“Cease thy tears,” said he, “and forgive; it is but that word, spoken by thee, that can send peace to my soul.  Yet what peace can I expect?  I have wronged thee!"-and the wretched man wept like a child.

New thoughts continually sprang into existence,—­the days of his youth, the bliss of home, and his present situation.  He felt disgraced;—­how should he redeem his character?

“O, that the grave would hide me,” continued Edward, “and that in death I might forget this crime!  But no!  I cannot forget it; it will cling to me through life, and the future—­”

He would have said more, but the strong emotions of his soul choked his utterance.

He arose and paced the room in agony of feeling which pen cannot describe.  Suddenly halting, he gazed steadfastly upon the face of his wife.  It was deadly pale, and a tear dimmed the usual lustre of her eye.

“Comfort thyself,” said he; “no further evil shall come upon thee.  It shall never be said you are a drunkard’s wife,—­no, no, no, never!”

“Let us, then, forget the past,” said Mrs. Dayton.

“What! forget those days when I had not tasted?  O, misery indeed, if I cannot retain their remembrance!” said Edward.

“Not so, Edward; we would remember those, but forget the evil that has befallen us,—­all will be well.”

“Do you-can you forgive?”

“God will forgive; and shall not I?”

“Then let this be a pledge of the future;” and, taking her hand in his, he said; “I resolve to walk in the path of right, and never more to wander, God being my witness and my strength.”

“’T is well thou hast pledged thyself,” said she; “but know thou the tempter is on every side.  Should the wine-cup touch thy lips, dash it aside, and proclaim yourself a pledged man.”

“I will!” was the response, and, taking a pen, he boldly placed his name to the following pledge: 

“Pledge.-We pledge ourselves to abstain from the use of all intoxicating drinks, except the moderate use of wine, beer and cider.”

Such was the pledge to which he affixed his name, and such the pledge by which men of those days endeavored to stay the tide of intemperance.  Did not every man who signed that pledge himself to become a moderate drinker; and is not every moderate drinker pledged to become a drunkard?  What a pledge!  Yet we should not blame the men of former years for pursuing a course which they conscientiously thought to be right.  That was the first step.  It was well as far as it led; but it paused at the threshold of the ark of safety, and there its disciples fell.  They had not seen, as have men of late years, the ruinous tendency of such a course; and knew not, as we now do, that total abstinence is the only sure course.

The pledge Edward had signed was no preventive in his case.  He had tasted; in fact, he had become a lover of strong drink; and the temptation of having it constantly beside him, and daily dealing it out to others, was too strong for him to resist.  When he drank, he did think, as Emily had bade him, that he was a pledged man; but that pledge permitted him to drink wine.  The remedy such a pledge applied was of no avail.  It failed to reach the fountain-head, and strove to stop the stream by placing slight resistances in its way.