"I made no answer, but prepared to accompany him, with a heavy heart; for I felt certain, in my own mind, of the result, at least to some extent, of that evening's visit. I need not enter into particulars; suffice it to say, that Henry Leslie bravely withstood all solicitations, from our sex, to partake of the destroying beverage, and I was beginning to hope that my fears would prove unfounded, when the daughter of our hostess, the young lady to whom I before alluded, approached him with a glass of sparkling wine in her hand. She was beautiful,--I cannot but acknowledge that,--and I shall never forget her appearance as she stood there, a fascinating smile lighting up her animated countenance, and, in her sweetest tones, begged him to take a glass of wine with her. I thought of Satan, disguised as an angel of light, and trembled for the result, as I stood anxiously listening for his answer. It came in the negative, but the hesitating, half-apologetic tone was very different from the firm and decided one, in which he had resisted all other solicitations. But she was not yet satisfied. Womanly vanity must triumph, no matter how dearly the victory may be purchased. "'You surely will not be so ungallant as to refuse a lady so small a favor,'--and her eyes added, as plainly as words,--'but much less can you refuse me.' "'You see how society is degenerating, Mr. Bernard,' she said, turning to me, 'there was a time when a lady's request was deemed sacred, now we poor women have little or no influence over your sex.' "'I devoutly wish you had less, Madam,' was my uncourteous reply; but she scarcely heard me, for Henry, taking the proffered glass, and in a low tone, murmuring, 'For your sake alone,' quaffed its contents. A flush of gratified vanity passed over the lady's countenance, for she had laid a challenge with some of her friends, who had observed his previous abstinence, that she would make him drink a glass of wine with her, before the evening was over. That night week I sat, a lonely watcher, by the corpse of Henry Leslie. He had died in the horrors of delirium tremens, and his last cry had been for brandy. "Oh, it stings me almost to madness," exclaimed Arthur, rising and pacing the apartment with hurried steps, "when I reflect that that woman, knowing well his fatal propensity,--knowing, too, how powerful was her influence over him, for, poor fellow, I believe he would have laid down his life for her sake, was the immediate instrument of leading to destruction one who might,--had she encouraged him in his resolution to abstain, instead of luring him to depart from it,--have been an honored ornament to society, not filling, as he does to-day, a drunkard's grave, 'unhonored and unsung.'" There was silence for a few moments in the apartment, for even the volatile Ella seemed affected at the narration. At length she spoke in a subdued tone.