"Why not?" he questioned wonderingly, and inclined to force his way. But she stood before him, and said, "Not as you are, Alfred; not as you are! You will be sorry! Come into my room." He obeyed her sullenly, and she, keeping tight hold of his arm, drew him into her little room, where he sank unsteadily upon her bed. There was no light in the room, and she made no attempt to light a candle for she felt that it would be greater shame to see him drunk than to know he was drunk and not look upon his face. But her suffering showed itself in her voice. All that she said was, "O Alfred, Alfred!" and sank upon her knees by the bedside, and hid her face in the clothes, sobbing quietly. In a blundering way he drew her to him; but even while she lay with her head upon his shoulder, she seemed to shrink from him and to be ashamed of him. "Are you making all this fuss because I've taken a glass too much to drink?" he asked. "There! be quiet, and I'll promise not to do so again." Promises were the easiest things in the world for him to make. Weak pliable natures such as his are continually building airy havens, in which they do painless penance for their faults. Before Lily could answer, the door was opened, and old Wheels entered with a light. He looked at the young man half sternly and half sadly. So significant in its rebuke was his look, that Alfred, glad of an opportunity of attacking somebody in his own defence, started to his feet in unreasoning anger. But, what with his passion and his condition, the words that came from his lips were not distinct; and old Wheels raised his hand with an action almost of horror, and exclaimed, "At such a time, at such a time! Are the sins of the father really visited upon the children?" Then, with a compassionate glance at Lily, he muttered, "I pray not, I pray not--for _her_ sake!" "What do you mean, grandfather?" cried Alfred. "Is it such an unheard-of thing for a man to come home an hour later than usual, that you should treat me as if I have committed a crime?" "Crime!" echoed the old man, looking steadily into Alfred's eyes. "God keep you free from it!" Whatever answer Alfred was prompted to give, it did not pass his white and trembling lips. But presently he mustered up a blustering courage, and cried in an injured tone, "I won't stand it; I'll go away this minute! Let me go, Lily! I'll get a bed somewhere else." He knew his power over her; and even in this moment of weakness, when he felt himself at such disadvantage, and so clearly in the wrong, he had the cunning of a weak mind, and used it. He smiled in selfish triumph as Lily's arms tightened round him. "He does not know, grandfather!" she said, in an imploring tone. "Don't speak harshly to him; he does not know."