"COME, Henry," said Blanche Armour to her brother, who had seemedunusually silent and thoughtful since tea time,--"I want you to readwhile I make this cap for ma."
"Excuse me, Blanche, if you please, I don't feel like readingto-night," the brother replied, shading his face both from the lightand the penetrating glance of his sister, as he spoke.
Blanche did not repeat the request, for it was a habit with hernever to urge her brother; nor, indeed, any one, to do a thing forwhich he seemed disinclined. She, therefore, took her work-basket,and sat down by the centre-table, without saying any thing farther,and commenced sewing. But she did not feel quite easy, for it wastoo apparent that Henry was disturbed about something. For severaldays he had seemed more than usually reserved and thoughtful. Now hewas gloomy as well as thoughtful. Of course, there was a cause forthis. And as this cause was hidden from Blanche, she could not butfeel troubled. Several times during the evening she attempted todraw him out into conversation, but he would reply to her inmonosyllables, and then fall back into his state of silentabstraction of mind. Once or twice he got up and walked across thefloor, and then again resumed his seat, as if he had compelledhimself to sit down by a strong effort of the will. Thus the timepassed away, until the usual hour of retiring for the night came,when Blanche put up her work, and rising from her chair by thecentre-table, went to Henry, and stooping down over him, as he layhalf reclined upon the sofa, kissed him tenderly, and murmured anaffectionate "good night."
"Good night, dear," he returned, without rising or adding anotherword.
Blanche lingered a moment, and then, with a repressed sigh, left theroom, and retired to her chamber. She could not understand herbrother's strange mood. For him to be troubled and silent wasaltogether new. And the cause? Why should he conceal it from her,toward whom, till now, he had never withheld any thing that gave himeither pleasure or pain?
The moment Blanche retired, the whole manner of Henry Armourchanged. He arose from the sofa and commenced walking the floor withrapid steps, while the deep lines upon his forehead and his stronglycompressed lips showed him to be labouring under some powerfulmental excitement. He continued to walk thus hurriedly backward andforward for the space of half an hour; when, as if some long debatedpoint had been at last decided, he grasped the parlour door with afirm hand, threw it open, took from the rack his hat, cloak, andcane, and in a few moments was in the street.
The jar of the street door, as it closed, was distinctly heard byBlanche, and this caused the troubled feeling which had oppressedher all the evening, to change into one of anxiety. Where couldHenry be going at this late hour? He rarely stayed out beyond teno'clock; and she had never before known him to leave the house afterthe usual bedtime of the family. His going out had, of course,something to do with his unhappy mood. What could it mean? She couldnot suspect him of any wrong. She knew him to be too pure-minded andhonourable. But there was mystery connected with his conduct--andthis troubled her. She had just laid aside a book, that she hadtaken up for the purpose of reading a few pages before retiring forthe night, and commenced disrobing herself, when the sound of thedoor closing after her brother startled her, and caused her to pauseand think. She could not now retire, for to sleep would beimpossible. She, therefore, drew a shawl about her, and againresumed her book, determined to sit up until Henry's return. Butlittle that she read made a very distinct impression on her mind.Her thoughts were with her brother, whom she tenderly loved, and hadlearned to confide in as one of pure sentiments and firm principles.
While Henry Armour still lingered at home in moody indecision ofmind, a small party of young men were assembled in an upper room ofa celebrated refectory, drinking, smoking, and indulging inconversation, a large portion of which would have shocked a modestear. They were all members of wealthy and respectable families. Somehad passed their majority, and others still lingered betweennineteen and twenty-one,--that dangerous age for a youngman--especially if he be so unfortunate as to have little to do, anda liberal supply of pocket money.
"Confound the fellow! What keeps him so long?" said one of thecompany, looking at his watch. "It's nearly ten o'clock, and he hasnot made his appearance."
"Whom do you mean? Armour?" asked another.
"Certainly I do. He promised to join us again to-night."
"So he did! But I'll bet a pewter sixpence he won't come."
"Why?"
"His sister won't let him. Don't you know that he is tied to herapron string almost every night, the silly fellow! Why don't he be aman, and enjoy life as it goes?"
"Sure enough! What is life worth, if its pleasures are all to besacrificed for a sister?" returned the other, sneeringly.
"Here! Pass that champagne," interrupted one of the company. "LetHarry Armour break his engagement for a sister if he likes. Thatneedn't mar our enjoyment. There are enough of us here for a regulargood time."
"Here's a toast," cried another, as he lifted a sparkling glass tohis lips--"Pleasant dreams to the old folks!"
"Good! Good! Good!" passed round the table, about which the youngrevellers were gathered, and each drained a glass to the wellunderstood sentiment.
In the mean time, young Armour had left his home, having decided atlast, and after a long struggle with himself, to join this gaycompany, as he had agreed to do. It was, in fact, a little club,formed a short time previous, the members of which met once a weekto eat, drink, smoke, and corrupt each other by ridiculing thosesalutary moral restraints which, once laid aside, leave thethoughtless youth in imminent danger of ruin.
Henry Armour had been blessed with a sister a year or two older thanhimself, who loved him tenderly. The more rapid development of hermind, as well as body, had given her the appearance of maturity thatenabled her to exercise a strong influence over him. Of the dangersthat beset the path of a young man, she knew little or nothing. Theconstant effort which she made to render home agreeable to herbrother by consulting his tastes, and entering into every thing thatseemed to give him pleasure, did not, therefore, spring from a wishto guard him from the world's allurements; it was the spontaneousresult of a pure fraternal affection. But it had the right effect.To him, there was no place like home; nor any smile so alluring, orvoice so sweet, as his sister's. And abroad, no company possessed aperfect charm, unless Blanche were one of its members.
This continued until Henry gained his twenty-second year, when, as alaw student, he found himself thrown more and more into the companyof young men of his own age, and the same standing in society. Anoccasional ride out with one and another of these, at which times anhour at least was always spent in a public house, opened to him newscenes in life, and for a young man of lively, buoyant mind, notaltogether unattractive. That there was danger in these paths he didnot attempt to disguise from himself. More than one, or two, orthree, whom he met on almost every visit he made to a fashionableresort for young men, about five miles from the city, showed toostrong indications of having passed beyond the bounds ofself-control, as well in their use of wines and stronger drinks asin their conduct, which was too free from those external decentrestraints that we look for even in men who make no pretensions tovirtue. But he did not fear for himself. The exhibitions which thesemade of themselves instinctively disgusted him. Still, he did notperceive that he was less and less shocked at some things he beheld,and more than at first inclined to laugh at follies which verged toonearly upon moral delinquencies.
Gradually his circle of acquaintance with young men of the gay classextended, and a freer participation with them in many of theirpleasures came as a natural consequence.
"Come," said one of them to him, as the two met in the street, byaccident, one evening,--"I want you to go with me."
"But why should I go with you? Or, rather, where are you going?"asked Armour.
"To meet some of our friends down at C--'s," replied the youngman.
"What are you going to do there?" farther inquired Armour.
"Nothing more than to drink a glass of wine, and have some pleasantchit-chat. So come along."
"Will I be welcome?"
"Certainly you will. I'll guarantee that. Some half dozen of us haveformed a little club, and each member has the privilege of invitingany one he pleases. To-night I invite you, and on the next evening Iexpect to see you present, not as a guest, but as a member. So comealong, and see how you like us."
Armour had no definite object in view. He had walked out, because hefelt rather listless at home, Blanche having retired with a sickheadache. It required, therefore, no persuasion to induce him toyield to the friend's invitation. Arrived at C--'s, a fashionablehouse of refreshment, the two young men passed up stairs and enteredone of the private apartments of the house, which they foundhandsomely furnished and brilliantly lighted. In this, gatheredaround a circular, or rather oblong table, were five or six youngmen, nearly all of them well known to Armour. On the table werebottles of wine and glasses--the latter filled.
"Just in time!" cried the president of the club. "Henry Armour, Ibid you welcome! Here's a place waiting for you," placing his handupon a chair by his side as he spoke. "And now," as Armour seatedhimself, "let me fill your glass. We were waiting for a sentiment tofind its way out of some brain as you came in, and our brimmingglasses had stood untasted for more than a minute. Can't you help usto a toast?"
"Here's to good fellowship!" said Armour, promptly lifting hisglass, and touching it to that of the president.
"To be drunk standing," added the president.
All rose on the instant, and drank with mock solemnity to thesentiment of their guest.
Then followed brilliant flashes of wit, or what was thought to bewit. To these succeeded the song, the jest, the story,--and to theseagain the sparkling wine-cup. Gayly thus passed the hours, untilmidnight stole quietly upon the thoughtless revellers. Surprised, onreference to his watch, to find that it was one o'clock, Armourarose and begged to be excused.
"I move that our guest be excused on one condition," said the friendwho had brought him to the company. "And that is, on his promise tomeet with us again, on this evening next week."
"What do you think of the condition?" asked the president, who, likenearly all of the rest, was rather the worse for the wine he hadtaken, looking at Armour as he spoke.
"I agree to it with pleasure," was the prompt reply.
"Another drink before you go, then," said the president, "and I willgive the toast. Fill up your glasses."
The bottle again passed round the table.
"Here's to a good fellow!" was the sentiment announced. It wasreceived standing. Armour then retired with bewildered senses. Thegay scene that had floated before his eyes, and in which himself hadbeen an actor, and the freedom with which he had taken wine, lefthim confused, almost in regard to his own identity. He did not seemto himself the same person he had been a few hours before. A newworld had opened before him, and he had, almost involuntarily,entered into, and become a citizen of that world. Long after he hadreached his home, and retired to his bed, did his imagination revelamid the scenes he had just left. In sleep, too, fancy was busy. Buthere came a change. Serpents would too often glide across the tablearound which the gay company, himself a member, were assembled; orsome other sudden and more appalling change scatter into fragmentsthe bright phantasma of his dreams.
The sober morning found him in a soberer mood. Calm, cold,unimpassioned reflection came. What had he been doing? What path hadhe entered; and whither did it lead? These were questions that wouldintrude themselves, and clamour for an answer. He shut his eyes andendeavoured again to sleep. Waking thoughts were worse than the airyterrors which had visited him in sleep. At length he arose, withdull pains in his head, and an oppressive sluggishness of the wholebody. But more painful than his own reflections, or the physicalconsequences of the last night's irregularity, was the thought ofmeeting Blanche, and bearing the glance of her innocent eyes. Hefelt that he had been among the impure,--and worse, that he hadenjoyed their impure sentiments, and indulged with them in excess ofwine. The taint was upon him, and the pure mind of his sister mustinstinctively perceive it. These thoughts made him wretched. Hereally dreaded to meet her. But this could not be avoided.
"You do not look well, brother," said Blanche, almost as soon as shesaw him.
"I am not well," he replied, avoiding her steady look. "My headaches, and I feel dull and heavy."
"What has caused it, brother?" the affectionate girl asked, with alook and voice of real concern.
Now this was, of all others, the question that Henry was leastprepared to answer. He could not utter a direct falsehood. From thathis firm principles shrunk. Nor could he equivocate, for heconsidered equivocation little better than a direct falsehood. "Whyshould I wish to conceal any part of my conduct from her?" he askedhimself, in his dilemma. But the answer was instant and conclusive.His participation in the revelry of the last night was a thing notto be whispered in her ear. Not being prepared, then, to tell thetruth, and shrinking from falsehood and equivocation, Armourpreferred silence as the least evil of the three. The question ofBlanche was not, therefore, answered. At the breakfast-table, hisfather and mother remarked upon his appearance. To this, he merelyreplied that he was not well. As soon as the meal was over, he wentout, glad to escape the eye of Blanche, which, it seemed to him,rested searchingly upon him all the while.
A walk of half an hour in the fresh morning air dispelled the dullpain in his head, and restored his whole system to a more healthytone. This drove away, to some extent, the oppressive feeling ofself-condemnation he had indulged. The scenes of the previousevening, though silly enough for sensible young men to engage in,seemed less objectionable than they had appeared to him on his firstreview. To laugh involuntarily at several remembered jests andstories, the points of which were not exactly the most chaste orreverential, marked the change that a short period had produced inhis state of mind. During that day, he did not fall in with any ofhis wild companions of the last evening, too many of whom hadalready fairly entered the road to ruin. The evening was spent athome, in the society of Blanche. He read while she sewed, or heturned for her the leaves of her music book, or accompanied her uponthe flute while she played him a favourite air upon the piano.Conversation upon books, music, society, and other topics ofinterest, filled up the time not occupied in these mentalrecreations, and added zest, variety, and unflagging interest to thegently-passing hours. On the next evening they attended a concert,and on the next a party. On that succeeding, Henry went out to see afriend of a different character from any of those with whom he hadpassed the hours a few nights previous--a friend about his own age,of fixed habits and principles, who, like himself, was preparing forthe bar. With him he spent a more rational evening than with theothers, and, what was better, no sting was left behind.
Still, young Armour could never think of the "club" without havinghis mind thrown into a tumult. It awoke into activity opposingprinciples. Good and evil came in contact, and battled forsupremacy. There was in his mind a clear conviction that to indulgein dissipation of that character, would be injurious both to moraland physical health. And yet, having tasted of the delusive sweets,he was tempted to further indulgence. Meeting with some two or threeof the "members" during the week, and listening to their extravagantpraise of the "club," and the pleasure of uniting in unrestrainedsocial intercourse, made warm by generous wine, tended to make moreactive the contest going on within--for the good principles that hadbeen stored up in his mind were not to be easily silenced. Theirhold upon his character was deep. They had entered into its warp andwoof, and were not to be eradicated or silenced in a moment. As thetime for the next meeting of the club approached, this battle grewmore violent. The condition into which it had brought him by thearrival of the night on which he had promised again to join his gayfriends, the reader has already seen. He was still unable to decidehis course of action. Inclination prompted him to go; goodprinciples opposed. "But then I have passed my word that I would go,and my word must be inviolable." Here reason came in to the aid ofhis inclinations, and made in their favour a strong preponderance.
We have seen that, yet undecided, he lingered at home, but in astate of mind strangely different from any in which his sister hadever seen him. Still debating the question, he lay, half reclinedupon the sofa, when Blanche touched her innocent lips to his, andmurmured a tender good-night. That kiss passed through his framelike an electric current. It came just as his imagination hadpictured an impure image, and scattered it instantly. But nodecision of the question had yet been made, and the withdrawal ofBlanche only took off an external restraint from his feelings. Hequietly arose and commenced pacing the floor. This he continued forsome time. At last the decision was made.
"I have passed my word, and that ends it," said he, and instantlyleft the house. Without permitting himself to review the matteragain, although a voice within asked loudly to be heard, he walkedhastily in the direction of the club-room. In ten minutes he gainedthe door, opened it without pausing, and stood in the midst of thewild company within. His entrance was greeted with shouts ofwelcome, and the toast, "Here's to a good fellow!" with which he hadparted from them, was repeated on his return, all standing as it wasdrunk.
To this followed a sentiment that cannot be repeated here. It wastoo gross. All drunk to it but Armour. He could not, for it involveda foul slander upon the other sex, and he had a sister whose purekiss was yet warm upon his lips. The individual who proposed thetoast marked this omission, and pointed it out by saying--
"What's the matter, Harry? Is not the wine good?"
The colour mounted to the young man's face as he replied, with aforced smile--
"Yes, much better than the sentiment."
"What ails the sentiment?" asked the propounder of it, in a tone ofaffected surprise.
"I have a sister," was the brief, firm reply of Armour.
"So Charley, here, was just saying," retorted the other, with amerry laugh; "and, what is more, that he'd bet a sixpence you weretied to her apron-string, and would not be here to-night! Ha! ha!"
The effect of this upon the mind of Armour was decisive. He loved,nay, almost revered his sister.
She had been like an angel of innocence about his path from earlyyears. He knew her to be as pure as the mountain snow-flake. And yetthat sister's influence over him was sneered at by one who had justuttered a foul-mouthed slander upon her whole sex. The scales fellinstantly from his eyes. He saw the dangerous ground upon, which hestood; while the character of his associates appeared in a newlight. They were on a road that he did not wish to travel. Therewere serpents concealed amid the flowers that sprung along theirpath, and he shuddered as he thought of their poisonous fangs. Quickas a flash of light, these things passed through his mind, andcaused him to act with instant resolution. Rising from the chair hehad already taken, he retired, without a word, from the room. Asneering laugh followed him, but he either heard it not or gave itno heed.
The book which Blanche resumed after she had heard her brother goout, soon ceased to interest her. She was too much troubled abouthim to be able to fix her mind on any thing else. His singularlydisturbed state, and the fact of his having left the house at thatlate hour, caused her to feel great uneasiness. This was beginningto excite her imagination, and to cause her to fancy many reasonsfor his strange conduct, none of which were calculated in any degreeto allay the anxiety she felt. Anxiety was fast verging upon seriousalarm, when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching the house.She listened breathlessly. Surely it was the sound of Henry'sfootsteps! Yes! Yes! It was indeed her brother. The tears gushedfrom her eyes as she heard him enter below and pass up to hischamber. He was safe from harm, and for this her heart lifted itselfup in fervent thankfulness! How near he had been to falling, thatpure-minded maiden never knew, nor how it had been her image and theremembrance of her parting kiss that had saved him in the moment ofhis greatest danger. Happy he who is blest with such a sister! Andhappier still, if her innocence be suffered to overshadow him in thehours of temptation!
THE END.
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