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“And this is the reason why you think the pledge should not be perpetual?”

“It is. Why should there be an external restraint imposed upon a mere nonentity? It is absurd!”

“Granting, for the sake of argument, the view you take, in regard to the extirpation of the morbid desire, which, however, I cannot see to be true,” Mrs. Marshall said, endeavouring to seem unconcerned, notwithstanding the position assumed by her husband troubled her instinctively,–“it seems to me, that there still exists a good reason why the pledge should be perpetual.”

“What is that, Jane?”

“If a man has once been led off by a love of drink, when no previous habit had been formed, there exists, at least, the same danger again, if liquor be used;–and if it should possibly be true that the once formed desire, if subdued, is latent–not eradicated–the danger is quadrupled.”

“I do not see the force of what you say,” the husband replied. “To me, it seems, that the very fact that he had once fallen, and the remembrance of its sad consequences, would be a sure protection against another lapse from sobriety.”

“It may all be so,” Mrs. Marshall said, in a voice that conveyed a slight evidence of the sudden shadow that had fallen upon her heart. And then ensued a silence of more than a minute. The wife then remarked in an inquiring tone–

“Then, if I understand you rightly, you think that the pledge should be binding only for a limited time?”

“I do.”

“How long?”

“From one to two years. Two, at the farthest, would be sufficient, I am fully convinced, to restore any man, to the healthy tone of mind and body that he once possessed. And then, the recollection of the past would be an all-sufficient protection for the future.”

Seeing that the husband was confirming himself more and more in the dangerous position that he had assumed, Mrs. Marshall said no more. Painfully conscious was she, from a knowledge of his peculiar character, that, if the idea now floating in his mind should become fixed by a rational confirmation, it would lead to evil consequences. From that moment, she began eagerly to cast about in her mind for the means of setting him right,–means that should fully operate, without her apparent agency. But one way presented itself,–(argument, she was well aware, as far as it was possible for her to enter into it with him, would only set his mind the more earnestly in search of reason, to prove the correctness of his assumed positions,)–and that was to induce him to attend more frequently the temperance meetings, and listen to the addresses and experiences there given.

“Come, dear,” she said to him, after tea, a few evenings subsequent to the time Marshall had begun to urge his objections to the pledge. “I want you to go with me to-night to this great temperance meeting. Mr.–is going to make an address, and I wish to hear him very much.”

“It will be so crowded, Jane, that you will not have the least satisfaction,” objected her husband–“and, besides, the evening is very warm.”

“But I don’t mind that, Jonas. I am very anxious to hear Mr.–speak.”

“I am sorry, Jane,” Marshall said, after the silence of a few moments. “But I recollect, now, that I promised Mr. Patton to call down and see him this evening. There are to be a few friends there, and he wished me, particularly, to meet them.”

Poor Mrs. Marshall’s countenance fell at this, and the tears gathered in her eyes.

“So, then, you won’t go with me to the temperance meeting,” she said, in a disappointed tone.

“I should like to do so, Jane,” was the prevaricating reply, “but you see that it is out of my power, without breaking my promise, which you would not, of course, have me do.”

“O, no, of course not.”

“You can go, Jane. I will leave you at the door, and call for you when the meeting is out.”