PAGE 4
The Ruined Family
by
“Can’t I do something for you?” inquired Ellen, with an earnest affection in her manner.
“No, dear,” was her mother’s brief response; and then followed a silence, oppressive to all, which remained unbroken until the tea things were removed.
“Alfred is again away at tea-time,” Mrs. Graham at length said, as they all arose from the table.
“He went out this afternoon with Charles Williams,” Mary replied.
“Did he?” the mother rejoined quickly, and with something of displeasure in her tone.
“Yes. Charles called for him in his buggy about four o’clock, and they rode out together. I thought you knew it.”
“No. I was lying down about that time.”
“You do not seem to like Charles Williams much.”
“I certainly do not, Anna, as a companion for Alfred. He is too fond of pleasure and sporting, and I am very much afraid will lead your brother astray.”
“I never saw anything wrong about him, Ma.”
“Perhaps not. But I have learned to be a much closer observer in these matters than you, Mary. I have seen too many young men at Alfred’s age led away, not to feel a deep and careful solicitude for him.”
As the subject seemed to give their mother pain, her daughters did not reply; and then another, and still more troubled silence followed.
A chill being thrown thus over the feelings of all, the family separated at an early hour. But Mrs. Graham did not retire to bed. She could not, for she was strangely uneasy about her son. It was about twelve o’clock when Alfred came in. His mother opened her door as he passed it, to speak to him–but her tongue refused to give utterance to the words that trembled upon it. He, too, was intoxicated!
Brief were the hours given to sleep that night, and troubled the slumber that locked her senses in forgetfulness. On the next morning, the trembling hand of her husband, as he lifted his cup to his lips, and the unrefreshed and jaded appearance of her son, told but too plainly their abuse of nature’s best energies. With her husband, Mrs. Graham could not bring herself to speak upon the subject. But she felt that her duty as a mother was involved in regard to her son, and therefore she early took occasion to draw him aside, and remonstrate against the course of folly upon which he was entering.
“You were out late last night, Alfred,” she said, in a mild tone.
“I was in at twelve, Ma.”
“But that was too late, Alfred.”
“I don’t know, Ma. Other young men are out as late, and even later, every night,” the young man said, in a respectful tone. “I rode out with Charles Williams in the afternoon, and then went with him to a wine party at night.”
“I must tell you frankly, Alfred, that I like neither your companion in the afternoon, nor your company in the evening.”
“You certainly do not object to Charles Williams. He stands as high in society as I do.”
“His family is one of respectability and standing. But his habits, I fear, Alfred, are such as will, ere long, destroy all of his title to respectful estimation.”
“You judge harshly,” the young man said, colouring deeply.
“I believe not, Alfred. And what is more, I am convinced that you stand in imminent danger from your association with him.”
“How?” was the quick interrogatory.
“Through him, for instance, you were induced to go to a wine party last night.”
“Well?”
“And there induced to drink too much.”
“Mother!”
“I saw you when you came in, Alfred. You were in a sad condition.”
For a few moments the young man looked his mother in the face, while an expression of grief and mortification passed over his own.
“It is true,” he at length said, in a subdued tone, “that I did drink to excess, last evening. But do not be alarmed on that account. I will be more guarded, in future. And let me now assure you, most earnestly, that I am in no danger: that I am not fond of wine. I was led to drink too much, last evening, from being in a company where wine was circulated as freely as water. I thought you looked troubled, this morning, but did not dream that it was on my account. Let me, then, urge you to banish from your mind all fears in regard to me.”