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O, as to that, it was kept, rigidly. Nothing that could intoxicate was allowed to touch his lips. Of course, he was at first frequently asked to drink by his associates, but his reply to all importunities was–

“No–I have sworn off for six months.”

“So you have said for the last six months,” remarked young man, named Watson, one day, on his refusing for the twentieth time to drink with him.

“Not for six months, Watson. It is only three months this very day since I swore off.”

“Well, it seems to me like six months, anyhow. But do you think that you feel any better for all this total-abstinence?”

“O as to that, I don’t know that I feel such a wonderful difference in body; but in mind I certainly do feel a great deal better.”

“How so?”

“While I drank, I was conscious that I was beginning to be too fond of drinking, and was too often painfully conscious that I had taken too much. Now, I am, of course, relieved from all such unpleasant feelings.”

“Well, that’s something, at least. But I never saw you out of the way.”

“Do you know the reason; Watson?”

“No.”

“I’ll tell you. You were always too far gone yourself, when we drank freely together, to perceive my condition.”

“So you say.”

“It’s true.”

“Well, have it as you like. But, see here, John, what are you going to do when your six months are out?”

“I’m going to be a sober man, as I am now.”

“You never were a drunkard.”

“I was precious near being one, then.”

“Nonsense! That’s all some old woman’s notion of yours.”

“Well, be that as it may, I certainly intend continuing to be as sober a man as I have been for the last three months.”

“Won’t you drink a drop after your time is up?”

“That’ll be just as I choose. I will drink or let it alone, as I like. I shall then be free to drink moderately, or not at all, as seems agreeable to me.”

“That is a little more sensible than your perpetual total-abstinence, teetotal, cold-water system. Who would be such a miserable slave? I would rather die drunk in the gutter, than throw away my liberty.”

“I believe I have said as much myself.”

“Don’t you feel a desire to have a good glass of wine, or a julep, now and then?”

“No, not the slightest. I’ve sworn off for six months, and that ends the matter. Of course, I have no more desire for a glass of liquor than I have to fly to the moon,–one is a moral, and the other a physical impossibility; and, therefore, are dismissed from my thoughts.”

“What do you mean by a moral impossibility?”

“I have taken an oath not to drink for six months, and the violation of that oath is, for one of my views and feelings, a moral impossibility.”

“Exactly. There are three months yet to run, you say. After that, I hope to have the pleasure of taking a glass of wine with you in honour of your restoration to a state of freedom.”

“You shall have that pleasure, Watson, if it will really be one–” was Barclay’s reply, as the two young men parted.

Time wore on, and John Barclay, besides continuing perfectly sober, gave constant attention to business. So complete a change in him gave confidence to the parents and friends of Helen Weston, who made no opposition to his wish for an early marriage. It was fixed to take place on the evening of the very day upon which his temporary pledge was to expire.

To the expiration of this pledge, Barclay had never ceased, from the moment it was taken, to look forward with a lively interest. Not that he felt a desire to drink. But he suffered himself to be worried with the idea that he was no longer a free man. The nearer the day came that was to terminate the period for which he had bound himself to abstinence, the more did his mind dwell upon it, and the more did he desire its approach. It was, likewise, to be his wedding-day, and for that reason, also, did he look eagerly forward. But it is doubtful whether the consummation of his marriage, or the expiration of his pledge, occupied most of his thoughts. The day so long looked for came at last.