, to give up all his old associations, and become a useful and honorable member of society.”
“Tell us about it, please, Miss Gray,” urged Emily Bradford, deeply interested. “There will be plenty of time before the gentlemen come in.”
And as the request was seconded by many voices, Isabel told her simple tale.