s, conscious that something was out
of accord. Then he remembered his conversation with Dr. Hillhouse a
little while before, and felt an instant regret. He had noted the
manner of Whitford as he drank, and the manner of Blanche as she put
the wine to her lips. In the one case was an enjoyable eagerness, and
in the other constraint. Something in the expression of the girl's face
haunted and troubled him a long time afterward.

"Our young friend is getting rather gay," said Dr. Hillhouse to Mr.
Elliott, half an hour afterward. He referred to Ellis Whitford, who was
talking and laughing in a way that to some seemed a little too loud and
boisterous. "I'm afraid for him," he added.

"Ah, yes! I remember what you were saying about his two grandfathers,"
returned the clergyman. "And you really think he may inherit something
from them?"

"Don't you?" asked the doctor.

"Well, yes, of course. But I mean an inordinate desire for drink, a
craving that makes indulgence perilous?"

"Yes; that is just what I do believe."

"If that be so, the case is a serious one. In taking wine with him a
short time ago I noticed a certain enjoyable eagerness as he held the
glass to his lips not often observed in our young men."

"You drank with him?" queried the doctor.

"Yes. He and Blanche Birtwell have recently become engaged, and I took
some wine with them in compliment."

The doctor, instead of replying, became silent and thoughtful, and Mr.
Elliott moved away among the crowd of guests.

"I am really sorry for Mrs. Whitford," said a lady with whom he soon
became engaged in conversation.

"Why so?" asked the clergyman, betraying surprise.

"What's the matter? No family trouble, I hope?"

"Very serious trouble I should call it were it my own," returned the
lady.

"I am pained to hear you speak so. What has occurred?"

"Haven't you noticed her son to-night? There! That was his laugh. He's
been drinking too much. I saw his mother looking at him a little while
ago with eyes so full of sorrow and suffering that it made my heart
ache."

"Oh, I hope it's nothing," replied Mr. Elliott. "Young men will become
a little gay on these occasions; we must expect that. All of them don't
bear wine alike. It's mortifying to Mrs. Whitford, of course, but she's
a stately woman, you know, and sensitive about proprieties."

Mr. Elliott did not wait for the lady's answer, but turned to address
another person who came forward at the moment to spe