“Scarce had the last strains died away, when through the crowded aisles, passing the very seat we occupied, some one pressed forward with trembling eagerness. At first I did not recognize him—but uncle started and made way for him to the table in front of the speaker’s seat. A confused murmur of voices ran through the room, as one and another saw him grasp the printed pledge which was lying there, with the eagerness of a dying man. The first name subscribed to the solemn promise of total abstinence that night was James Hall. When it was announced by my uncle himself, whose voice was fairly tremulous with pleasure, the effect was electrical. The whole assembly rose, and the room rang with three cheers from stentorian voices. All order was at an end. Men of all classes and conditions pressed forward to take him by the hand, and more names were affixed to the pledge that night than any one could have counted on. “It was a proud tribute paid to woman’s influence, when James Hall grasping the hand of the speaker ejaculated—‘Oh! it was the picture you drew of what my poor wife has suffered. Heaven bless her! she has been an angel to me—poor wretch that I am.’ “My aunt’s first impulse was to fly to Mrs. Hall with the good news, but ‘let him be the bearer of the glad tidings himself,’ she said afterward. ‘We will offer our congratulations to-morrow.’ And never were congratulations more sincerely received than by that pale invalid, trembling even yet with the fear that her great happiness was not real.” “Oh! very well,” broke in Mrs. Bradford. “Quite a scene, my dear; you should have been a novelist. But did he keep it?—_that’s_ the thing.” “You would not ask, my dear madam,” answered Isabel, “if you could have witnessed another ‘scene,’ as you term it, in which Mrs. Hall was an actor. “There is a pretty little cottage standing at the very foot of the lane which leads to my uncle’s house. This has been built since that memorable evening by Mr. Hall, now considered the best workman, and one of the most respected men in Milton; and it was furnished by his wife’s industry. Her health was restored as if by a miracle; it was indeed such, but wrought by the returned industry, self-respect, and devotion of her husband. My aunt and myself were her guests only a few months ago, the evening of her removal to her new home. “We entered before her little preparations were quite finished, and found Mrs. Hall arranging some light window curtains for the prettily furnished parlor, while a fine curly-haired, blue-eyed little fellow was rolling on the carpet at her feet. She was still pale, and will never be strong again, but a happier wife and mother this world cannot contain. Her reward has been equal to her great self-sacrifice, and not only this, but the example of her husband has reformed many of his old associates, who at first jeered at him when he refused to join them. There is not a bar now in all Milton, for one cannot be supported.”