Saved as by Fire! CHAPTER 21.
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Mr. Granger's law business, which had grown rapidly, was already giving him a handsome income, and his family was again living in a style of comparative elegance. His daughter Amy had developed into a rarely attractive maiden, and was greatly beloved and admired in the circles where she moved. Her quiet grace and dignity, were in marked contrast with the free and jaunty manners seen in too many of our young girls, and lifted her above them, in the estimation of all who held the gender in any high regard. There were those who sought to win her favor, but as most of the young men whom she happened to meet in society, took part in its drinking customs, she kept herself on guard against their advances and held them at a safe distance. The shadows which alcoholism had thrown over her early life, rested too deeply on her spirits to be wholly removed; and the pain and humiliation they had occasioned, were things that could never be forgotten. To see a glass of wine at the lips of a young man — was to lift between himself and her, an impassable barrier. She might esteem him as a friend; but she locked the door of her heart against him. If, as happened more than once, a warmer sentiment than friendship had commenced forming — she smothered it out with a quick and resolute hand, on discovering the fatal impediment.
But love steals in by unguarded ways, and when once within the citadel of the heart, holds to his advantage, and makes vigorous resistance, should an attempt be made to cast him out. It so happened that a young man named Pickering found favor with Amy, and that almost before she was aware of her danger — the citadel of her heart had been taken. Handsome in person, pure in life, and true and manly in his character, Henry Pickering was entirely worthy of the love which she was not able to keep from revealing itself in her eyes.
A few months after their more intimate acquaintance, and when the young man's attitude towards Amy left but little doubt as to his feelings and intentions, they met at an evening entertainment, where liberal refreshments were served. A sudden chill and suspense fell upon the maiden's heart, as, with her hand on Pickering's arm, she began moving towards the supper-room; for the clink of glasses and popping of corks, could already be heard. She had never until now, met this young man at an evening party; nor had anything occurred in their fellowship so far, which gave her any intimation of his attitude towards the too prevalent drinking customs of society. In all her fellowship with him, she had not seen the smallest indication of any indulgence in wine or intoxicating drinks, and there had come to be with her, a tacit and fond belief that he was one of those who kept himself entirely free from their use.
But now the hour of trial and proof had come, and as they entered the supper-room, Amy's breathing became constricted, and her heart beat with heavy, almost suffocating throbs. She took her place a little back from the table, which was liberally supplied with glasses and bottles of wine, and waited for her attendant to bring her some of the refreshments that were being served. This was speedily done. As Pickering handed her the plate which he had filled, he said: "Will you have a glass of champagne, or some sherry?"
"Thank you — no wine for me," replied Amy, with something in her voice that caused the young man to look at her a little curiously.
"You would not have me drink alone?" he said.
"I would not have you drink at all," she answered, a low thrill of feeling in her otherwise steady voice.
Pickering's eyes rested on hers for a moment or two, after which he turned from her slowly, going to the table and filling another plate with salad and oysters. Then he came back to his place by her side; but, as they stood eating, they were turned a little away from each other. The young man, who had been a resident of the city for only a year or two, knew nothing at this time of Mr. Granger's history.
It soon became evident to Pickering that his companion was only making a pretense of eating.
"Let me get you something else," said he. "This isn't to your taste. What shall it be?"
But she replied, as she handed him her plate: "Nothing more, I thank you."
He was looking lull into her face now, and saw with concern that her eyebrows were slightly drawn, and the color diminished.
"Are you not feeling well? The room is very warm. Let me bring you some ice?"
But she declined anything more, and promptly accepted the young man's invitation to return to the parlor, where they took a seat near one of the windows through which the fresh, cool air was coming. The whole manner of the girl, as well as the expression of her face, had changed; and Pickering was troubled and at a loss to know the meaning of this change which had come so suddenly.
"I'm afraid you are ill," he said.
"Oh, no, no," Amy replied, endeavoring to rally herself. She was too truthful for any subterfuge.
"If not ill, then something has gone wrong, Miss Granger; and I am concerned to know what it is. Have I done anything to disturb or offend you?"
Amy's eyes, which had been on his face, dropped to the floor, and she made no answer. The young man's thought turned back hurriedly, and went over the brief incidents of the supper-room. Was it the offer of a glass of wine? He would know, and at once put the question: "Do you object to wine?"
"It is a dangerous thing," she replied.
"If carried to excess; but not when used in moderation."
"If never used in moderation — excess is impossible. No man is safe — but he who lets it alone."
She spoke in a low, steady voice, in which the young man noticed the same thrill of feeling which was in it when she answered him in the supper room, "I would not have you drink at all."
"Why, Miss Granger!" Pickering exclaimed, trying to make light of the matter, "I didn't know before, that you were a little temperance enthusiast."
"It is not with me, a matter of enthusiasm," she replied, speaking soberly, "but of deep feeling and settled principle."
"Oh! I was not aware of this before. If I had known it, I would not have committed the rudeness of offering you wine; and I crave pardon for my unfortunate blunder. You are, then, an advocate of entire abstinence."
"Where the use of a useless thing is attended with such awful perils as attend the use of wine — is not he the wise man, who lets it alone?"
"I will not say no, Miss Granger. But your proposition is very sweeping. I might take issue with you on the word 'useless,' but am in no way inclined to do so just now. Drunkenness is, I am well aware, the great curse of our land."
"And no one who uses intoxicating drinks of any kind, whether moderately or not, is safe from this curse," said Amy.
"I would be sorry to believe that, Miss Granger. I know of a great many men who take their wine or beer every day; but I do not think them in any danger."
"Not one of them?" Her voice was quiet, but firm.
"All men are not strong alike, nor given to moderation. Some are inclined to excess in everything. There is always danger with such."
"And danger with all who use an article which invites to excess, the very moment you take it. It is here, Mr. Pickering, that the great peril lies. No man is safe who admits anenemy within his fortress; and alcohol is always an enemy."
"We were speaking of wine, not ardent spirits," said the young man.
But Miss Granger was better informed than he had supposed.
"What we call wine is, for the most part, only diluted, drugged and flavored alcohol. Without the character and quality given by alcohol, few would care to drink it. It takes morewine than brandy to give the required exhilaration; that is all."
"You are informed on this subject, Miss Granger," said Pickering, his brows arching slightly, and his voice betraying some annoyance.
"Where such grave results attend the use of an article, is it not well to examine carefully the ground of its claim upon our confidence?"
There was no excitement in Amy's manner; yet it did not escape the young man's observation that, hidden beneath her quiet exterior, was a great deal of repressed feeling.
"But the novel thing to me is, the fact that a young lady like yourself should be posted on the subject of making and flavoring wines," returned Pickering, rising into an air of banter. "According to your view of the case, wine-drinking is only another name for whiskey-drinking."
"If," replied Amy, not moved from her serious attitude, "the drink we call wine is acceptable as a beverage because of the temporary exhilaration its alcohol produces, may it not be true that wine-drinking is, as you say, another name for whiskey-drinking?"
"But is it, as you allege, Miss Granger, that alcohol gives to wine its chief acceptable quality? I have never studied the subject; but it seems to me that you must be in some degree of error."
"I have been in the way of hearing a great deal about these matters, and from those who have conducted their investigations with great care," said Amy, "and I am just as certain, as I am of any other declared result of chemical test and analysis, that wine contains so large a proportion of alcohol, as to make its use exceedingly dangerous."
"What proportion?" asked Pickering. His manner had become more serious.
"I have heard it variously stated," was replied; "the percentage running from seven or eight — to twenty-five or six."
"So large? I wonder how much alcohol whiskey or brandy contains? You are, no doubt, informed as to that also."
"From forty to sixty percent, I am told."
"Then, if I drink two or three glasses of wine, I get about as much alcohol as if I took a single glass of whiskey or brandy?"
"The danger is that such will be the case."
The young man sat with a thoughtful air for a few moments, and then looking up, said, with a forced levity of manner: "This is almost comical, Miss Granger."
"What?" inquired his companion, her clear eyes fixed steadily on him.
"Free-and-easy drinking in the dining-room — and a temperance lecture in the parlor," he replied, with a smile breaking into his handsome countenance.
Before Amy could reply, the sound of laughing voices was heard at the parlor doors, and half a dozen girls and young men came in from the hall and dining-room, in gayer spirits than when they went to the refreshment-tables half an hour before. As one and another returned to the parlor, it was noticeable that a change had come over their spirits. Many of the young girls laughed and talked in louder tones, and were freer in their manners than before; sometimes to a degree that was unmaidenly; while the conduct of some of the young men was offensive to good taste for its rudeness or folly.
"When the wine is in — the wit is out," said Pickering, as, rising, he offered his arm to Amy, and they moved down the parlor and mingled with the company, adding, as they gained the lower end of the room, "We might call this, the application to your little sermon."
"And the oftener the wine goes in — will the wit go out," returned his companion, speaking for his ear alone, "until in the end it may come to stay out altogether."
"I see how it is, Miss Granger," said the young man. "Your thought has a habit of running to the last result of things."
"Is not that wisest?" she asked.
"Doubtless. But the surprise with me is, that a young lady should have such radical views on the subject of drinking. You are in no danger. Nor are these young ladies, for all the wine they get at parties. A little lightness in the head, as you see now — then a night's sleep, and all will be over."
"But what of the young men, their companions?" asked Amy.
Pickering gave a slight shrug.
"Will it be all over, as you say, with them? Will the appetite be no stronger — and the power to resist its enticements, no weaker?"
"I was speaking of the young ladies, and the danger to them," said Pickering.
"Is no one hurt by alcoholism, but the men who are its victims?" inquired the girl. "If I am not at fault in my observation, there are to be found among them — sons, brothers, husbands and fathers. Have women no relation to these men? In their wounding, is there no hurt to the sisters and daughters, to the wives and the mothers?"
Pickering felt again the old thrill in Amy's calm but earnest voice.
"If a young or middle-aged man should go home from here tonight the worse for the wine he has taken," she added, after a slight pause, "will there be no shame or sorrow in any woman's heart because of it?"
His ear caught the sound of a faint sigh which followed the closing words that fell from his companion's lips.
"We won't talk about this any more," he said. "The theme is too somber for so mirthful and festive an occasion." He spoke with some decision of manner. "And now," he added, in a lighter voice, "let us try a little nonsense, by way of a restorative."
Amy had already said far more than it was in her thought or purpose to say at the outset, and was very willing to let the subject drop, even though far from being satisfied with the young man's utterances on the question, which, if his views were not in accord with hers, must stand as an impassable barrier between them. One thing she had long ago settled in her mind, and that was — never to give her hand in marriage to one who did not wholly abstain from the use of alcohol in any of its forms. She would take no risks here. The danger, in her view, was too appalling. Her answer to the question: "How shall I be saved from the curse of alcohol?" was simple and direct. She would neither touch it herself in any of its covert or enticing forms — nor place her happiness in the keeping of one who did.
At the next meeting of the lovers, for so we must call them, though the young man had not yet made a formal declaration of his sentiments — each felt that a barrier had risen between them. In the meantime, Pickering had, in response to some inquiries about Miss Granger's family, learned something of its painful history, and of the sufferings and humiliation through which the girl had passed. This made clear the ground of her prejudice against wine-drinking. I say "prejudice," using the word as Pickering used it at the time. One thing was plain to him; he saw that there would be little hope of compromise with Amy, in regard to the use of intoxicating liquor in any of its forms. If he were not prepared to stand on her ground, so far as this question was concerned — he could hardly hope to stand with her at all.
It was this conviction in the mind of Pickering, and the doubts and uncertainties as to his real attitude in regard to the use of alcoholic drinks, which troubled Miss Granger — which raised the barrier too plainly visible to each on their next meeting. Both studiously avoided any reference to the subject, though it was never absent a moment from the thoughts of either. For the first time since their more intimate acquaintance, Amy made an effort to hold herself away, and even to close her heart against him. Her reserve was so apparent that it hurt, then piqued, and then partially offended the young man.
"If love," he said to himself, "has no deeper foundation than this, is it worth the name? Is the taking or refusing of a glass of wine — to be the test of its quality? The love that I want, is a love which can take me for what I am, and trust me all in all; and if she cannot do this, it might as well be at an end between us. To subject myself to any humiliating pledges and restrictions, is simply impossible. I hold my manly freedom too high for that."
An evening of embarrassed fellowship, followed by a cold parting, was the result. They did not meet again for over a week, during which time Amy had striven hard, but vainly, to keep the thought of Pickering out of her mind. With him the effort to banish her image had been no more successful; and as day after day went by without seeing her, tenderness grew in his heart, and the conviction became stronger and stronger that for him, life would be nothing if not shared with her. Taking all things into consideration, he was beginning to feel more sympathy with the girl in her extreme views. "It is but natural," he said, "for a burnt child to dread the fire. All that she has seen and suffered, must be set down in her favor."
A week of enforced absence was all that Pickering could endure; and when he met the sweet young girl again, the ardor of his feelings was too strong for repression. Love looked out from his eyes more tenderly than ever, and betrayed itself more nearly on his tongue. As for Amy, the gladness of heart which she could not repress, overflowed and revealed itself in her blushing face. Before they parted on that evening, the lover had spoken, and the maiden, while not consenting in words, had left him in no doubt as to the real state of her feelings.
Not the remotest reference was made to the subject which had, only a little while before, come in between them with its warning shadow and its separating wall. Was it forgottenby either of them? Not so. But their hearts held it away from any present influence. Love's fruition was for the moment, too full for the intrusion of any remote questions of prudence. For love's sake, all light impediments must disappear, when the time came for their consideration.
So they felt; but with each the feeling of confidence had its ground in the imagined concession of the other. If Henry Pickering really loved her — would he hesitate in a matter which she held to be of such vital importance? So the maiden thought, and took the sweet assurance to her heart.
"Amy loves me too well to let a mere prejudice or fancy stand between us," said the young man, confidently, to himself.
But they erred in their conclusions. When the young man pressed a closer suit, Amy referred him to her father, and Pickering found that there would be no consent with either, unless the question of his attitude to the drinking customs of society, was clearly settled.
"Neither myself nor my daughter," said Mr. Granger, "can afford to run so great a risk as is here involved. For myself, I would rather see my child with the angels." He betrayed considerable emotion.
"I must infer from all this," said Pickering, unable entirely to conceal his disappointment and irritation, "that you think me in special danger."
"No; only in the danger that comes to all who walk in dangerous ways," was the seriously-spoken reply. "If we know that robbers lie in wait along a certain road, what immunity from attack have we, if we travel that road?"
"Shall we be cowards, then? or, like brave men, fight our way through?"
"If we have no business that requires us to go by that road, we put our courage to a useless test," replied Mr. Granger. "This way of drinking, my young friend, is not an orderly appointed way in life. It leads to no desirable result; has no goal of fortune, or honor, or happiness. Those who walk in it, are not exposed to the assaults of robbers alone, who waste and plunder their substance, but fatal diseases lie along the marshes through which it often winds. It has pitfalls in many of its smoothest places, and steep precipices to which the road clings treacherously. If a man proposes to go in this way, it is better that he should go alone, Mr. Pickering. Love, surely, will not expose its object, needlessly, to dangers like these."
"Frankly, Mr. Granger, I see more of exaggeration in all this, than a statement of what the real danger is," said Pickering.
The irritation that betrayed itself in his manner a little while before, was all gone; and though his speech was plain, it was not in the least disrespectful.
"The direful effects that too surely attend on excessive drinking, can scarcely be exaggerated by any figures of speech that our language is capable of forming," answered Mr. Granger. "I am many years older than you, and have seen deeper into this evil of alcoholism than it is possible for you to have seen; and such is my dread of its subtle power,that I never see a man with a glass of intoxicating liquor in his hand, that I do not feel like uttering a cry of warning. Depend upon it, Mr. Pickering, there is no safe way for a young man, as he makes his entry into this world's busy, exciting and, in too many cases, exhausting arena — but that of complete abstinence from beverages in which alcohol is found."
"It certainly has its good as well as its evil effects," said the young man. "Used in moderation, it serves as a restorative in some cases, and as a tonic and vitalizer in many others. And in certain forms of disease, it is almost a remedy — at least, I have so understood."
"I scarcely think you have studied this subject in the light of more recent investigations and experiences," remarked Mr. Granger.
"In truth, I have not studied it at all. But there are facts which are commonly known and accepted, and these scarcely warrant the complete banishment to which our extreme temperance advocates would subject all kinds of liquor, not excepting beer and the lighter wines."
"There are many inferences, and loose sayings, and unproved assertions in regard to the beneficial effects of alcohol on the human body, as well in health as in sickness," was replied, "but one after another, they are being disproved, until the substance called alcohol has, by the ablest chemists and pathologists, with only an exception here and there, been set over to the side of poisons. It has no nutritive value whatever; and its disturbing and disorganizing effects have become so well known in the medical profession, that even the small number of intelligent physicians who hold to its administration in certain cases, the range of which grows narrower every day, are giving it with great caution and in very small doses."
"Is this really so?" asked the young man, showing some surprise.
"It is just as I have said," replied Mr. Granger. "This whole subject is receiving the most careful attention from the best medical experts; and the day of guess work and loose generalization is over. Nothing will now do for prudent men, but rigid analysis and clearly-established fact. Let me urge upon you, in the outset of life, to give this question of thetrue effect of alcohol on the human system, an impartial examination; to challenge a substance that works such fearful havoc among men, and require it to answer in no uncertain speech. If it is a friend of the people, there will be no difficulty in establishing the fact; if an enemy, the case can be made equally clear."
"Thank you for the suggestion, Mr. Granger," said the young man. "There is reason in what you say. I will look into this matter more carefully, and if I find it as you allege, I shall not hesitate about my future attitude."
"If you will come and see us tomorrow evening, I think you will be likely to hear a discussion on this subject that will interest you. A few friends are coming in, among whom will be a Dr. Gilbert, from New York, who has given the subject of inebriation and the action of alcoholic stimulants on the human body, a careful study for many years. He is no temperance enthusiast, as the people are too much inclined to call such men as I am, but a cool-headed observer, who will be satisfied with nothing in relation to this subject, which the most perfect methods of chemical analysis and physiological investigation have not settled. You will be impressed with him as a man who knows what he speaks about."
"Thank you, Mr. Granger. I shall certainly avail myself of the opportunity. It is clear seeing which makes right action. But to act where the judgment is not convinced, is never wise. And this is the cause of my hesitation now. I might promise you that I would never take wine or brandy; but if I did not think it wrong, for some clearly seen reason, to use these articles — my promise would ever after be an annoying impediment, and might be broken. But if my promise rests on principle; if I abstain from prudence and judgment; my attitude towards the drinking customs of society will express my true sentiments, and I shall stand firm on the solid ground of my convictions."
"Which will be far better," returned Mr. Granger.
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