“Not for my sake,—as you say I drove you into it last time? Not for your own sake? for nobody knows but ourselves, I dare say. I have never breathed it, and Mary——” “O, Mary has vexed me many a time,—taking such pains, and having so many reasons and excuses with the neighbours. Why,—do you suppose I never met anybody? And then there was the night that Mrs. Skipper, of all people in the world, gave me her arm. I was forced to take it, but——” “Mrs. Skipper! Really! She never breathed a word. Depend upon it, she never told any body.” “If she did not, I am sure I have told plenty of people myself: so don’t say any more about it, John.” “I was just going to say, that now is the time for trying. We are going to have better living, I hope, which is what you will want; and I am sure Mary and I do not care what there is for us, if we could see you recover. If you will only give us the word, we will watch and watch, night and day; and you shall have all manner of help, and comfort, and no more thoughts of cruel joking or of Mrs. Skipper. O, Margaret, try!” “I am almost sure I cannot,” muttered the poor woman; “but I will just try.” “Ah! do, and I should not wonder.—You talk of being at rest; and it may be a rest in this very room,—on that very bed,—such as you little thought of when you wished your wish.” Margaret shook her head. “If I go on, I die; if I leave off, I die; it is all one.” “No, Margaret, it is not all one; for I have one more thing to say,—and the chief thing. The children do not fully understand yet, though I have seen John wonder-struck lately, and his aunt could not put him off.” “Why should she?” “Just because neither she nor I choose that the children should grow used to see drunkenness before their eyes indifferently. I speak plain, because it is about those who cannot speak for themselves. Do you know now what I mean to say?” “Go on.” “I mean to say, (and to do it too,) that as often as I see you not yourself, I shall tell the children, not that their mother is ill, or low-spirited, or any thing else,—but what is really the case. Now, Margaret, how will you bear this? Remember I shall really do it, from this day.” Margaret made no answer. “You know I cannot let our children’s morals get corrupted at home, and them ruined for here and hereafter by such a habit as this. I cannot, Margaret.” “No; you cannot.” “I am sure they have enough against them, at the best,—what with poverty,(temptation and no proper instruction,) and sometimes idleness, and sometimes over-work. They have enough before them at the best.” “They have.” “And who have they to look to but you and me? except Mary, and she would not set against your example. It goes against my heart more than you know to say an unkind word to you, and always did, when I seemed cruel. But I can say what you will think cruel, and I must, unless you take my warning.” “You do not know——”