, mother? You do me wrong. It is a mistake."

The lady shook her head:

"No, my son, it is true. A mother's eyes rarely deceive her. You took
wine too freely both at Mrs. Judson's and Mrs. Ingersoll's, and acted
so little like my gentlemanly, dignified son that my cheeks burned and
my heart ached with mortification. I saw in other eyes that looked at
you both pity and condemnation. Ah, my son! there was more of
bitterness in that for a mother's heart than you will ever comprehend."

Her voice broke into a sob.

"My dear, dear mother," returned the young man, exhibiting much
distress, "you and others exaggerated what you saw. I might have been a
trifle gay, and who is not after a glass or two of champagne? I was no
gayer than the rest. When young people get together, and one spurs
another on they are apt to grow a little wild. But to call high
spirits, even noisy high spirits, intoxication is unjust. You must not
be too hard on me, mother, nor let your care for your son lead you into
needless apprehensions. I am in no danger here. Set your heart at rest
on that score."

But this was impossible. Mrs. Whitford knew there was danger, and that
of the gravest character. Two years before, her son had come home from
college, where he had graduated with all the honors her heart could
desire, a pure, high-toned young man, possessing talents of no common
order. His father wished him to study law; and as his own inclinations
led in that direction, he went into the office of one of the best
practitioners in the city, and studied for his profession with the same
thoroughness that had distinguished him while in college. He had just
been admitted to the bar.

For the first year after his return home Mrs. Whitford saw nothing in
her son to awaken uneasiness. His cultivated tastes and love of
intellectual things held him above the enervating influences of the
social life into which he was becoming more and more drawn. Her first
feeling of uneasiness came when, at a large party given by one of her
most intimate friends, she heard his voice ring out suddenly in the
supper-room. Looking down the table, she saw him with a glass of
champagne in his hand, which he was flourishing about in rather an
excited way. There was a gay group of young girls around him, who
laughed merrily at the sport he made. Mrs. Whitford's pleasure was gone
for that evening. A shadow came down on the bright future of her son--a
future to which her heart had tu