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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DANGER; OR, WOUNDED IN THE HOUSE OF A FRIEND ***
+
+
+
+
+DANGER;
+
+OR, WOUNDED IN THE HOUSE OF A FRIEND.
+
+BY T. S. ARTHUR,
+
+AUTHOR OF "THREE YEARS IN A MAN-TRAP," "CAST ADRIFT," "TEN NIGHTS IN
+A BAR-ROOM," ETC., ETC.
+
+PHILADELPHIA, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO, ST. LOUIS AND SAN FRANCISCO.
+
+1875
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+
+
+
+ALL efforts at eradicating evil must, to be successful, begin as
+near the beginning as possible. It is easier to destroy a weed when
+but an inch above the ground than after it has attained a rank
+growth and set its hundred rootlets in the soil. Better if the evil
+seed were not sown at all; better if the ground received only good
+seed into its fertile bosom. How much richer and sweeter the
+harvest!
+
+Bars and drinking-saloons are, in reality, not so much the causes as
+the effects of intemperance. The chief causes lie back of these, and
+are to be found in our homes. Bars and drinking-saloons minister to,
+stimulate and increase the appetite already formed, and give
+accelerated speed to those whose feet have begun to move along the
+road to ruin.
+
+In "THREE YEARS IN A MAN-TRAP" the author of this volume uncovered
+the terrible evils of the liquor traffic; in this, he goes deeper,
+and unveils the more hidden sources of that widespread ruin which is
+cursing our land. From the public licensed saloon, where liquor is
+sold to men--not to boys, except in violation of law--he turns to
+the private home saloon, where it is given away in unstinted measure
+to guests of both sexes and of all ages, and seeks to show in a
+series of swiftly-moving panoramic scenes the dreadful consequences
+that flow therefrom.
+
+This book is meant by the author to be a startling cry of "DANGER!"
+Different from "THE MAN-TRAP," as dealing with another aspect of the
+temperance question, its pictures are wholly unlike those presented
+in that book, but none the less vivid or intense. It is given as an
+argument against what is called the temperate use of liquor, and as
+an exhibition of the fearful disasters that flow from our social
+drinking customs. In making this argument and exhibition the author
+has given his best effort to the work.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+WOUNDED IN THE HOUSE OF A FRIEND.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+
+
+
+SNOW had been falling for more than three hours, the large flakes
+dropping silently through the still air until the earth was covered
+with an even carpet many inches in depth.
+
+It was past midnight. The air, which had been so still, was growing
+restless and beginning to whirl the snow into eddies and drive it
+about in an angry kind of way, whistling around sharp corners and
+rattling every loose sign and shutter upon which it could lay its
+invisible hands.
+
+In front of an elegant residence stood half a dozen carriages. The
+glare of light from hall and windows and the sound of music and
+dancing told of a festival within. The door opened, and a group of
+young girls, wrapped in shawls and waterproofs, came out and ran,
+merrily laughing, across the snow-covered pavement, and crowding
+into one of the carriages, were driven off at a rapid speed.
+Following them came a young man on whose lip and cheeks the downy
+beard had scarcely thrown a shadow. The strong light of the
+vestibule lamp fell upon a handsome face, but it wore an unnatural
+flush.
+
+There was an unsteadiness about his movements as he descended the
+marble steps, and he grasped the iron railing like one in danger of
+falling. A waiter who had followed him to the door stood looking at
+him with a half-pitying, half-amused expression on his face as he
+went off, staggering through the blinding drift.
+
+The storm was one of the fiercest of the season, and the air since
+midnight had become intensely cold. The snow fell no longer in soft
+and filmy flakes, but in small hard pellets that cut like sand and
+sifted in through every crack and crevice against which the wild
+winds drove it.
+
+The young man--boy, we might better say, for, he was only
+nineteen--moved off in the very teeth of this storm, the small
+granules of ice smiting him in the face and taking his breath. The
+wind set itself against him with wide obstructing arms, and he
+reeled, staggered and plunged forward or from side to side, in a
+sort of blind desperation.
+
+"Ugh!" he ejaculated, catching his breath and standing still as a
+fierce blast struck him. Then, shaking himself like one trying to
+cast aside an impediment, he moved forward with quicker steps, and
+kept onward, for a distance of two or three blocks. Here, in
+crossing a street, his foot struck against some obstruction which
+the snow had concealed, and he fell with his face downward. It took
+some time for him to struggle to his feet again, and then he seemed
+to be in a state of complete bewilderment, for he started along one
+street, going for a short distance, and then crossing back and going
+in an opposite direction. He was in no condition to get right after
+once going wrong. With every few steps he would stop and look up and
+down the street and at the houses on each side vainly trying to make
+out his locality.
+
+"Police!" he cried two or three times; but the faint, alarmed call
+reached no ear of nightly guardian. Then, with a shiver as the storm
+swept down upon him more angrily, he started forward again, going he
+knew not whither.
+
+The cold benumbed him; the snow choked and blinded him; fear and
+anxiety, so far as he was capable of feeling them, bewildered and
+oppressed him. A helmless ship in storm and darkness was in no more
+pitiable condition than this poor lad.
+
+On, on he went, falling sometimes, but struggling to his feet again
+and blindly moving forward. All at once he came out from the narrow
+rows of houses and stood on the edge of what seemed a great white
+field that stretched away level as a floor. Onward a few paces, and
+then--Alas for the waiting mother at home! She did not hear the cry
+of terror that cut the stormy air and lost itself in the louder
+shriek of the tempest as her son went over the treacherous line of
+snow and dropped, with a quick plunge, into the river, sinking
+instantly out of sight, for the tide was up and the ice broken and
+drifting close to the water's edge.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+
+
+
+"COME, Fanny," said Mr. Wilmer Voss, speaking to his wife, "you must
+get to bed. It is past twelve o'clock, and you cannot bear this loss
+of rest and sleep. It may throw you all back again."
+
+The woman addressed was sitting in a large easychair with a shawl
+drawn closely about her person. She had the pale, shrunken face and
+large, bright eyes of a confirmed invalid. Once very beautiful, she
+yet retained a sweetness of expression which gave a tenderness and
+charm to every wasted feature. You saw at a glance the cultured
+woman and the patient sufferer.
+
+As her husband spoke a fierce blast of wind drove the fine sand-like
+snow against the windows, and then went shrieking and roaring away
+over housetops, gables and chimneys.
+
+"Oh what a dreadful night!" said the lady, leaning forward in her
+chair and listening to the wild wail of the storm, while a look of
+anxiety, mingled with dread, swept across her face. "If Archie were
+only at home!"
+
+"Don't trouble yourself about Archie. He'll be here soon. You are
+not yourself to-night, Fanny."
+
+"Perhaps not; but I can't help it. I feel such an awful weight
+here;" and Mrs. Voss drew her hands against her bosom.
+
+"All nervous," said her husband. "Come! You must go to bed."
+
+"It will be of no use, Wilmer," returned the lady. "I will be worse
+in bed than sitting up. You don't know what a strange feeling has
+come over me. Oh, Archie, if you were only at home! Hark! What was
+that?"
+
+The pale face grew paler as Mrs. Voss bent forward in a listening
+attitude.
+
+"Only the wind," answered her husband, betraying some impatience. "A
+thousand strange sounds are on the air in a night like this. You
+must compose yourself, Fanny, or the worst consequences may follow."
+
+"It's impossible, husband. I cannot rest until I have my son safe
+and sound at home again. Dear, dear boy!"
+
+Mr. Voss urged no further. The shadow of fear which had come down
+upon his wife began to creep over his heart and fill it with a vague
+concern. And now a thought flashed into his mind that he would not
+have uttered for the world; but from that moment peace fled, and
+anxiety for his son grew into alarm as the time wore on and the boy
+did not come home.
+
+"Oh, my husband," cried Mrs. Voss, starting from her chair, and
+clasping her hands as she threw them upward, "I cannot bear this
+much longer. Hark! That was his voice! _'Mother!' 'Mother!'_ Don't
+you hear it?"
+
+Her face was white as the snow without, her eyes wild and eager, her
+lips apart, her head bent forward.
+
+A shuddering chill crept along the nerves of Mr. Voss.
+
+"Go, go quickly! Run! He may have fallen at the door!"
+
+Ere the last sentence was finished Mr. Voss was halfway down stairs.
+A blinding dash of snow came swirling into his face as he opened the
+street door. It was some moments before he could see with any
+distinctness. No human form was visible, and the lamp just in front
+of his house shone down upon a trackless bed of snow many inches in
+depth. No, Archie was not there. The cry had come to the mother's
+inward ear in the moment when her boy went plunging down into the
+engulfing river and heart and thought turned in his mortal agony to
+the one nearest and dearest in all the earth.
+
+When Mr. Voss came back into the house after his fruitless errand,
+he found his wife standing in the hall, only a few feet back from
+the vestibule, her face whiter, if that were possible, and her eyes
+wilder than before. Catching her in his arms, he ran with her up
+stairs, but before he had reached their chamber her light form lay
+nerveless and unconscious against his breast.
+
+Doctor Hillhouse, the old family physician, called up in the middle
+of that stormy night, hesitated to obey the summons, and sent his
+assistant with word that he would be round early in the morning if
+needed. Doctor Angier, the assistant, was a young physician of fine
+ability and great promise. Handsome in person, agreeable in manner
+and thoroughly in love with his profession, he was rapidly coming
+into favor with many of the old doctor's patients, the larger
+portion of whom belonged to wealthy and fashionable circles. Himself
+a member of one of the older families, and connected, both on his
+father's and mother's side, with eminent personages as well in his
+native city as in the State, Doctor Angier was naturally drawn into
+social life, which, spite of his increasing professional duties, he
+found time to enjoy.
+
+It was past two o'clock when Doctor Angier made his appearance, his
+garments white with snow and his dark beard crusted with tiny
+icicles. He found Mrs. Voss lying in swoon so deep that, but for the
+faintest perceptible heart-beat, he would have thought her dead.
+Watching the young physician closely as he stood by the bedside of
+his wife, Mr. Voss was quick to perceive something unusual in his
+manner. The professional poise and coolness for which he was noted
+were gone, and he showed a degree of excitement and uncertainty that
+alarmed the anxious husband. What was its meaning? Did it indicate
+apprehension for the condition of his patient, or--something else? A
+closer look into the young physician's face sent a flash of
+suspicion through the mind of Mr. Voss, which was more than
+confirmed a moment afterward as the stale odor of wine floated to
+his nostrils.
+
+"Were you at Mr. Birtwell's to-night?" There was a thrill of anxious
+suspense in the tones of Mr. Voss as he grasped the physician's arm
+and looked keenly at him.
+
+"I was," replied Doctor Angier.
+
+"Did you see my son there?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"At what time did you leave?"
+
+"Less than an hour ago. I had not retired when your summons came."
+
+"Was Archie there when you left?"
+
+"No, I think not."
+
+"Are you sure about it?"
+
+"Yes, very sure. I remember now, quite distinctly, seeing him come
+down from the dressing-room with his hat in his hand and go through
+the hall toward the street door."
+
+"How long ago was that?"
+
+"About an hour and a half; perhaps longer."
+
+A groan that could not be repressed broke from the father's lips.
+
+"Isn't he at home?" asked the young physician, turning round quickly
+from the bed and betraying a sudden concern.
+
+"No; and I am exceedingly anxious about him." The eyes of Mr. Voss
+were fixed intently on Doctor Angler, and he was reading every
+varying expression of his countenance.
+
+"Doctor," he said, laying his hand on the physician's arm and
+speaking huskily, "I want you to answer me truly. Had he taken much
+wine?"
+
+It was some moments before Doctor Angier replied:
+
+"On such occasions most people take wine freely. It flows like
+water, you know. I don't think your son indulged more than any one
+else; indeed, not half so much as some young men I saw there."
+
+Mr. Voss felt that there was evasion in the answer.
+
+"Archie is young, and not used to wine. A single glass would be more
+to him than half a dozen to older men who drink habitually. Did you
+see him take wine often?"
+
+"He was in the supper-room for a considerable time. When I left it,
+I saw him in the midst of a group of young men and girls, all with
+glasses of champagne in their hands."
+
+"How long was this before you saw him go away?"
+
+"Half an hour, perhaps," replied the doctor.
+
+"Did he go out alone?"
+
+"I believe so."
+
+Mr. Voss questioned no further, and Doctor Angler, who now
+understood better the meaning of his patient's condition, set
+himself to the work of restoring her to consciousness. He did not
+find the task easy. It was many hours before the almost stilled
+pulses began beating again with a perceptible stroke, and the quiet
+chest to give signs of normal respiration. Happily for the poor
+mother, thought and feeling were yet bound.
+
+Long before this the police had been aroused and every effort made
+to discover a trace of the young man after he left the house of Mr.
+Birtwell, but without effect. The snow had continued falling until
+after five o'clock, when the storm ceased and the sky cleared, the
+wind blowing from the north and the temperature falling to within a
+few degrees of zero.
+
+A faint hope lingered with Mr. Voss--the hope that Archie had gone
+home with some friend. But as the morning wore on and he did not
+make his appearance this hope began to fade away, and died before
+many hours. Nearly every male guest at Mrs. Birtwell's party was
+seen and questioned during the day, but not one of them had seen
+Archie after he left the house. A waiter who was questioned said
+that he remembered seeing him:
+
+"I watched him go down the steps and go off alone, and the wind
+seemed as if it would blow him away. He wasn't just himself, sir,
+I'm afraid."
+
+If a knife had cut down into the father's quivering flesh, the pain
+would have been as nothing to that inflicted by this last sentence.
+It only confirmed his worst fears.
+
+The afternoon papers contained a notice of the fact that a young
+gentleman who had gone away from a fashionable party at a late hour
+on the night before had not been heard of by his friends, who were
+anxious and distressed about him. Foul play was hinted at, as the
+young man wore a valuable diamond pin and had a costly gold watch in
+his pocket. On the morning afterward advertisements appeared
+offering a large reward for any information that would lead to the
+discovery of the young man, living or dead. They were accompanied by
+minute descriptions of his person and dress. But there came no
+response. Days and weeks passed; and though the advertisements were
+repeated and newspapers called public attention to the matter, not a
+single clue was found.
+
+A young man, with the kisses of his mother sweet on his pure lips,
+had left her for an evening's social enjoyment at the house of one
+of her closest and dearest friends, and she never looked upon his
+face again. He had entered the house of that friend with a clear
+head and steady nerves, and he had gone out at midnight bewildered
+with the wine that had been poured without stint to her hundred
+guests, young and old. How it had fared with him the reader knows
+too well.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+
+
+
+"HEAVENS and earth! Why doesn't some one go to the door?" exclaimed
+Mr. Spencer Birtwell, rousing himself from a heavy sleep as the bell
+was rung for the third time, and now with four or five vigorous and
+rapid jerks, each of which caused the handle of the bell to strike
+with the noise of a hammer.
+
+The gray dawn was just breaking.
+
+"There it is again! Good heavens! What does it mean?" and Mr.
+Birtwell, now fairly awake, started up in bed and sat listening.
+Scarcely a moment intervened before the bell was pulled again, and
+this time continuously for a dozen times. Springing from the bed,
+Mr. Birtwell threw open a window, and looking out, saw two policemen
+at the door.
+
+"What's wanted?" he called down to them.
+
+"Was there a young man here last night named Voss?" inquired one of
+the men.
+
+"What about him?" asked Mr. Birtwell.
+
+"He hasn't been home, and his friends are alarmed. Do you know where
+he is?"
+
+"Wait, returned Mr. Birtwell; and shutting down the window, he
+dressed himself hurriedly.
+
+"What is it?" asked his wife, who had been awakened from a heavy
+slumber by the noise at the window.
+
+"Archie Voss didn't get home last night."
+
+"What?" and Mrs. Birtwell started out of bed.
+
+"There are two policemen at the door."
+
+"Policemen!"
+
+"Yes; making a grand row for nothing, as if young men never stayed
+away from home. I must go down and see them. Go back into bed again,
+Margaret. You'll take your death o' cold. There's nothing to be
+alarmed about. He'll come up all right."
+
+But Mrs. Birtwell did not return to her bed. With warm wrapper
+thrown about her person, she stood at the head of the stairway while
+her husband went down to admit the policemen. All that could be
+learned from them was that Archie Voss had not come home from the
+party, and that his friends were greatly alarmed about him. Mr.
+Birtwell had no information to give. The young man had been at his
+house, and had gone away some time during the night, but precisely
+at what hour he could not tell.
+
+"You noticed him through the evening?" said one of the policemen.
+
+"Oh yes, certainly. We know Archie very well. He's always been
+intimate at our house."
+
+"Did he take wine freely?"
+
+An indignant denial leaped to Mr. Birtwell's tongue, but the words
+died unspoken, for the image of Archie, with flushed face and eyes
+too bright for sober health, holding in his hand a glass of
+sparkling champagne, came vividly before him.
+
+"Not more freely than other young men," he replied. "Why do you
+ask?"
+
+"There are two theories of his absence," said the policeman. "One is
+that he has been set upon in the street, robbed and murdered, and
+the other that, stupefied and bewildered by drink, he lost himself
+in the storm, and lies somewhere frozen to death and hidden under
+the snow."
+
+A cry of pain broke from the lips of Mrs. Birtwell, and she came
+hurrying down stairs. Too well did she remember the condition of
+Archie when she last saw him--Archie, the only son of her oldest and
+dearest friend, the friend she had known and loved since girlhood.
+He was not fit to go out alone in that cold and stormy night; and a
+guilty sense of responsibility smote upon her heart and set aside
+all excuses.
+
+"What about his mother?" she asked, anxiously. "How is she bearing
+this dreadful suspense?"
+
+"I can't just say, ma'am," was answered, "but I think they've had
+the doctor with her all night--that is, all the last part of the
+night. She's lying in a faint, I believe."
+
+"Oh, it will kill her! Poor Frances! Poor Frances!" wailed out Mrs.
+Birtwell, wringing her hands and beginning to cry bitterly.
+
+"The police have been on the lookout for the last two or three
+hours, but can't find any trace of him," said the officer.
+
+"Oh, he'll turn up all right," broke in Mr. Birtwell, with a
+confident tone. "It's only a scare. Gone home with some young
+friend, as like as not. Young fellows in their teens don't get lost
+in the snow, particularly in the streets of a great city, and
+footpads generally know their game before bringing it down. I'm
+sorry for poor Mrs. Voss; she isn't strong enough to bear such a
+shock. But it will all come right; I don't feel a bit concerned."
+
+But for all that he did feel deeply concerned. The policemen went
+away, and Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell sat down by an open grate in which
+the fire still burned.
+
+"Don't let it distress you so, Margaret," said the former, trying to
+comfort his wife. "There's nothing to fear for Archie. Nobody ever
+heard of a man getting lost in a city snow-storm. If he'd been out
+on a prairie, the case would have been different, but in the streets
+of the city! The thing's preposterous, Margaret."
+
+"Oh, if he'd only gone away as he came, I wouldn't feel so awfully
+about it," returned Mrs. Birtwell. "That's what cuts me to the
+heart. To think that he came to my house sober and went away--"
+
+She caught back from her tongue the word she would have spoken, and
+shivered.
+
+"Nothing of the kind, Margaret, nothing of the kind," said her
+husband, quickly. "A little gay--that was all. Just what is seen at
+parties every night. Archie hasn't much head, and a single glass of
+champagne is enough to set it buzzing. But it's soon over. The
+effervescence goes off in a little while, and the head comes clear
+again."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell did not reply. Her eyes were cast down and her face
+deeply distressed.
+
+"If anything has happened to Archie," she said, after a long
+silence, "I shall never have a moment's peace as long as I live."
+
+"Nonsense, Margaret! Suppose something has happened to him? We are
+not responsible. It's his own fault if he took away more wine than
+he was able to carry." Mr. Birtwell spoke with slight irritation.
+
+"If he hadn't found the wine here, he could not have carried it
+away," replied his wife.
+
+"How wildly you talk, Margaret!" exclaimed Mr. Birtwell, with
+increased irritation.
+
+"We won't discuss the matter," said his wife. "It would be useless,
+agreement being, I fear, out of the question; but it is very certain
+that we cannot escape responsibility in this or anything else we may
+do, and so long as these words of Holy Writ stand, _'Woe unto him
+that giveth his neighbor drink, that putteth the bottle to him and
+maketh him drunken'_, we may well have serious doubts in regard to
+the right and wrong of these fashionable entertainments, at which
+wine and spirits are made free to all of both sexes, young and old."
+
+Mr. Birtwell started to his feet and walked the floor with
+considerable excitement.
+
+"If _we_ had a son just coming to manhood--and I sometimes thank God
+that we have not--would you feel wholly at ease about him, wholly
+satisfied that he was in no danger in the houses of your friends?
+May not a young man as readily acquire a taste for liquors in a
+gentleman's dining-room as in a drinking-saloon--nay, more readily,
+if in the former the wine is free and bright eyes and laughing lips
+press him with invitations?"
+
+Mrs. Birtwell's voice had gained a steadiness and force that made it
+very impressive. Her husband continued to walk the floor but with
+slower steps.
+
+"I saw things last night that troubled me," she went on. "There is
+no disguising the fact that most of the young men who come to these
+large parties spend a great deal too much time in the supper-room,
+and drink a great deal more than is good for them. Archie Voss was
+not the only one who did this last evening. I watched another young
+man very closely, and am sorry to say that he left our house in a
+condition in which no mother waiting at home could receive her son
+without sorrow and shame."
+
+"Who was that?" asked Mr. Birtwell, turning quickly upon his wife.
+He had detected more than a common concern in her voice.
+
+"Ellis," she replied. Her manner was very grave.
+
+"You must be mistaken about that," said Mr. Birtwell, evidently
+disturbed at this communication.
+
+"I wish to Heaven that I were! But the fact was too apparent.
+Blanche saw it, and tried to get him out of the supper-room. He
+acted in the silliest kind of a way, and mortified her dreadfully,
+poor child!"
+
+"Such things will happen sometimes," said Mr. Birtwell. "Young men
+like Ellis don't always know how much they can bear." His voice was
+in a lower key and a little husky.
+
+"It happens too often with Ellis," replied his wife, "and I'm
+beginning to feel greatly troubled about it."
+
+"Has it happened before?"
+
+"Yes; at Mrs. Gleason's, only last week. He was loud and boisterous
+in the supper-room--so much so that I heard a lady speak of his
+conduct as disgraceful."
+
+"That will never do," exclaimed Mr. Birtwell, betraying much
+excitement. "He will have to change all this or give up Blanche. I
+don't care what his family is if he isn't all right himself."
+
+"It is easier to get into trouble than out of it," was replied.
+"Things have gone too far between them."
+
+"I don't believe it. Blanche will never throw herself away on a man
+of bad habits."
+
+"No; I do not think she will. But there may be, in her view, a very
+great distance between an occasional glass of wine too much at an
+evening party and confirmed bad habits. We must not hope to make her
+see with our eyes, nor to take our judgment of a case in which her
+heart is concerned. Love is full of excuses and full of faith. If
+Ellis Whitford should, unhappily, be overcome by this accursed
+appetite for drink which is destroying so many of our most promising
+young men, there is trouble ahead for her and for us."
+
+"Something must be done about it. We cannot let this thing go on,"
+said Mr. Birtwell, in a kind of helpless passion. "A drunkard is a
+beast. Our Blanche tied to a beast! Ugh! Ellis must be talked to. I
+shall see him myself. If he gets offended, I cannot help it. There's
+too much at stake--too much, too much!"
+
+"Talking never does much in these cases," returned Mrs. Birtwell,
+gloomily. "Ellis would be hurt and offended."
+
+"So far so good. He'd be on guard at the next party."
+
+"Perhaps so. But what hope is there for a young man in any danger of
+acquiring a love of liquor as things now are in our best society? He
+cannot always be on guard. Wine is poured for him everywhere. He may
+go unharmed in his daily walks through the city though thousands of
+drinking-saloons crowd its busy streets. They may hold out their
+enticements for him in vain. But he is too weak to refuse the
+tempting glass when a fair hostess offers it, or when, in the midst
+of a gay company wine is in every hand and at every lip. One glass
+taken, and caution and restraint are too often forgotten. He drinks
+with this one and that one, until his clear head is gone and
+appetite, like a watchful spider, throws another cord of its fatal
+web around him."
+
+"I don't see what we are to do about it," said Mr. Birtwell. "If men
+can't control themselves--" He did not finish the sentence.
+
+"We can at least refrain from putting temptation in their way,"
+answered his wife.
+
+"How?"
+
+"We can refuse to turn our houses into drinking-saloons," replied
+Mrs. Birtwell, voice and manner becoming excited and intense.
+
+"Margaret, Margaret, you are losing yourself," said the astonished
+husband.
+
+"No; I speak the words of truth and soberness," she answered, her
+face rising in color and her eyes brightening. "What great
+difference is there between a drinking-saloon, where liquor is sold,
+and a gentleman's dining-room, where it is given away? The harm is
+great in both--greatest, I fear, in the latter, where the weak and
+unguarded are allured and their tastes corrupted. There is a ban on
+the drinking-saloon. Society warns young men not to enter its
+tempting doors. It is called the way of death and hell. What makes
+it accursed and our home saloon harmless? It is all wrong, Mr.
+Birtwell--all wrong, wrong, wrong! and to-day we are tasting some of
+the fruit, the bitterness of which, I fear, will be in our mouths so
+long as we both shall live."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell broke down, and sinking back in her chair, covered her
+face with her hands.
+
+"I must go to Frances," she said, rising after a few moments.
+
+"Not now, Margaret," interposed her husband. "Wait for a while.
+Archie is neither murdered nor frozen to death; you may take my word
+for that. Wait until the morning advances, and he has time to put in
+an appearance, as they say. Henry can go round after breakfast and
+make inquiry about him. If he is still absent, then you might call
+and see Mrs. Voss. At present the snow lies inches deep and unbroken
+on the street, and you cannot possibly go out."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell sat down again, her countenance more distressed.
+
+"Oh, if it hadn't happened in our house!" she said. "If this awful
+thing didn't lie at our door!"
+
+"Good Heavens, Margaret! why will you take on so? Any one hearing
+you talk might think us guilty of murder, or some other dreadful
+crime. Even if the worst fears are realized, no blame can lie with
+us. Parties are given every night, and young men, and old men too,
+go home from them with lighter heads than when they came. No one is
+compelled to drink more than is good for him. If he takes too much,
+the sin lies at his own door."
+
+"If you talked for ever, Mr. Birtwell," was answered "nothing you
+might say could possibly change my feelings or sentiments. I know we
+are responsible both to God and to society for the stumbling-blocks
+we set in the way of others. For a long time, as you know, I have
+felt this in regard to our social wine-drinking customs; and if I
+could have had my way, there would have been one large party of the
+season at which neither man nor woman could taste wine."
+
+"I know," replied Mr. Birtwell. "But I didn't choose to make myself
+a laughing-stock. If we are in society, we must do as society does.
+Individuals are not responsible for social usages. They take things
+as they find them, going with the current, and leaving society to
+settle for itself its code of laws and customs. If we don't like
+these laws and customs, we are free to drift out of the current. But
+to set ourselves against them is a weakness and a folly."
+
+Mr. Birtwell's voice and manner grew more confident as he spoke. He
+felt that he had closed the argument.
+
+"If society," answered his wife, "gets wrong, how is it to get
+right?"
+
+Mr. Birtwell was silent.
+
+"Is it not made up of individuals?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"And is not each of the individuals responsible, in his degree, for
+the conduct of society?"
+
+"In a certain sense, yes."
+
+"Society, as a whole, cannot determine a question of right and
+wrong. Only individuals can do this. Certain of these, more
+independent than the rest, pass now and then from the beaten track
+of custom, and the great mass follow them. Because they do this or
+that, it is right or in good taste and becomes fashionable. The many
+are always led by the few. It is through the personal influence of
+the leaders in social life that society is now cursed by its
+drinking customs. Personal influence alone can change these customs,
+and therefore every individual becomes responsible, because he might
+if he would set his face against them, and any one brave enough to
+do this would find many weaker ones quick to come to his side and
+help him to form a better social sentiment and a better custom."
+
+"All very nicely said," replied Mr. Birtwell, "but I'd like to see
+the man brave enough to give a large fashionable party and exclude
+wine."
+
+"So would I. Though every lip but mine kept silence, there would be
+one to do him honor."
+
+"You would be alone, I fear," said the husband.
+
+"When a man does a right and brave thing, all true men honor him in
+their hearts. All may not be brave enough to stand by his side, but
+a noble few will imitate the good example. Give the leader in any
+cause, right or wrong, and you will always find adherents of the
+cause. No, my husband, I would not be alone in doing that man honor.
+His praise would be on many lips and many hearts would bless him. I
+only wish you were that man! Spencer, if you will consent to take
+this lead, I will walk among our guests the queenliest woman, in
+heart at least, to be found in any drawing-room this season. I shall
+not be without my maids-of-honor, you may be sure, and they will
+come from the best families known in our city. Come! say yes, and I
+will be prouder of my husband than if he were the victorious general
+of a great army."
+
+"No, thank you, my dear," replied Mr. Birtwell, not in the least
+moved by his wife's enthusiasm. "I am not a social reformer, nor in
+the least inclined that way. As I find things I take them. It is no
+fault of mine that some people have no control of their appetites
+and passions. Men will abuse almost anything to their own hurt. I
+saw as many of our guests over-eat last night as over-drink, and
+there will be quite as many headaches to-day from excess of terrapin
+and oysters as from excess of wine. It's no use, Margaret.
+Intemperance is not to be cured in this way. Men who have a taste
+for wine will get it, if not in one place then in another; if not in
+a gentleman's dining-room, then in a drinking-saloon, or somewhere
+else."
+
+The glow faded from Mrs. Birtwell's face and the light went out of
+her eyes. Her voice was husky and choking as she replied:
+
+"One fact does not invalidate another. Because men who have acquired
+a taste for wine will have it whether we provide it for them or not,
+it is no reason why we should set it before the young whose
+appetites are yet unvitiated and lure them to excesses. It does not
+make a free indulgence in wine and brandy any the more excusable
+because men overeat themselves."
+
+"But," broke in Mr. Birtwell, with the manner of one who gave an
+unanswerable reason, "if we exclude wine that men may not hurt
+themselves by over-indulgence, why not exclude the oysters and
+terrapin? If we set up for reformers and philanthropists, why not
+cover the whole ground?"
+
+"Oysters and terrapin," replied Mrs. Birtwell, in a voice out of
+which she could hardly keep the contempt she felt for her husband's
+weak rejoinder, "don't confuse the head, dethrone the reason,
+brutalize, debase and ruin men in soul and body as do wine and
+brandy. The difference lies there, and all men see and feel it, make
+what excuses they will for self-indulgence and deference to custom.
+The curse of drink is too widely felt. There is scarcely a family in
+the land on which its blight does not lie. The best, the noblest,
+the purest, the bravest, have fallen. It is breaking hopes and
+hearts and fortunes every day. The warning cross that marks the
+grave of some poor victim hurts your eyes at every turn of life. We
+are left without excuse."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell rose as she finished speaking, and returned to her
+chamber.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+
+
+
+"MR. VOSS," said the waiter as he opened the door of the
+breakfast-room.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell left the table hurriedly and went to the
+parlor. Their visitor was standing in the middle of the floor as
+they entered.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Voss, have you heard anything of Archie?" exclaimed Mrs.
+Birtwell.
+
+"Nothing yet," he replied.
+
+"Dreadful, dreadful! What can it mean?"
+
+"Don't be alarmed about it," said Mr. Birtwell, trying to speak in
+an assuring voice. "He must have gone home with a friend. It will be
+all right, I am confident."
+
+"I trust so," replied Mr. Voss. "But I cannot help feeling very
+anxious. He has never been away all night before. Something is
+wrong. Do you know precisely at what time he left here?"
+
+"I do not," replied Mr. Birtwell. "We had a large company, and I did
+not note particularly the coming or going of any one."
+
+"Doctor Angier thinks it was soon after twelve o'clock. He saw him
+come out of the dressing-room and go down stairs about that time."
+
+"How is Frances?" asked Mrs. Birtwell. "It must be a dreadful shock
+to her in her weak state."
+
+"Yes, it is dreadful, and I feel very anxious about her. If anything
+has happened to Archie, it will kill her."
+
+Tears fell over Mrs. Birtwell's face and she wrung her hands in
+distress.
+
+"She is calmer than she was," said Mr. Voss. "The first alarm and
+suspense broke her right down, and she was insensible for some
+hours. But she is bearing it better now--much better than I had
+hoped for."
+
+"I will go to see her at once. Oh, if I knew how to comfort her!"
+
+To this Mr. Voss made no response, but Mrs. Birtwell, who was
+looking into his, face, saw an expression that she did not
+understand.
+
+"She will see me, of course?"
+
+"I do not know. Perhaps you'd better not go round yet. It might
+disturb her too much, and the doctor says she must be kept as quiet
+as possible."
+
+Something in the manner of Mr. Voss sent a chill to the heart of
+Mrs. Birtwell. She felt an evasion in his reply. Then a suspicion of
+the truth flashed upon her mind, overwhelming her with a flood of
+bitterness in which shame, self-reproach, sorrow and distress were
+mingled. It was from her hand, so to speak, that the son of her
+friend had taken the wine which had bewildered his senses, and from
+her house that he had gone forth with unsteady step and confused
+brain to face a storm the heaviest and wildest that had been known
+for years. If he were dead, would not the stain of his blood be on
+her garments?
+
+No marvel that Mr. Voss had said, "Not yet; it might disturb her too
+much." Disturb the friend with whose heart her own had beaten in
+closest sympathy and tenderest love for years--the friend who had
+flown to her in the deepest sorrow she had ever known and held her
+to her heart until she was comforted by the sweet influences of
+love. Oh, this was hard to bear! She bowed her head and stood
+silent.
+
+"I wish," said Mr. Voss, speaking to Mr. Birtwell, "to get the names
+of a few of the guests who were here last night. Some of them may
+have seen Archie go out, or may have gone away at the time he did. I
+must find some clue to the mystery of his absence."
+
+Mr. Birtwell named over many of his guests, and Mr. Voss made a note
+of their addresses. The chill went deeper down into the heart of
+Mrs. Birtwell; and when Mr. Voss, who seemed to grow colder and more
+constrained every moment, without looking at her, turned to go away,
+the pang that cut her bosom was sharp and terrible.
+
+"If I can do anything, Mr. Voss, command--" Mr. Birtwell had gone to
+the door with his visitor, who passed out hastily, not waiting to
+hear the conclusion of his sentence.
+
+"A little strange in his manner, I should say," remarked Mr.
+Birtwell as he came back. "One might infer that he thought us to
+blame for his son's absence."
+
+"I can't bear this suspense. I must see Frances." It was an hour
+after Mr. Voss had been there. Mrs. Birtwell rang a bell, and
+ordering the carriage, made herself ready to go out.
+
+"Mrs. Voss says you must excuse her," said the servant who had taken
+up Mrs. Birtwell's card. "She is not seeing any but the family,"
+added the man, who saw in the visitor's face the pain of a great
+disappointment.
+
+Slowly retiring, her head bent forward and her body stooping a
+little like one pressed down by a burden, Mrs. Birtwell left the
+house of her oldest and dearest friend with an aching sense of
+rejection at her heart. In the darkest and saddest hour of her life
+that friend had turned from the friend who had been to her more than
+a sister, refusing the sympathy and tears she had come to offer.
+There was a bitter cup at the lips of both; which was the bitterest
+it would be hard to tell.
+
+"Not now," Mrs. Voss had said, speaking to her husband; "I cannot
+meet her now."
+
+"Perhaps you had better see her," returned the latter.
+
+"No, no, no!" Mrs. Voss put up her hands and shivered as she spoke.
+"I cannot, I cannot! Oh, my boy! my son! my poor Archie! Where are
+you? Why do you not come home? Hark!"
+
+The bell had rung loudly. They listened, and heard men's voices in
+the hall below. With face flushing and paling in quick alternations,
+Mrs. Voss started up in bed and leaned forward, hearkening eagerly.
+Mr. Voss opened the chamber door and went out. Two policemen had
+come to report that so far all efforts to find a trace of the young
+man had been utterly fruitless. Mrs. Voss heard in silence. Slowly
+the dark lashes fell upon her cheeks, that were white as marble. Her
+lips were rigid and closely shut, her hands clenched tightly. So she
+struggled with the fear and agony that were assaulting her life.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+
+
+
+A HANDSOME man of forty-five stood lingering by the bedside of his
+wife, whose large tender eyes looked up at him almost wistfully. A
+baby's head, dark with beautiful hair that curled in scores of
+silken ringlets, lay close against her bosom. The chamber was not
+large nor richly furnished, though everything was in good taste and
+comfortable. A few articles were out of harmony with the rest and
+hinted at better days. One of these was a large secretary of curious
+workmanship, inlaid with costly woods and pearl and rich with
+carvings. Another was a small mantel clock of exquisite beauty. Two
+or three small but rare pictures hung on the walls.
+
+Looking closely into the man's strong intellectual face, you would
+have seen something that marred the harmony of its fine features and
+dimmed its clear expression--something to stir a doubt or awaken a
+feeling of concern. The eyes, that were deep and intense, had a
+shadow in them, and the curves of the mouth had suffering and
+passion and evidences of stern mental conflict in every line. This
+was no common man, no social drone, but one who in his contact with
+men was used to making himself felt.
+
+"Come home early, Ralph, won't you?" said his wife.
+
+The man bent down and kissed her, and then pressed his lips to the
+baby's head.
+
+"Yes, dear; I don't mean to stay late. If it wasn't for the
+expectation of meeting General Logan and one or two others that I
+particularly wish to see, I wouldn't go at all. I have to make good,
+you know, all the opportunities that come in my way."
+
+"Oh yes, I know. You must go, of course." She had taken her
+husband's hand, and was holding it with a close pressure. He had to
+draw it away almost by force.
+
+"Good-night, dear, and God bless you." His voice trembled a little.
+He stooped and kissed her again. A moment after and she was alone.
+Then all the light went out of her face and a deep shadow fell
+quickly over it. She shut her eyes, but not tightly enough to hold
+back the tears that soon carne creeping slowly out from beneath the
+closed lashes.
+
+Ralph Ridley was a lawyer of marked ability. A few years before, he
+had given up a good practice at the bar for an office under the
+State government. Afterward he was sent to Congress and passed four
+years in Washington. Like too many of our ablest public men, the
+temptations of that city were too much for him. It was the old sad
+story that repeats itself every year. He fell a victim to the
+drinking customs of our national capital. Everywhere and on all
+social occasions invitations to wine met him. He drank with a friend
+on his way to the House, and with another in the Capitol buildings
+before taking his seat for business. He drank at lunch and at
+dinner, and he drank more freely at party or levee in the evening.
+Only in the early morning was he free from the bewildering effects
+of liquor.
+
+Four years of such a life broke down his manhood. Hard as he
+sometimes struggled to rise above the debasing appetite that had
+enslaved him, resolution snapped like thread in a flame with every
+new temptation. He stood erect and hopeful to-day, and to-morrow lay
+prone and despairing under the heel of his enemy.
+
+At the end of his second term in Congress the people of his district
+rejected him. They could tolerate a certain degree of drunkenness
+and demoralization in their representative, but Ridley had fallen
+too low. They would have him no longer, and so he was left out in
+the party nomination and sent back into private life hurt,
+humiliated and in debt. No clients awaited his return. His
+law-office had been closed for years, and there was little
+encouragement to open it again in the old place. For some weeks
+after his failure to get the nomination Ridley drank more
+desperately than ever, and was in a state of intoxication nearly all
+the while. His poor wife, who clung to him through all with an
+unwavering fidelity, was nearly broken-hearted. In vain had
+relatives and friends interposed. No argument nor persuasion could
+induce her to abandon him. "He is my husband," was her only reply,
+"and I will not leave him."
+
+One night he was brought home insensible. He had fallen in the
+street where some repairs were being made, and had received serious
+injuries which confined him to the house for two or three weeks.
+This gave time for reflection and repentance. The shame and remorse
+that filled his soul as he looked at his sad, pale wife and
+neglected children, and thought of his tarnished name and lost
+opportunities, spurred him to new and firmer resolves than ever
+before made. He could go forward no longer without utter ruin. No
+hope was left but in turning back. He must set his face in a new
+direction, and he vowed to do so, promising God on his knees in
+tears and agony to hold, by his vow sacredly.
+
+A new day had dawned. As soon as Mr. Ridley was well enough to be
+out again he took counsel of friends, and after careful deliberation
+resolved to leave his native town and remove to the city. A lawyer
+of fine ability, and known to the public as a clear thinker and an
+able debater, he had made quite an impression on the country during
+his first term in Congress; neither he nor his friends had any doubt
+as to his early success, provided he was able to keep himself free
+from the thraldom of old habits.
+
+A few old friends and political associates made up a purse to enable
+him to remove to the city with his family. An office was taken and
+three rooms rented in a small house, where, with his wife and two
+children, one daughter in her fourteenth year, life was started
+anew. There was no room for a servant in this small establishment
+even if he had been able to pay the hire of one.
+
+So the new beginning was made. A man of Mr. Ridley's talents and
+reputation could not long remain unemployed. In the very first week
+he had a client and a retaining fee of twenty-five dollars. The case
+was an important one, involving some nice questions of mercantile
+law. It came up for argument in the course of a few weeks, and gave
+the opportunity he wanted. His management of the case was so
+superior to that of the opposing counsel, and his citations of law
+and precedent so cumulative and explicit, that he gained not only an
+easy victory, but made for himself a very favorable impression.
+
+After that business began gradually to flow in upon him, and he was
+able to gather in sufficient to keep his family, though for some
+time only in a very humble way. Having no old acquaintances in the
+city, Mr. Ridley was comparatively free from temptation. He was
+promptly at his office in the morning, never leaving it, except to
+go into court or some of the public offices on business, until the
+hour arrived for returning home.
+
+A new life had become dominant, a new ambition was ruling him. Hope
+revived in the heart of his almost despairing wife, and the future
+looked bright again. His eyes had grown clear and confident once
+more and his stooping shoulders square and erect. In his bearing you
+saw the old stateliness and conscious sense of power. Men treated
+him with deference and respect.
+
+In less than a year Mr. Ridley was able to remove his family into a
+better house and to afford the expense of a servant. So far they had
+kept out of the city's social life. Among strangers and living
+humbly, almost meanly, they neither made nor received calls nor had
+invitations to evening entertainments; and herein lay Mr. Ridley's
+safety. It was on his social side that he was weakest. He could hold
+himself above appetite and deny its cravings if left to the contest
+alone. The drinking-saloons whose hundred doors he had to pass daily
+did not tempt him, did not cause his firm steps to pause nor linger.
+His sorrow and shame for the past and his solemn promises and hopes
+for the future were potent enough to save him from all such
+allurements. For him their doors stood open in vain. The path of
+danger lay in another direction. He would have to be taken unawares.
+If betrayed at all, it must be, so to speak, in the house of a
+friend. The Delilah of "good society" must put caution and
+conscience to sleep and then rob him of his strength.
+
+The rising man at the bar of a great city who had already served two
+terms in Congress could not long remain in social obscurity; and as
+it gradually became known in the "best society" that Mrs. Ridley
+stood connected with some of the "best families" in the State, one
+and another began to call upon her and to court her acquaintance,
+even though she was living in comparative obscurity and in a humble
+way.
+
+At first regrets were returned to all invitations to evening
+entertainments, large or small. Mr. Ridley very well understood why
+his wife, who was social and naturally fond of company, was so
+prompt to decline. He knew that the excuse, "We are not able to give
+parties in return," was not really the true one. He knew that she
+feared the temptation that would come to him, and he was by no means
+insensible to the perils that would beset him whenever he found
+himself in the midst of a convivial company, with the odor of wine
+heavy on the air and invitations to drink meeting him at every turn.
+
+But this could not always be. Mr. and Mrs. Ridley could not for ever
+hold themselves away from the social life of a large city among the
+people of which their acquaintance was gradually extending. Mrs.
+Ridley would have continued to stand aloof because of the danger she
+had too good reason to fear, but her husband was growing, she could
+see, both sensitive and restless. He wanted the professional
+advantages society would give him, and he wanted, moreover, to prove
+his manhood and take away the reproach under which he felt himself
+lying.
+
+Sooner or later he must walk this way of peril, and he felt that he
+was becoming strong enough and brave enough to meet the old enemy
+that had vanquished him so many times.
+
+"We will go," he said, on receiving cards of invitation to a party
+given by a prominent and influential citizen. "People will be there
+whom I should meet, and people whom I want you to meet."
+
+He saw a shadow creep into his wife's face; Mrs. Ridley saw the
+shadow reflected almost as a frown from his. She knew what was in
+her husband's thoughts, knew that he felt hurt and restless under
+her continued reluctance to have him go into any company where wine
+and spirits were served to the guests, and feeling that a longer
+opposition might do more harm than good, answered, with as much
+heartiness and assent as she could get into her voice:
+
+"Very well, but it will cost you the price of a new dress, for I
+have nothing fit to appear in."
+
+The shadow swept off Mr. Ridley's face.
+
+"All right," he returned. "I received a fee of fifty dollars to-day,
+and you shall have every cent; of it."
+
+In the week that intervened Mrs. Ridley made herself ready for the
+party; but had she been preparing for a funeral, her heart could
+scarcely have been heavier. Fearful dreams haunted her sleep, and
+through the day imagination would often draw pictures the sight of
+which made her cry out in sudden pain and fear. All this she
+concealed from her husband, and affected to take a pleased interest
+in the coming entertainment.
+
+Mrs. Ridley was still a handsome woman, and her husband felt the old
+pride warming his bosom when he saw her again among brilliant and
+attractive women and noted the impression she made. He watched her
+with something of the proud interest a mother feels for a beautiful
+daughter who makes her appearance in society for the first time, and
+his heart beat with liveliest pleasure as he noticed the many
+instances in which she attracted and held people by the grace of her
+manner and the charm of her conversation.
+
+"God bless her!" he said in his heart fervently as the love he bore
+her warmed into fresher life and moved him with a deeper tenderness,
+and then he made for her sake a new vow of abstinence and set anew
+the watch and ward upon his appetite. And he had need of watch and
+ward. The wine-merchant's bill for that evening's entertainment was
+over eight hundred dollars, and men and women, girls and boys, all
+drank in unrestrained freedom.
+
+Mrs. Ridley, without seeming to do so, kept close to her husband
+while he was in the supper-room, and he, as if feeling the power of
+her protecting influence, was pleased to have her near. The smell of
+wine, its sparkle in the glasses, the freedom and apparent safety
+with which every one drank, the frequent invitations received, and
+the little banter and half-surprised lifting of the eyebrows that
+came now and then upon refusal were no light draught on Mr. Ridley's
+strength.
+
+"Have you tried this sherry, Mr. Ridley?" said the gentlemanly host,
+taking a bottle from the supper-table and filling two glasses. "It
+is very choice." He lifted one of the glasses as he spoke and handed
+it to his guest. There was a flattering cordiality in his manner
+that made the invitation almost irresistible, and moreover he was a
+prominent and influential citizen whose favorable consideration Mr.
+Ridley wished to gain. If his wife had not been standing by his
+side, he would have accepted the glass, and for what seemed good
+breeding's sake have sipped a little, just tasting its flavor, so
+that he could compliment his host upon its rare quality.
+
+"Thank you," Mr. Ridley was able to say, "but I do not take wine."
+His voice was not clear and manly, but unsteady and weak.
+
+"Oh, excuse me," said the gentleman, setting down the glass quickly.
+"I was not aware of that." He stood as if slightly embarrassed for a
+moment, and then, turning to a clergyman who stood close by, said:
+
+"Will you take a glass of wine with me, Mr. Elliott?"
+
+An assenting smile broke into Mr. Elliott's face, and he reached for
+the glass which Mr. Ridley had just refused.
+
+"Something very choice," said the host.
+
+The clergyman tasted and sipped with the air of a connoisseur.
+
+"Very choice indeed, sir," he replied. "But you always have good
+wine."
+
+Mrs. Ridley drew her hand in her husband's arm and leaned upon it.
+
+"If it is to be had," returned the host, a little, proudly; "and I
+generally know where to get it. A good glass of wine I count among
+the blessings for which one may give thanks--wine, I mean, not
+drugs."
+
+"Exactly; wine that is pure hurts no one, unless, indeed, his
+appetite has been vitiated through alcoholic indulgence, and even
+then I have sometimes thought that the moderate use of strictly pure
+wine would restore the normal taste and free a man from the tyranny
+of an enslaving vice."
+
+That sentence took quick hold upon the thought of Mr. Ridley. It
+gave him a new idea, and he listened with keen interest to what
+followed.
+
+"You strike the keynote of a true temperance reformation, Mr.
+Elliott," returned the host. "Give men pure wine instead of the vile
+stuff that bears its name, and you will soon get rid of drunkenness.
+I have always preached that doctrine."
+
+"And I imagine you are about right," answered Mr. Elliott. "Wine is
+one of God's gifts, and must be good. If men abuse it sometimes, it
+is nothing more than they do with almost every blessing the Father
+of all mercies bestows upon his children. The abuse of a thing is no
+argument against its use."
+
+Mrs. Ridley drew upon the arm of her husband. She did not like the
+tenor of this conversation, and wanted to get him away. But he was
+interested in what the clergyman was saying, and wished to hear what
+further he might adduce in favor of the health influence of pure
+wine.
+
+"I have always used wine, and a little good brandy too, and am as
+free from any inordinate appetite as your most confirmed abstainer;
+but then I take especial care to have my liquor pure."
+
+"A thing not easily done," said the clergyman, replying to their
+host.
+
+"Not easy for every one, but yet possible. I have never found much
+difficulty."
+
+"There will be less difficulty, I presume," returned Mr. Elliott,
+"when this country becomes, as it soon will, a large wine producing
+region. When cheap wines take the place of whisky, we will have a
+return to temperate habits among the lower classes, and not, I am
+satisfied, before. There is, and always has been, a craving in the
+human system for some kind of stimulus. After prolonged effort there
+is exhaustion and nervous languor that cannot always wait upon the
+restorative work of nutrition; indeed, the nutritive organs
+themselves often need stimulation before they can act with due
+vigor. Isn't that so, Dr. Hillhouse?"
+
+And the clergyman addressed a handsome old man with hair almost as
+white as snow who stood listening to the conversation. He held a
+glass of wine in his hand.
+
+"You speak with the precision of a trained pathologist," replied the
+person addressed, bowing gracefully and with considerable manner as
+he spoke. "I could not have said it better, Mr. Elliott."
+
+The clergyman received the compliment with a pleased smile and bowed
+his acknowledgments, then remarked:
+
+"You think as I do about the good effects that must follow a large
+product of American wines?"
+
+Dr. Hillhouse gave a little shrug.
+
+"Oh, then you don't agree with me?"
+
+"Pure wine is one thing and too much of what is called American wine
+quite another thing," replied the doctor. "Cheap wine for the
+people, as matters now stand, is only another name for diluted
+alcohol. It is better than pure whisky, maybe, though the larger
+quantity that will naturally be taken must give the common dose of
+that article and work about the same effect in the end."
+
+"Then you are not in favor of giving the people cheap wines?" said
+the clergyman.
+
+The doctor shrugged his shoulders again.
+
+"I have been twice to Europe," he replied, "and while there looked a
+little into the condition of the poorer classes in wine countries. I
+had been told that there was scarcely any intemperance among them,
+but I did not find it so. There, as here, the use of alcohol in any
+form, whether as beer, wine or whisky, produces the same result,
+varied in its effect upon the individual only by the peculiarity of
+temperament and national character of the people. I'll take another
+glass of that sherry; it's the best I've tasted for a year."
+
+And Dr. Hillhouse held out his glass to be filled by the flattered
+host, Mr. Elliott doing the same, and physician and clergyman
+touched their brimming glasses and smiled and bowed "a good health."
+Before the hour for going home arrived both were freer of tongue and
+a little wilder in manner than when they came.
+
+"The doctor is unusually brilliant to-night," said one, with just a
+slight lifting of the eyebrow.
+
+"And so is Mr. Elliott," returned the person addressed, glancing at
+the clergyman, who, standing in the midst of a group of young men,
+glass in hand, was telling a story and laughing at his own
+witticisms.
+
+"Nothing strait-laced about Mr. Elliott," remarked the other. "I
+like him for that. He doesn't think because he's a clergyman that he
+must always wear a solemn face and act as if he were conducting a
+funeral service. Just hear him laugh! It makes you feel good. You
+can get near to such a man. All the young people in his congregation
+like him because he doesn't expect them to come up to his official
+level, but is ever ready to come down to them and enter into their
+feelings and tastes."
+
+"He likes a good glass of wine," said the first speaker.
+
+"Of course he does. Have you any objection?"
+
+"Shall I tell you what came into my thought just now?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What St. Paul said about eating meat."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"'If meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the
+world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend.' And again: 'Take
+heed lest by any means this liberty of yours become a
+stumbling-block to them that are weak.'"
+
+"How does that apply to Mr. Elliott?"
+
+"There are more than one or two young men in the group that
+surrounds him who need a better example than he is now setting. They
+need repression in the matter of wine-drinking, not encouragement--a
+good example of abstinence in their minister, and not enticement to
+drink through his exhibition of liberty. Do you think that I, church
+member though I am not, could stand as Mr. Elliott is now standing,
+glass in hand, gayly talking to young Ellis Whitford, who rarely
+goes to a party without--poor weak young man!--drinking too much,
+and so leading him on in the way of destruction instead of seeking
+in eager haste to draw him back? No sir! It is no light thing, as I
+regard it, to put a stumbling-block in another's way or to lead the
+weak or unwary into temptation."
+
+"Perhaps you are right about it," was the answer, "and I must
+confess that, though not a temperance man myself, I never feel quite
+comfortable about it when I see clergymen taking wine freely at
+public dinners and private parties. It is not a good example, to say
+the least of it; and if there is a class of men in the community to
+whom we have some right to look for a good example, it is the class
+chosen and set apart to the work of saving human souls."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+
+
+
+MR. RIDLEY went home from that first party with his head as clear
+and his pulse as cool as when he came. The wine had not tempted him
+very strongly, though its odor had been fragrant to his nostrils,
+and the sparkle in the glasses pleasant to his sight. Appetite had
+not aroused itself nor put on its strength, but lay half asleep,
+waiting for some better opportunity, when the sentinels should be
+weaker or off their guard.
+
+It had been much harder for him to refuse the invitation of his host
+than to deny the solicitations of the old desire. He had been in
+greater danger from pride than from appetite; and there remained
+with him a sense of being looked down upon and despised by the
+wealthy and eminent citizen who had honored him with an invitation,
+and who doubtless regarded his refusal to take wine with him as
+little less than a discourtesy. There were moments when he almost
+regretted that refusal. The wine which had been offered was of the
+purest quality, and he remembered but too well the theory advanced
+by Mr. Elliott, that the moderate use of pure wine would restore the
+normal taste and free a man whose appetite had been vitiated from
+its enslaving influence. His mind recurred to that thought very
+often, and the more he dwelt upon it, the more inclined he was to
+accept it as true. If it were indeed so, then he might be a man
+among men again.
+
+Mr. Ridley did not feel as comfortable in his mind after as before
+this party, nor was he as strong as before. The enemy had found a
+door unguarded, had come in stealthily, and was lying on the alert,
+waiting for an opportunity.
+
+A few weeks afterward came another invitation. It was accepted. Mrs.
+Ridley was not really well enough, to go out, but for her husband's
+sake she went with him, and by her presence and the quiet power she
+had over him held him back from the peril he might, standing alone,
+have tempted.
+
+A month later, and cards of invitation were received from Mr. and
+Mrs. Spencer Birtwell. This was to be among the notable
+entertainments of the season. Mr. Birtwell was a wealthy banker who,
+like other men, had his weaknesses, one of which was a love of
+notoriety and display. He had a showy house and attractive
+equipages, and managed to get his name frequently chronicled in the
+newspapers, now as the leader in some public enterprise or charity,
+now as the possessor of some rare work of art, and now as the
+princely capitalists whose ability and sagacity had lifted him from
+obscurity to the proud position he occupied. He built himself a
+palace for a residence, and when it was completed and furnished
+issued tickets of admission, that the public might see in what
+splendor he was going to live. Of course the newspapers described
+everything with a minuteness of detail and a freedom of remark that
+made some modest and sensitive people fancy that Mr. Birtwell must
+be exceedingly annoyed. But he experienced no such feeling. Praise
+of any kind was pleasant to his ears; you could not give him too
+much, nor was he over-nice as to the quality. He lived in the eyes
+of his fellow-citizens, and in all his walk and conversation, he
+looked to their good opinion.
+
+Such was Mr. Birtwell, at whose house a grand entertainment was to
+be given. Among the large number of invited guests were included Mr.
+and Mrs. Ridley. But it so happened that Mrs. Ridley could not go. A
+few days before the evening on which this party was to be given a
+new-born babe had been laid on her bosom.
+
+"Good-night, dear, and God bless you!" Mr. Ridley had said, in a
+voice that was very tender, as he stooped over and kissed his wife.
+No wonder that all the light went out of her face the moment she was
+alone, nor that a shadow fell quickly over it, nor that from beneath
+the fringes of her shut eyelids tears crept slowly and rested upon
+her cheeks. If her husband had left her for the battlefield, she
+could not have felt a more dreadful impression of danger, nor have
+been oppressed by a more terrible fear for his safety. No wonder
+that her nurse, coming into the chamber a few minutes after Mr.
+Ridley went out, found her in a nervous chill.
+
+The spacious and elegant drawing-rooms of Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell were
+crowded with the elite of the city, and the heart of the former
+swelled with pride as he received his guests and thought of their
+social, professional or political distinction, the lustre of which
+he felt to be, for the time, reflected upon himself. It was good to
+be in such company, and to feel that he was equal with the best. He
+had not always been the peer of such men. There had been an era of
+obscurity out of which he had slowly emerged, and therefore he had
+the larger pride and self-satisfaction in the position he now held.
+
+Mrs. Birtwell was a woman of another order. All her life she had
+been used to the elegancy that a wealthy parentage gave, and to
+which her husband had been, until within a few years, an entire
+stranger. She was "to the manner born," he a parvenu with a restless
+ambition to outshine. Familiarity with things luxurious and costly
+had lessened their value in her eyes, and true culture had lifted
+her above the weakness of resting in or caring much about them,
+while their newness and novelty to Mr. Birtwell made enjoyment keen,
+and led him on to extravagant and showy exhibitions of wealth that
+caused most people to smile at his weakness, and a good many to ask
+who he was and from whence he came that he carried himself so
+loftily. Mrs. Birtwell did not like the advanced position to which
+her husband carried her, but she yielded to his weak love of
+notoriety and social eclat as gracefully as possible, and did her
+best to cover his too glaring violations of good taste and
+conventional refinement. In this she was not always successful.
+
+Of course the best of liquors in lavish abundance were provided by
+Mr. Birtwell for his guests. Besides the dozen different kinds of
+wine that were on the supper-table, there was a sideboard for
+gentlemen, in a room out of common observation, well stocked with
+brandy, gin and whisky, and it was a little curious to see how
+quickly this was discovered by certain of the guests, who scented it
+as truly as a bee scents honey in a clover-field, and extracted its
+sweets as eagerly.
+
+Of the guests who were present we have now to deal chiefly with Mr.
+Ridley, and only incidentally with the rest. Dr. Hillhouse was there
+during the first part of the evening, but went away early--that, is,
+before twelve o'clock. He remained long enough, however, to do full
+justice to the supper and wines. His handsome and agreeable young
+associate, Dr. Angler, a slight acquaintance with whom the reader
+has already, prolonged his stay to a later hour.
+
+The Rev. Dr. Elliott was also, among the guests, displaying his fine
+social qualities and attracting about him the young and the old.
+Everybody liked Dr. Elliott, he was so frank, so cordial, free and
+sympathetic, and, withal, so intelligent. He did not bring the
+clergyman with him into a gay drawing-room, nor the ascetic to a
+feast. He could talk with the banker about finance, with the
+merchant about trade, with the student or editor about science,
+literature and the current events of the day, and with young men and
+maidens about music and the lighter matters in which they happened
+to be interested. And, moreover, he could enjoy a good supper and
+knew the flavor of good wine. A man of such rare accomplishments
+came to be a general favorite, and so you encountered Mr. Elliott at
+nearly all the fashionable parties.
+
+Mr. Ridley had met the reverend doctor twice, and had been much
+pleased with him. What he had heard him say about the healthy or
+rather saving influences of pure wine had taken a strong hold of his
+thoughts, and he had often wished for an opportunity to talk with
+him about it. On this evening he found that opportunity. Soon after
+his arrival at the house of Mr. Birtwell he saw Mr. Elliott in one
+of the parlors, and made his way into the little group which had
+already gathered around the affable clergyman. Joining in the
+conversation, which was upon some topic of the day, Mr. Ridley, who
+talked well, was not long in awakening that interest in the mind of
+Mr. Elliott which one cultivated and intelligent person naturally
+feels for another; and in a little while, they had the conversation
+pretty much to themselves. It touched this theme and that, and
+finally drifted in a direction which enabled Mr. Ridley to refer to
+what he had heard Mr. Elliott say about the healthy effect of pure
+wine on the taste of men whose appetites had become morbid, and to
+ask him if he had any good ground for his belief.
+
+"I do not know that I can bring any proof of my theory," returned
+Mr. Elliott, "but I hold to it on the ground of an eternal fitness
+of things. Wine is good, and was given by God to make glad the
+hearts of men, and is to be used temperately, as are all other
+gifts. It may be abused, and is abused daily. Men hurt themselves by
+excess of wine as by excess of food. But the abuse of a thing is no
+argument against its use. If a man through epicurism or gormandizing
+has brought on disease, what do you do with him? Deny him all food,
+or give him of the best in such quantities as his nutritive system
+can appropriate and change into healthy muscle, nerve and bone? You
+do the latter, of course, and so would I treat the case of a man who
+bad hurt himself by excess of wine. I would see that he had only the
+purest and in diminished quantity, so that his deranged system might
+not only have time but help in regaining its normal condition."
+
+"And you think this could be safely done?" said Mr. Ridley.
+
+"That is my view of the case."
+
+"Then you do not hold to the entire abstinence theory?"
+
+"No, sir; on that subject our temperance people have run into what
+we might call fanaticism, and greatly weakened their influence. Men
+should be taught self-control and moderation in the use of things.
+If the appetite becomes vitiated through over-indulgence, you do not
+change its condition by complete denial. What you want for radical
+cure is the restoration of the old ability to use without abusing.
+In other words, you want a man made right again as to his rational
+power of self-control, by which he becomes master of himself in all
+the degrees of his life, from the highest to the lowest."
+
+"All very well," remarked Dr. Hillhouse, who had joined them while
+Mr. Elliott was speaking. "But, in my experience, the rational
+self-control of which you speak is one of the rarest things to be
+met with in common life, and it may be fair to conclude that the man
+who cannot exercise it before a dangerous habit has been formed will
+not be very likely to exercise it afterward when anything is done to
+favor that habit. Habits, Mr. Elliott, are dreadful hard things to
+manage, and I do not know a harder one to deal with than the habit
+of over-indulgence in wine or spirits. I should be seriously afraid
+of your prescription. The temperate use of wine I hold to be good;
+but for those who have once lost the power of controlling their
+appetites I am clear in my opinion there is only one way of safety,
+and that is the way of entire abstinence from any drink in which
+there is alcohol, call it by what name you will; and this is the
+view now held by the most experienced and intelligent men, in our
+profession."
+
+A movement in the company being observed, Mr. Elliott, instead of
+replying, stepped toward a lady, and asked the pleasure of escorting
+her to the supper-room. Dr. Hillhouse was equally courteous, and Mr.
+Ridley, seeing the wife of General Logan, whom he had often met in
+Washington, standing a little way off, passed to her side and
+offered his arm, which was accepted.
+
+There was a crowd and crush upon the stairs, fine gentlemen and
+ladies seeming to forget their courtesy and good breeding in their
+haste to be among the earliest who should reach the banqueting-hall.
+This was long and spacious, having been planned by Mr. Birtwell with
+a view to grand entertainments like the one he was now giving. In an
+almost incredibly short space of time it was filled to suffocation.
+Those who thought themselves among the first to move were surprised
+to find the tables already surrounded by young men and women, who
+had been more interested in the status of the supper-room than in
+the social enjoyments of the parlors, and who had improved their
+advanced state of observation by securing precedence of the rest,
+and stood waiting for the signal to begin.
+
+Mr. Birtwell had a high respect for the Church, and on an occasion
+like this could do no less than honor one of its dignitaries by
+requesting him to ask a blessing on the sumptuous repast he had
+provided--on the rich food and the good wine and brandy he was about
+dispensing with such a liberal hand. So, in the waiting pause that
+ensued after the room was well filled, Mr. Elliott was called upon
+to bless this feast, which he did in a raised, impressive and finely
+modulated voice. Then came the rattle of plates and the clink of
+glasses, followed by the popping of champagne and the multitudinous
+and distracting Babel of tongues.
+
+Mr. Ridley, who felt much inclined to favor the superficial and
+ill-advised utterances of Mr. Elliott, took scarcely any heed of
+what Dr. Hillhouse had replied. In fact, knowing that the doctor was
+free with wine himself, he did not give much weight to what he said,
+feeling that he was talking more for argument's sake than to express
+his real sentiments.
+
+A feeling of repression came over Mr. Ridley as he entered the
+supper-room and his eyes ran down the table. Half of this sumptuous
+feast was forbidden enjoyment. He must not taste the wine. All were
+free but him. He could fill a glass for the elegant lady whose hand
+was still upon his arm, but must not pledge her back except in
+water. A sense of shame and humiliation crept into his heart. So he
+felt when, in the stillness that fell upon the company, the voice of
+Mr. Elliott rose in blessing on the good things now spread for them
+in such lavish profusion. Only one sentence took hold on, Mr.
+Ridley's mind. It was this: "Giver of all natural as well as
+spiritual good things, of the corn and the wine equally with the
+bread and the water of life, sanctify these bounties that come from
+thy beneficent hand, and keep us from any inordinate or hurtful use
+thereof."
+
+Mr. Ridley drew a deeper breath. A load seemed taken from his bosom.
+He felt a sense of freedom and safety. If the wine were pure, it was
+a good gift of God, and could not really do him harm. A priest,
+claiming to stand as God's representative among men, had invoked a
+blessing on this juice of the grape, and given it by this act a
+healthier potency. All this crowded upon him, stifling reason and
+experience and hushing the voice of prudence.
+
+And now, alas! he was as a feather on the surface of a wind-struck
+lake, and given up to the spirit and pressure of the hour. The
+dangerous fallacy to which Mr. Elliott had given utterance held his
+thoughts to the exclusion of all other considerations. A clear path
+out of the dreary wilderness in which he had been, straying seemed
+to open before him, and he resolved to walk therein. Fatal delusion!
+
+As soon as Mr. Ridley had supplied Mrs. General Locran with terrapin
+and oysters and filled a plate for himself, he poured out two
+glasses of wine and handed one of them to the lady, then, lifting
+the other, he bowed a compliment and placed it to his lips. The lady
+smiled on him graciously, sipping the wine and praising its flavor.
+
+"Pure as nectar," was the mental response of Mr. Ridley as the
+long-denied palate felt the first thrill of sweet satisfaction. He
+had taken a single mouthful, but another hand seemed to grasp the
+one that held the cup of wine and press it back to his lips, from
+which it was not removed until empty.
+
+The prescription of Mr. Elliott failed. Either the wine was not pure
+or his theory was at fault. It was but little over an hour from the
+fatal moment when Mr. Ridley put a glass of wine to his lips ere he
+went out alone into the storm of a long-to-be-remembered night in a
+state of almost helpless intoxication, and staggered off in the
+blinding snow that soon covered his garments like a winding sheet.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE nurse of Mrs. Ridley had found her in a nervous chill, at which
+she was greatly troubled. More clothing was laid upon the bed, and
+bottles of hot water placed to her feet. To all this Mrs. Ridley
+made no objection--remained, in fact, entirely passive and
+irresponsive, like one in a partial stupor, from which she did not,
+to all appearance, rally even after the chill had subsided.
+
+She lay with her eyes shut, her lips pressed together and her
+forehead drawn into lines, and an expression of pain on her face,
+answering only in dull monosyllables to the inquiries made every now
+and then by her nurse, who hovered about the bed and watched over
+her with anxious solicitude.
+
+As she feared, fever symptoms began to show themselves. The evening
+had worn away, and it was past ten o'clock. It would not do to wait
+until morning in a case like this, and so a servant was sent to the
+office of Dr. Hillhouse, with a request that he would come
+immediately. She returned saying that the doctor was not at home.
+
+Mrs. Ridley lay with her eyes shut, but the nurse knew by the
+expression of her face that she was not asleep. The paleness of her
+countenance had given way to a fever hue, and she noticed occasional
+restless movements of the hands, twitches of the eyelids and nervous
+starts. To her questions the patient gave no satisfactory answers.
+
+An hour elapsed, and still the doctor did not make his appearance.
+The servant was called and questioned. She was positive about having
+left word for the doctor to come immediately on returning home.
+
+"Is that snow?" inquired Mrs. Ridley, starting up in bed and
+listening. The wind had risen suddenly and swept in a gusty dash
+against the windows, rattling on the glass the fine hard grains
+which had been falling for some time.
+
+She remained leaning on her arm and listening for some moments,
+while an almost frightened look came into her face.
+
+"What time is it?" she asked.
+
+"After eleven o'clock," replied the nurse.
+
+All at once the storm seemed to have awakened into a wild fury. More
+loudly it rushed and roared and dashed its sand-like snow against
+the windows of Mrs. Ridley's chamber. The sick woman shivered and
+the fever-flush died out of her face.
+
+"You must lie down!" said the nurse, speaking with decision and
+putting her hands on Mrs. Ridley to press her back. But the latter
+resisted.
+
+"Indeed, indeed, ma'am," urged the nurse, showing great anxiety,
+"you must lie down and keep covered up in bed. It might be the death
+of you."
+
+"Oh, that's awful!" exclaimed Mrs. Ridley as the wind went howling
+by and the snow came in heavier gusts against the windows. "Past
+eleven, did you say?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, and the doctor ought to have been here long ago. I
+wonder why he doesn't come?"
+
+"Hark! wasn't that our bell?" cried Mrs. Ridley, bending forward in
+a listening attitude.
+
+The nurse opened the chamber door and stood hearkening for a moment
+or two. Not hearing the servant stir, she ran quickly down stairs to
+the street door and drew it open, but found no one.
+
+There was a look of suspense and fear in Mrs. Ridley's face when the
+nurse came back:
+
+"Who was it?"
+
+"No one," replied the nurse. "The wind deceived you."
+
+A groan came from Mrs. Ridley's lips as she sank down upon the bed,
+where, with her face hidden, she lay as still as if sleeping. She
+did not move nor speak for the space of more than half an hour, and
+all the while her nurse waited and listened through the weird,
+incessant noises of the storm for the coming of Dr. Hillhouse, but
+waited and listened in vain.
+
+All at once, as if transferred to within a few hundred rods of these
+anxious watchers, the great clock of the city, which in the still
+hours of a calm night could be heard ringing out clear but afar off,
+threw a resonant clang upon the air, pealing the first stroke of the
+hour of twelve. Mrs. Ridley started up in bed with a scared look on
+her face. Away the sound rolled, borne by the impetuous wind-wave
+that had caught it up as the old bell shivered it off, and carried
+it away so swiftly that it seemed to die almost in the moment it was
+born. The listeners waited, holding their breaths. Then, swept from
+the course this first peal had taken, the second came to their ears
+after a long interval muffled and from a distance, followed almost
+instantly by the third, which went booming past them louder than the
+first. And so, with strange intervals and variations of time and
+sound as the wind dashed wildly onward or broke and swerved from its
+course, the noon of night was struck, and the silence that for a
+brief time succeeded left a feeling of awe upon the hearts of these
+lonely women.
+
+To the ears of another had come these strange and solemn tones,
+struck out at midnight away up in the clear rush of the tempest, and
+swept away in a kind of mad sport, and tossed about in the murky
+sky. To the ears of another, who, struggling and battling with the
+storm, had made his way with something of a blind instinct to within
+a short distance of his home, every stroke of the clock seemed to
+come from a different quarter; and when the last peal rang out, it
+left him in helpless bewilderment. When he staggered on again, it
+was in a direction opposite to that in which he had been going. For
+ten minutes he wrought with the blinding and suffocating snow,
+which, turn as he would, the wind kept dashing into his face, and
+then his failing limbs gave out and he sunk benumbed with cold upon
+the pavement. Half buried in the snow, he was discovered soon
+afterward and carried to a police station, where he found himself
+next morning in one of the cells, a wretched, humiliated, despairing
+man.
+
+"Why, Mr. Ridley! It can't be possible!" It was the exclamation of
+the police magistrate when this man was brought, soon after
+daylight, before him.
+
+Ridley stood dumb in presence of the officer, who was touched by the
+helpless misery of his face.
+
+"You were at Mr. Birtwell's?"
+
+Ridley answered by a silent inclination of his head.
+
+"I do not wonder," said the magistrate, his voice softening, "that,
+you lost your way in the storm last night. You are not the only one
+who found himself astray and at fault. Our men had to take care of
+quite a number of Mr. Birtwell's guests. But I will not detain you,
+Mr. Ridley. I am sorry this has happened. You must be more careful
+in future."
+
+With slow steps and bowed head Mr. Ridley left the station-house and
+took his way homeward. How could he meet his wife? What of her? How
+had she passed the night? Vividly came up the parting scene as she
+lay with her babe, only a few days old, close against her bosom, her
+tender eyes, in which he saw shadows of fear, fixed lovingly upon
+his face.
+
+He had promised to be home soon, and had said a fervent "God bless
+you!" as he left a kiss warm upon her lips.
+
+And now! He stood still, a groan breaking on the air. Go home! How
+could he look into the face of his wife again? She had walked with
+him through the valley of humiliation in sorrow and suffering and
+shame for years, and now, after going up from this valley and
+bearing her to a pleasant land of hope and happiness, he had plunged
+down madly. Then a sudden fear smote his heart. She was in no
+condition to bear a shock such as his absence all night must have
+caused. The consequences might be fatal. He started forward at a
+rapid pace, hurrying along until he came in sight of his house. A
+carriage stood at the door. What could this mean?
+
+Entering, he was halfway up stairs when, the nurse met him.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Ridley," she exclaimed, "why did you stay away all night?
+Mrs. Ridley has been so ill, and I couldn't get the doctor. Oh, sir,
+I don't know what will come of it. She's in a dreadful way--out of
+her head. I sent for Dr. Hillhouse last night, but he didn't come."
+
+She spoke in a rapid manner, showing much alarm and agitation.
+
+"Is Dr. Hillhouse here now?" asked Mr. Ridley, trying to repress his
+feelings.
+
+"No, sir. He sent Dr. Angier, but I don't trust much in him. Dr.
+Hillhouse ought to see her right away. But you do look awful, sir!"
+
+The nurse fixed her eyes upon him in a half-wondering stare.
+
+Mr. Ridley broke from her, and passing up the stairs in two or three
+long strides, made his way to the bath-room, where in a few moments
+he changed as best he could his disordered appearance, and then
+hurried to his wife's chamber.
+
+A wild cry of joy broke from her lips as she saw him enter; but when
+he came near, she put up her hands and shrunk away from him, saying
+in a voice that fairly wailed, it was so full of disappointment:
+
+"I thought it was Ralph--my dear, good Ralph! Why don't he come
+home?"
+
+Her cheeks were red with fever and her eyes bright and shining. She
+had started up in bed on hearing her husband's step, but now shrunk
+down under the clothing and turned her face away.
+
+"Blanche! Blanche!" Mr. Ridley called the name of his wife tenderly
+as he stood leaning over her.
+
+Moving her head slowly, like one in doubt, she looked at him in a
+curious, questioning way. Then, closing her eyes, she turned her
+face from him again.
+
+"Blanche! Blanche!" For all the response that came, Mr. Ridley might
+as well have spoken to deaf ears. Dr. Angier laid his hand on his
+arm and drew him away:
+
+"She must have as little to disturb her as possible, Mr. Ridley. The
+case is serious."
+
+"Where is Dr. Hillhouse? Why did not he come?" demanded Mr. Ridley.
+
+"He will be here after a while. It is too early for him," replied
+Dr. Angier.
+
+"He must come now. Go for him at once, doctor."
+
+"If you say so," returned Doctor Angier, with some coldness of
+manner; "but I cannot tell how soon he will be here. He does not go
+out until after eight or nine o'clock, and there are two or three
+pressing cases besides this."
+
+"I will go," said Mr. Ridley. "Don't think me rude or uncourteous,
+Dr. Angier. I am like one distracted. Stay here until I get back. I
+will bring Dr. Hillhouse."
+
+"Take my carriage--it is at the door; and say to Dr. Hillhouse from
+me that I would like him to come immediately," Dr. Angier replied to
+this.
+
+Mr. Ridley ran down stairs, and springing into the carriage, ordered
+the driver to return with all possible speed to the office. Dr.
+Hillhouse was in bed, but rose on getting the summons from Dr.
+Angier and accompanied Mr. Ridley. He did not feel in a pleasant
+humor. The night's indulgence in wine and other allurements of the
+table had not left his head clear nor his nerves steady for the
+morning. A sense of physical discomfort made him impatient and
+irritable. At first all the conditions of this case were not clear
+to him; but as his thought went back to the incidents of the night,
+and he remembered not only seeing Mr. Ridley in considerable
+excitement from drink, but hearing it remarked upon by one or two
+persons who were familiar with his life at Washington, the truth
+dawned upon his mind, and he said abruptly, with considerable
+sternness of manner and in a quick voice:
+
+"At what time did you get home last night?"
+
+Ridley made no reply.
+
+"Or this morning? It was nearly midnight when _I_ left, and you were
+still there, and, I am sorry to say, not in the best condition for
+meeting a sick wife at home. If there is anything seriously wrong in
+this case, the responsibility lies, I am afraid, at your door, sir."
+
+They were in the carriage, moving rapidly. Mr. Ridley sat-with his
+head drawn down and bent a little forward; not answering, Dr.
+Hillhouse said no more. On arriving at Mr. Ridley's residence, he
+met Dr. Angier, with whom he held a brief conference before seeing
+his patient. He found her in no favorable condition. The fever was
+not so intense as Dr. Angier had found it on his arrival, but its
+effect on the brain was more marked.
+
+"Too much time has been lost." Dr. Hillhouse spoke aside to his
+assistant a's they sat together watching carefully every symptom of
+their patient.
+
+"I sent for you before ten o'clock last night," said the nurse, who
+overheard the remark and wished to screen herself from any blame.
+
+Dr. Hillhouse did not reply.
+
+"I knew there was danger," pursued the nurse. "Oh, doctor, if you
+had only come when I sent for you! I waited and waited until after
+midnight."
+
+The doctor growled an impatient response, but so muttered and
+mumbled the words that the nurse could not make them out. Mr. Ridley
+was in the room, standing with folded arms a little way from the
+bed, stern and haggard, with wild, congested eyes and closely shut
+mouth, a picture of anguish, fear and remorse.
+
+The two physicians remained with Mrs. Ridley for over twenty minutes
+before deciding on their line of treatment. A prescription was then
+made, and careful instructions given to the nurse.
+
+"I will call again in the course of two or three hours," said Dr.
+Hillhouse, on going away. "Should any thing unfavorable occur, send
+to the office immediately."
+
+"Doctor!" Mr. Ridley laid his hand on the arm of Dr. Hillhouse.
+"What of my wife?" There was a frightened look in his pale, agitated
+face. His voice shook.
+
+"She is in danger," replied the doctor.
+
+"But you know what to do? You can control the disease? You have had
+such cases before?"
+
+"I will do my best," answered the doctor, trying to move on; but Mr.
+Ridley clutched his arm tightly and held him fast:
+
+"Is it--is it--puer-p-p--" His voice shook so that he could not
+articulate the word that was on his tongue.
+
+"I am afraid so," returned the doctor.
+
+A deep groan broke from the lips of Mr. Ridley. His hand dropped
+from the arm of Dr. Hillhouse and he stood trembling from head to
+foot, then cried out in a voice of unutterable despair:
+
+"From heaven down to hell in one wild leap! God help me!"
+
+Dr. Hillhouse was deeply moved at this. He had felt stern and angry,
+ready each moment to accuse and condemn, but the intense emotion
+displayed by the husband shocked, subdued and changed his tone of
+feeling.
+
+"You must calm, yourself, my dear sir," he said. "The case looks
+bad, but I have seen recovery in worse cases than this. We will do
+our best. But remember that you have duties and responsibilities
+that must not fail."
+
+"Whatsoever in me lies, doctor," answered Mr. Ridley, with a sudden
+calmness that seemed supernatural, "you may count on my doing. If
+she dies, I am lost." There was a deep solemnity in his tones as he
+uttered this last sentence. "You see, sir," he added, "what I have
+at stake."
+
+"Just for the present little more can be done than to follow the
+prescriptions we have given and watch their effect on the patient,"
+returned Dr. Hillhouse. "If any change occurs, favorable or
+unfavorable, let us know. If your presence in her room should excite
+or disturb her in any way, you must prudently abstain from going
+near her."
+
+The two physicians went away with but little hope in their hearts
+for the sick woman. Whatever the exciting cause or causes might have
+been, the disease which had taken hold of her with unusual violence
+presented already so fatal a type that the issue was very doubtful.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+
+
+
+"IT is too late, I am afraid," said Dr. Hillhouse as the two
+physicians rode away, "The case ought to have been seen last night.
+I noticed the call when I came home from Mr. Birtwell's, but the
+storm was frightful, and I did not feel like going out again. In
+fact, if the truth must be told, I hardly gave the matter a thought.
+I saw the call, but its importance did not occur to me. Late hours,
+suppers and wine do not always leave the head as clear as it should
+be."
+
+"I do not like the looks of things," returned Dr. Angier. "All the
+symptoms are bad."
+
+"Yes, very bad. I saw Mrs. Ridley yesterday morning, and found her
+doing well. No sign of fever or any functional disturbance. She must
+have had some shock or exposure to cold."
+
+"Her husband was out all night. I learned that much from the nurse,"
+replied Dr. Angier. "When the storm became violent, which was soon
+after ten o'clock, she grew restless and disturbed, starting up and
+listening as the snow dashed on the windowpanes and the wind roared
+angrily. 'I could not keep her down,' said the nurse. 'She would
+spring up in bed, throw off the clothes and sit listening, with a
+look of anxiety and dread on her face. The wind came in through
+every chink and crevice, chilling the room in spite of all I could
+do to keep it warm. I soon saw, from the color that began coming
+into her face and from the brightness in her eyes, that fever had
+set in. I was alarmed, and sent for the doctor.'"
+
+"And did this go on all night?" asked Dr. Hillhouse.
+
+"Yes. She never closed her eyes except in intervals of feverish
+stupor, from which she would start up and cry out for her husband,
+who was, she imagined, in some dreadful peril."
+
+"Bad! bad!" muttered Dr. Hillhouse. "There'll be a death, I fear,
+laid at Mr. Birtwell's door."
+
+"I don't understand you," said his companion, in a tone of surprise.
+
+"Mr. Ridley, as I have been informed," returned Dr. Hillhouse, "has
+been an intemperate man. After falling very low, he made an earnest
+effort to reform, and so far got the mastery of his appetite as to
+hold it in subjection. Such men are always in danger, as you and I
+very well know. In nine cases out of ten--or, I might say, in
+ninety-nine cases in a hundred--to taste again is to fall. It is
+like cutting the chain that holds a wild beast. The bound but not
+dead appetite springs into full vigor again, and surprised
+resolution is beaten down and conquered. To invite such a man to, an
+entertainment where wines and liquors are freely dispensed is to put
+a human soul in peril."
+
+"Mr. Birtwell may not have known anything about him," replied Dr.
+Angier.
+
+"All very true. But there is one thing he did know."
+
+"What?"
+
+"That he could not invite a company of three hundred men and women
+to his house, though he selected them from the most refined and
+intelligent circles in our city, and give them intoxicating drinks
+as freely as he did last night, without serious harm. In such
+accompany there will be some, like Mr. Ridley, to whom the cup of
+wine offered in hospitality will be a cup of cursing. Good
+resolutions will be snapped like thread in a candle-flame, and men
+who came sober will go away, as from any other drinking-saloon,
+drunk, as he went out last night."
+
+"Drinking-saloon! You surprise me, doctor."
+
+"I feel bitter this morning; and when the bitterness prevails, I am
+apt to call things by strong names. Yes, I say drinking-saloon,
+Doctor Angier. What matters it in the dispensation whether you give
+away or sell the liquor, whether it be done over a bar or set out
+free to every guest in a merchant's elegant banqueting-room? The one
+is as much a liquor-saloon as the other. Men go away from one, as
+from the other, with heads confused and steps unsteady and good
+resolutions wrecked by indulgence. Knowing that such things must
+follow; that from every fashionable entertainment some men, and
+women too, go away weaker and in more danger than when they came;
+that boys and young men are tempted to drink and the feet of some
+set in the ways of ruin; that health is injured and latent diseases
+quickened into force; that evil rather than good flows from
+them,--knowing all this, I say, can any man who so turns his house,
+for a single evening, into a drinking-saloon--I harp on the words,
+you see, for I am feeling bitter--escape responsibility? No man goes
+blindly in this way."
+
+"Taking your view of the case," replied Dr. Angier, "there may be
+another death laid at the door of Mr. Birtwell."
+
+"Whose?" Dr. Hillhouse turned quickly to his assistant. They had
+reached home, and were standing in their office.
+
+"Nothing has been heard of Archie Voss since he left Mr. Birtwell's
+last night, and his poor mother is lying insensible, broken down by
+her fears."
+
+"Oh, what of her? I was called for in the night, and you went in my
+place."
+
+"I found Mrs. Voss in a state of coma, from which she had only
+partially recovered when I left at daylight. Mr. Voss is in great
+anxiety about his son, who has never stayed away all night before,
+except with the knowledge of his parents."
+
+"Oh, that will all come right," said Dr. Hillhouse. "The young man
+went home, probably, with some friend. Had too much to drink, it may
+be, and wanted to sleep it off before coming into his mother's
+pressence."
+
+"There is no doubt about his having drank too much," returned Dr.
+Angier. "I saw him going along the hall toward the street door in
+rather a bad way. He had his overcoat on and his hat in his hand."
+
+"Was any one with him?"
+
+"I believe not. I think he went out alone."
+
+"Into that dreadful storm?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The countenance of Dr. Hillhouse became very grave:
+
+"And has not been heard of since?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Have the police been informed about it?"
+
+"Yes. The police have had the matter in hand for several hours, but
+at the time I left not the smallest clue had been found."
+
+"Rather a bad look," said Dr. Hillhouse. "What does Mr. Voss say
+about it?"
+
+"His mind seems to dwell on two theories--one that Archie, who had a
+valuable diamond pin and a gold watch, may have wandered into some
+evil neighborhood, bewildered by the storm, and there been set upon
+and robbed--murdered perhaps. The other is that he has fallen in
+some out-of-the-way place, overcome by the cold, and lies buried in
+the snow. The fact that no police-officer reports having seen him or
+any one answering to his description during the night awakens the
+gravest fears."
+
+"Still," replied Dr. Hillhouse, "it may all come out right. He may
+have gone to a hotel. There are a dozen theories to set against
+those of his friends."
+
+After remaining silent for several moments, he said:
+
+"The boy had been drinking too much?"
+
+"Yes; and I judge from, his manner, when I saw him on his way to the
+street, that he was conscious of his condition and ashamed of it. He
+went quietly along, evidently trying not to excite observation, but
+his steps were unsteady and his sight not true, for in trying to
+thread his way along the hall he ran against one and another, and
+drew the attention he was seeking to avoid."
+
+"Poor fellow!" said Dr. Hillhouse, with genuine pity. "He was always
+a nice boy. If anything has happened to him, I wouldn't give a dime
+for the life of his mother."
+
+"Nor I. And even as it is, the shock already received may prove
+greater than her exhausted system can bear. I think you had better
+see her, doctor, as early as possible."
+
+"There were no especially bad symptoms when you left, beyond the
+state of partial coma?"
+
+"No. Her respiration had become easy, and she presented the
+appearance of one in a quiet sleep."
+
+"Nature is doing all for her that can be done," returned Dr.
+Hillhouse. "I will see her as early as practicable. It's unfortunate
+that we have these two cases on our hands just at this time, and
+most unfortunate of all that I should have been compelled to go out
+so early this morning. That doesn't look right."
+
+And the doctor held up his hand, which showed a nervous
+unsteadiness.
+
+"It will pass off after you have taken breakfast."
+
+"I hope so. Confound these parties! I should not have gone last
+night, and if I'd given the matter due consideration would have
+remained at home."
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"You know what that means as well as I do;" and Dr. Hillhouse held
+up his tremulous hand again. "We can't take wine freely late at
+night and have our nerves in good order next morning. A life may
+depend on a steady hand to-day."
+
+"It will all pass off at breakfast-time. Your good cup of coffee
+will make everything all right."
+
+"Perhaps yea, perhaps nay," was answered. "I forgot myself last
+night, and accepted too many wine compliments. It was first this one
+and then that one, until, strong as my head is, I got more into it
+than should have gone there. We are apt to forget ourselves on these
+occasions. If I had only taken a glass or two, it would have made
+little difference. But my system was stimulated beyond its wont,
+and, I fear, will not be in the right tone to-day."
+
+"You will have to bring it up, then, doctor," said the assistant.
+"To touch that work with an unsteady hand might be death."
+
+"A glass or two of wine will do it; but when I operate, I always
+prefer to have my head clear. Stimulated nerves are not to be
+depended upon, and the brain that has wine in it is never a sure
+guide. A surgeon must see at the point of his instrument; and if
+there be a mote or any obscurity in his mental vision, his hand,
+instead of working a cure, may bring disaster."
+
+"You operate at twelve?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You will be all right enough by that time; but it will not do to
+visit many patients. I am sorry about this case of child-bed fever;
+but I will see it again immediately after breakfast, and report."
+
+While they were still talking the bell rang violently, and in a few
+moments Mr. Ridley came dashing into the office. His face wore a
+look of the deepest distress.
+
+"Oh, doctor, he exclaimed can't you do something for my wife? She'll
+die if you don't. Oh, do go to her again!"
+
+"Has any change taken place since we left?" asked Dr. Hillhouse,
+with a professional calmness it required some effort to assume.
+
+"She is in great distress, moaning and sobbing and crying out as if
+in dreadful pain, and she doesn't know anything you say to her."
+
+The two physicians looked at each other with sober faces.
+
+"You'd better see her again," said Dr. Hillhouse, speaking to his assistant.
+
+"No, no, no, Dr. Hillhouse! You must see her yourself. It is a case
+of life and death!" cried out the distracted husband. "The
+responsibility is yours, and I must and will hold you to that
+responsibility. I placed my wife in your charge, not in that of this
+or any other man."
+
+Mr. Ridley was beside himself with fear. At first Dr. Hillhouse felt
+like resenting this assault, but he controlled himself.
+
+"You forget yourself, Mr. Ridley," he answered in a repressed voice.
+"We do not help things by passion or intemperance of language. I saw
+your wife less than half an hour ago, and after giving the utmost
+care to the examination of her case made the best prescription in my
+power. There has not been time for the medicines to act yet. I know
+how troubled you must feel, and can pardon your not very courteous
+bearing; but there are some things that can and some things that
+cannot be done. There are good reasons why it will not be right for
+me to return to your house now--reasons affecting the safety, it may
+be the life, of another, while my not going back with you can make
+no difference to Mrs. Ridley. Dr. Angier is fully competent to
+report on her condition, and I can decide on any change of treatment
+that may be required as certainly as if I saw her myself. Should he
+find any change for the worse, I will consider it my duty to see her
+without delay."
+
+"Don't neglect her, for God's sake, doctor!" answered Mr. Ridley, in
+a pleading voice. His manner had grown subdued. "Forgive my seeming
+discourtesy. I am wellnigh distracted. If I lose her, I lose my hold
+on everything. Oh, doctor, you cannot know how much is at stake. God
+help me if she dies!"
+
+"My dear sir, nothing in our power to do shall be neglected. Dr.
+Angier will go back with you; and if, on his return, I am satisfied
+that there is a change for the worse, I will see your wife without a
+moment's delay. And in the mean time, if you wish to call in another
+physician, I shall be glad to have you do so. Fix the time for
+consultation at any hour before half-past ten o'clock, and I will
+meet him. After that I shall be engaged professionally for two or
+three hours."
+
+Dr. Angier returned with Mr. Ridley, and Dr. Hillhouse went to his
+chamber to make ready for breakfast. His hands were so unsteady as
+he made his toilette for the day that, in the face of what he had
+said to his assistant only a little while before, he poured himself
+a glass of wine and drank it off, remarking aloud as he did so, as
+if apologizing for the act to some one invisibly present:
+
+"I can't let this go on any longer."
+
+The breakfast-bell rang, and the doctor sat down to get the better
+nerve-sustainer of a good meal. But even as he reached his hand for
+the fragrant coffee that his wife had poured for him, he felt a
+single dull throb in one of his temples, and knew too well its
+meaning. He did not lift the coffee to his mouth, but sat with a
+grave face and an unusually quiet manner. He had made a serious
+mistake, and he knew it. That glass of wine had stimulated the
+relaxed nerves of his stomach too suddenly, and sent a shock to the
+exhausted brain. A slight feeling of nausea was perceived and then
+came another throb stronger than the first, and with a faint
+suggestion of pain. This was followed by a sense of physical
+depression and discomfort.
+
+"What's the matter, doctor?" asked his wife, who saw something
+unusual in his manner.
+
+"A feeling here that I don't just like," he replied, touching his
+temple with a finger.
+
+"Not going to have a headache?"
+
+"I trust not. It would be a bad thing for me today."
+
+He slowly lifted his cup of coffee and sipped a part of it.
+
+"Late suppers and late hours may do for younger people," said Mrs.
+Hillhouse. "_I_ feel wretched this morning, and am not surprised
+that your nerves are out of order, nor that you should be threatened
+with headache."
+
+The doctor did not reply. He sipped his coffee again, but without
+apparent relish, and, instead of eating anything, sat in an
+unusually quiet manner and with a very sober aspect of countenance.
+
+"I don't want a mouthful of breakfast," said Mrs. Hillhouse, pushing
+away her plate.
+
+"Nor I," replied the doctor; "but I can't begin to-day on an empty
+stomach."
+
+And he tried to force himself to take food, but made little progress
+in the effort.
+
+"It's dreadful about Archie Voss," said Mrs. Hillhouse.
+
+"Oh he'll come up all right," returned her husband, with some
+impatience in his voice.
+
+"I hope so. But if he were my son, I'd rather see him in his grave
+than as I saw him last night."
+
+"It's very easy to talk in that way; but if Archie were your son,
+you'd not be very long in choosing between death and a glass or two
+of wine more than he had strength to carry."
+
+"If he were my son," replied the doctor's wife, "I would do all in
+my power to keep him away from entertainments where liquor is served
+in such profusion. The danger is too great."
+
+"He would have to take his chances with the rest," replied the
+doctor. "All that we could possibly do would be to teach him
+moderation and self-denial."
+
+"If there is little moderation and self-denial among the full-grown
+men and women who are met on these occasions, what can be expected
+from lads and young men?"
+
+The doctor shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply.
+
+"We cannot shut our eyes to the fact," continued his wife, "that
+this free dispensation of wine to old and young is an evil of great
+magnitude, and that it is doing a vast amount of harm."
+
+The doctor still kept silent. He was not in a mood for discussing
+this or any other social question. His mind was going in another
+direction, and his thoughts were troubling him. Dr. Hillhouse was a
+surgeon of great experience, and known throughout the country for
+his successful operations in some of the most difficult and
+dangerous cases with which the profession has to deal. On this
+particular day, at twelve o'clock, he had to perform an operation of
+the most delicate nature, involving the life or death of a patient.
+
+He might well feel troubled, for he knew, from signs too well
+understood, that when twelve o'clock came, and his patient lay
+helpless and unconscious before him, his hand would not be steady
+nor his brain, clear. Healthy food would not restore the natural
+vigor which stimulation had weakened, for he had no appetite for
+food. His stomach turned away from it with loathing.
+
+By this time the throb in his temple had become a stroke of pain.
+While still sitting at the breakfast-table Dr. Angier returned from
+his visit to Mrs. Ridley. Dr. Hillhouse saw by the expression of his
+face that he did not bring a good report.
+
+"How is she?" he asked.
+
+"In a very bad way," replied Dr. Angier.
+
+"New symptoms?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Intense pain, rigors, hurried respiration and pulse up to a hundred
+and twenty. It looks like a case of puerperal peritonitis."
+
+Dr. Hillhouse started from the table; the trouble on his face grew
+deeper.
+
+"You had better see her with as little delay as possible," said Dr.
+Angier.
+
+"Did you make any new prescription?"
+
+"No."
+
+Dr. Hillhouse shut his lips tightly and knit his brows. He stood
+irresolute for several moments.
+
+"Most unfortunate!" he ejaculated. Then, going into his office, he
+rang the bell and ordered his carriage brought round immediately.
+
+Dr. Angier had made no exaggerated report of Mrs. Ridley's
+condition. Dr. Hillhouse found that serious complications were
+rapidly taking place, and that all the symptoms indicated
+inflammation of the peritoneum. The patient was in great pain,
+though with less cerebral disturbance than when he had seen her
+last. There was danger, and he knew it. The disease had taken on a
+form that usually baffles the skill of our most eminent physicians,
+and Dr. Hillhouse saw little chance of anything but a fatal
+termination. He could do nothing except to palliate as far as
+possible the patient's intense suffering and endeavor to check
+farther complications. But he saw little to give encouragement.
+
+Mr. Ridley, with pale, anxious face, and eyes in which, were
+pictured the unutterable anguish of his soul, watched Dr. Hillhouse
+as he sat by his wife's bedside with an eager interest and suspense
+that was painful to see. He followed him when he left the room, and
+his hand closed on his arm with a spasm as the door shut behind
+them.
+
+"How is she, doctor?" he asked, in a hoarse, panting whisper.
+
+"She is very sick, Mr. Ridley," replied Dr. Hillhouse. "It would be
+wrong to deceive you."
+
+The pale, haggard face of Mr. Ridley grew whiter.
+
+"Oh, doctor," he gasped, "can nothing be done?"
+
+"I think we had better call in another physician," replied the
+doctor. "In the multitude of counselors there is wisdom. Have you
+any choice?"
+
+But Mr. Ridley had none.
+
+"Shall it be Dr. Ainsworth? He has large experience in this class of
+diseases."
+
+"I leave it entirely with you, Dr. Hillhouse. Get the best advice
+and help the city affords, and for God's sake save my wife."
+
+The doctor went away, and Mr. Ridley, shaking with nervous tremors,
+dropped weak and helpless into a chair and bending forward until his
+head rested on his knees, sat crouching down, an image of suffering
+and despair.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+
+
+
+"ELLIS, my son."
+
+There was a little break and tremor in the voice. The young man
+addressed was passing the door of his mother's room, and paused on
+hearing his name.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, stepping inside and looking curiously into
+his mother's face, where he saw a more than usually serious
+expression.
+
+"Sit down, Ellis; I want to say a word to you before going to Mrs.
+Birtwell's."
+
+The lady had just completed her toilette, and was elegantly dressed
+for an evening party. She was a handsome, stately-looking woman,
+with dark hair through which ran many veins of silver, large,
+thoughtful eyes and a mouth of peculiar sweetness.
+
+The young man took a chair, and his mother seated herself in front
+of him.
+
+"Ellis."
+
+The tremor still remained in her voice.
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+The young man assumed a careless air, but was not at ease.
+
+"There is a good old adage, my son, the remembrance of which Has
+saved many a one in the hour of danger: _Forewarned, forearmed_."
+
+"Oh, then you think we are going into danger to-night?" he answered,
+in a light tone.
+
+"I am sorry to say that we are going where some will find themselves
+in great peril," replied the mother, her manner growing more
+serious; "and it is because of this that I wish to say a word or two
+now."
+
+"Very well, mother; say on."
+
+He moved uneasily in his chair, and showed signs of impatience.
+
+"You must take it kindly, Ellis, and remember that it is your mother
+who is speaking, your best and truest friend in all the world."
+
+"Good Heavens, mother! what are you driving at? One would think we
+were going into a howling wilderness, among savages and wild beasts,
+instead of into a company of the most cultured and refined people in
+a Christian city."
+
+"There is danger everywhere, my son," the mother replied, with
+increasing sobriety of manner, "and the highest civilization of the
+day has its perils as well as the lowest conditions of society. The
+enemy hides in ambush everywhere--in the gay drawing-room as well as
+in the meanest hovel."
+
+She paused, and mother and son looked into each other's faces in
+silence for several moments. Then the former said:
+
+"I must speak plainly, Ellis. You are not as guarded as you should
+be on these occasions. You take wine too freely."
+
+"Oh, mother!" His voice was, half surprised, half angry. A red flush
+mounted to cheeks and forehead. Rising, he walked the room in an
+agitated manner, and then came and sat down. The color had gone out
+of his face:
+
+"How could you say so, 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 turned with such proud
+anticipations. She was oppressed by a sense of humiliation. Her son
+had stepped down from his pedestal of dignified self-respect, and
+stood among the common herd of vulgar young men to whom in her eyes
+he had always been superior.
+
+But greater than her humiliation were the fears of Mrs. Whitford. A
+thoughtful and observant woman, she had reason for magnifying the
+dangers that lay in the path of her son. The curse of more than one
+member of both her own and husband's family had been intemperance.
+While still a young man her father had lost his self-control, and
+her memory of him was a shadow of pain and sorrow. He died at an
+early age, the victim of an insatiable and consuming desire for
+drink. Her husband's father had been what is called a "free
+liver"--that is, a man who gave free indulgence to his appetites,
+eating and drinking to excess, and being at all times more or less
+under the influence of wine or spirits.
+
+It was the hereditary taint that Mrs. Whitford dreaded. Here lay the
+ground of her deepest anxiety. She had heard and thought enough on
+this subject to know that parents transmit to their children an
+inclination to do the things they have done from habit--strong or
+weak, according to the power of the habit indulged. If the habit be
+an evil one, then the children are in more than common danger, and
+need the wisest care and protection. She knew, also, from reading
+and observation, that an evil habit of mind or body which did not
+show itself in the second generation would often be reproduced in
+the third, and assert a power that it required the utmost strength
+of will and the greatest watchfulness to subdue.
+
+And so, when her son, replying to her earnest warning, said, "I am
+in no danger. Set your heart at rest," she knew better--knew that a
+deadly serpent was in the path he was treading. And she answered him
+with increasing earnestness:
+
+"The danger may be far greater than you imagine, Ellis. It _is_
+greater than you imagine."
+
+Her voice changed as she uttered the last sentence into a tone that
+was almost solemn.
+
+"You are talking wildly," returned the young man, "and pay but a
+poor compliment to your son's character and strength of will. In
+danger of becoming a sot!--for that is what you mean. If you were
+not my mother, I should be angry beyond self-control."
+
+"Ellis," said Mrs. Whitford, laying her hand upon the arm of her son
+and speaking with slow impressiveness, "I am older than you are by
+nearly thirty years, have seen more of life than you have, _and know
+some things that you do not know._ I have your welfare at heart more
+deeply than any other being except God. I know you better in some
+things than you know yourself. Love makes me clear-seeing. And this
+is why I am in such earnest with you to-night. Ellis, I want a
+promise from you. I ask it in the name of all that is dearest to
+you--in my name--in the name of Blanche--in the name of God!"
+
+All the color had, gone out of Mrs. Whitford's face, and she stood
+trembling before her son.
+
+"You frighten me, mother," exclaimed the young man. "What do you
+mean by all this? Has any one been filling your mind with lies about
+me?"
+
+"No; none would dare speak to me of you in anything but praise, But
+I want you to promise to-night, Ellis. I must have that, and then my
+heart will be at ease. It will be a little thing for you, but for me
+rest and peace and confidence in the place of terrible anxieties."
+
+"Promise! What? Some wild fancies have taken hold of you."
+
+"No wild fancies, but a fear grounded in things of which I would not
+speak. Ellis, I want you to give up the use of wine."
+
+The young man did not answer immediately. All the nervous
+restlessness he had exhibited died out in a moment, and he stood
+very still, the ruddy marks of excitement going out of his face. His
+eyes were turned from his mother and cast upon the floor.
+
+"And so it has come to this," he said, huskily, and in a tone of
+humiliation. "My mother thinks me in danger of becoming a
+drunkard--thinks me so weak that I cannot be trusted to take even a
+glass of wine."
+
+"Ellis!" Mrs. Whitford again laid her hand upon the arm of her son.
+"Ellis," her voice had fallen to deep whisper, "if I must speak, I
+must. There are ancestors who leave fatal legacies to the
+generations that come after them, and you are one accursed by such a
+legacy. There is a taint in your blood, a latent fire that a spark
+may kindle into a consuming flame."
+
+She panted as she spoke with hurried utterance. "My father!"
+exclaimed the young man, with an indignant flash in his eyes.
+
+"No, no, no! I don't mean that. But there is a curse that descends
+to the third and fourth generation," replied Mrs. Whitford, "and you
+have the legacy of that curse. But it will be harmless unless with
+your own hand you drag it down, and this is why I ask you to abstain
+from wine. Others may be safe, but for you there is peril."
+
+"A scarecrow, a mere fancy, a figment of some fanatic's brain;" and
+Ellis Whitford rejected the idea in a voice full of contempt.
+
+But the pallor and solemnity of his mother's face warned him that
+such a treatment of her fears could not allay them. Moreover, the
+hint of ancestral disgrace had shocked his family pride.
+
+"A sad and painful truth," Mrs. Whitford returned, "and one that it
+will be folly for you to ignore. You do not stand in the same
+freedom in which many others stand. That is your misfortune. But you
+can no more disregard the fact than can one born with a hereditary
+taint of consumption in his blood disregard the loss of health and
+hope to escape the fatal consequences. There is for every one of us
+'a sin that doth easily beset,' a hereditary inclination that must
+be guarded and denied, or it will grow and strengthen until it
+becomes a giant to enslave us. Where your danger lies I have said;
+and if you would be safe, set bars and bolts to the door of
+appetite, and suffer not your enemy to cross the threshold, of
+life."
+
+Mrs. Whitford spoke with regaining calmness, but in tones of solemn
+admonition.
+
+A long silence followed, broken at length by the young man, who
+said, in a choking, depressed voice that betrayed a quaver of
+impatience:
+
+"I'm sorry for all this. That your fears are groundless I know, but
+you are none the less tormented by them. What am I to do? To spare
+you pain I would sacrifice almost anything, but this humiliation is
+more than I am strong enough to encounter. If, as you say, there has
+been intemperance in our family, it is not a secret locked up in
+your bosom. Society knows all about the ancestry of its members, who
+and what the fathers and grandfathers were, and we have not escaped
+investigation. Don't touch wine, you say. Very well. I go to Mrs.
+Birtwell's to-night. Young and old, men and women, all are
+partakers, but I stand aloof--I, of all the guests, refuse the
+hospitality I have pretended to accept. Can I do this without
+attracting attention or occasioning remark? No; and what will be
+said? Simply this--that I know my danger and am afraid; that there
+is in my blood the hereditary taint of drunkenness, and that I dare
+not touch a glass of wine. Mother, I am not strong enough to brave
+society on such an issue, and a false one at that. To fear and fly
+does not belong to my nature. A coward I despise. If there is danger
+in my way and it is right for me to go forward in that way, I will
+walk steadily on, and fight if I must. I am not a craven, but a man.
+If the taint of which you speak is in my blood, I will extinguish
+it. If I am in danger, I will not save myself by flight, but by
+conquest. The taint shall not go down to another generation; it
+shall be removed in this."
+
+He spoke with a fine enthusiasm kindling over his handsome face, and
+his mother's heart beat with a pride that for the moment was
+stronger than fear.
+
+"Ask of me anything except to give up my self-respect and my
+manliness," he added. "Say that you wish me to remain at home, and I
+will not go to the party."
+
+"No. I do not ask that. I wish you to go. But--"
+
+"If I go, I must do as the rest, and you must have faith in me.
+Forewarned, forearmed. I will heed your admonition."
+
+So the interview ended, and mother and son went to the grand
+entertainment at Mr. Birtwell's. Ellis did mean to heed his mother's
+admonition. What she had said, about the danger in which he stood
+had made a deeper impression on him than Mrs. Whitford thought. But
+he did not propose to heed by abstinence, but by moderation. He
+would be on guard and always ready for the hidden foe, if such a foe
+really existed anywhere but in his mother's fancy.
+
+"Ah, Mrs. Whitford! Glad to see you this evening;" and the Rev. Mr.
+Brantley Elliott gave the lady a graceful and cordial bow. "Had the
+pleasure of meeting your son a few moments ago--a splendid young
+man, if you will pardon me for saying so. How much a year has
+improved him!"
+
+Mrs. Whitford bowed her grateful acknowledgment.
+
+"Just been admitted to the bar, I learn," said Mr. Elliott.
+
+"Yes, sir. He has taken his start in life."
+
+"And will make his mark, or I am mistaken. You have reason to feel
+proud of him, ma'am."
+
+"That she has," spoke out Dr. Hillhouse, who came up at the moment.
+"When so many of our young men are content to be idle drones--to let
+their fathers achieve eminence or move the world by the force of
+thought and will--it is gratifying to see one of their number taking
+his place in the ranks and setting his face toward conquest. When
+the sons of two-thirds of our rich men are forgotten, or remembered
+only as idlers or nobodies, or worse, your son will stand among the
+men who leave their mark upon the generations."
+
+"If he escapes the dangers that lie too thickly in the way of all
+young men," returned Mrs. Whitford, speaking almost involuntarily of
+what was in her heart, and in a voice that betrayed more concern
+than she had meant to express.
+
+The doctor gave a little shrug, but replied:
+
+"His earnest purpose in life will be his protection, Mrs. Whitford.
+Work, ambition, devotion to a science or profession have in them an
+aegis of safety. The weak and the idle are most in danger."
+
+"It is wrong, I have sometimes thought," said Mrs. Whitford speaking
+both to the physician and the clergyman, "for society to set so many
+temptations before its young men--the seed, as some one has forcibly
+said, of the nation's future harvest."
+
+"Society doesn't care much for anything but its own gratification,"
+replied Dr. Hillhouse, "and says as plainly as actions can do it
+'After me the deluge.'"
+
+"Rather hard on society," remarked Mr. Elliott.
+
+"Now take, for instance, its drinking customs, its toleration and
+participation in the freest public and private dispensation of
+intoxicating liquors to all classes, weak or strong, young or old.
+Is there not danger in this--great danger? I think I understand you,
+Mrs. Whitford."
+
+"Yes, doctor, you understand me;" and dropping her voice to a lower
+tone, Mrs. Whitford added: "There are wives and mothers and sisters
+not a few here to-night whose hearts, though they may wear smiles on
+their faces, are ill at ease, and some of them will go home from
+these festivities sadder than when they came."
+
+"Right about that," said the doctor to himself as he turned away, a
+friend of Mrs. Whitford's having come up at the moment and
+interrupted the conversation--" right about that; and you, I greatly
+fear, will be one of the number."
+
+"Our friend isn't just herself to-night," remarked Mr. Elliott as he
+and Dr. Hillhouse moved across the room. "A little dyspeptic, maybe,
+and so inclined to look on the dark side of things. She has little
+cause, I should think, to be anxious for her own son or husband. I
+never saw Mr. Whitford the worse for wine; and as for Ellis, his
+earnest purpose in life, as you so well said just now, will hold him
+above the reach of temptation."
+
+"On the contrary, she has cause for great anxiety," returned Dr.
+Hillhouse.
+
+"You surprise me. What reason have you for saying this?"
+
+"A professional one--a reason grounded in pathology."
+
+"Ah?" and Mr. Elliott looked gravely curious.
+
+"The young man inherits, I fear, a depraved appetite."
+
+"Oh no. I happen to be too well acquainted with his father to accept
+that view of the case."
+
+"His father is well enough," replied Dr. Hillhouse, "but as much
+could not be said of either of his grandfathers while living. Both
+drank freely, and one of them died a confirmed drunkard."
+
+"If the depraved appetite has not shown itself in the children, it
+will hardly trouble the grandchildren," said Mr. Elliott. "Your fear
+is groundless, doctor. If Ellis were my son, I should feel no
+particular anxiety about him."
+
+"If he were your son," replied Dr. Hillhouse, "I am not so sure
+about your feeling no concern. Our personal interest in a thing is
+apt to give it a new importance. But you are mistaken as to the
+breaking of hereditary influences in the second generation. Often
+hereditary peculiarities will show themselves in the third and
+fourth generation. It is no uncommon thing to see the grandmother's
+red hair reappear in her granddaughter, though her own child's hair
+was as black as a raven's wing. A crooked toe, a wart, a
+malformation, an epileptic tendency, a swart or fair complexion, may
+disappear in all the children of a family, and show itself again in
+the grand-or great-grandchildren. Mental and moral conditions
+reappear in like manner. In medical literature we have many curious
+illustrations of this law of hereditary transmission and its strange
+freaks and anomalies."
+
+"They are among the curiosities of your literature," said Mr.
+Elliott, speaking as though not inclined to give much weight to the
+doctor's views--"the exceptional and abnormal things that come under
+professional notice."
+
+"The law of hereditary transmission," replied Dr. Hillhouse, "is as
+certain in its operation as the law of gravity. You may disturb or
+impede or temporarily suspend the law, but the moment you remove the
+impediment the normal action goes on, and the result is sure. Like
+produces like--that is the law. Always the cause is seen in the
+effect, and its character, quality and good or evil tendencies are
+sure to have a rebirth and a new life. It is under the action of
+this law that the child is cursed by the parent with the evil and
+sensual things he has made a part of himself through long
+indulgence."
+
+There came at this moment a raid upon Mr. Elliott by three or four
+ladies, members of his congregation, who surrounded him and Dr.
+Hillhouse, and cut short their conversation.
+
+Meanwhile, Ellis Whitford had already half forgotten his painful
+interview with his mother in the pleasure of meeting Blanche
+Birtwell, to whom he had recently become engaged. She was a pure and
+lovely young woman, inheriting her mother's personal beauty and
+refined tastes. She had been carefully educated and kept by her
+mother as much within the sphere of home as possible and out of
+society of the hoydenish girls who, moving in the so-called best
+circles, have the free and easy manners of the denizens of a public
+garden rather than the modest demeanor of unsullied maidenhood. She
+was a sweet exception to the loud, womanish, conventional girl we
+meet everywhere--on the street, in places, of public amusement and
+in the drawing-room--a fragrant human flower with the bloom of
+gentle girlhood on every unfolding leaf.
+
+It was no slender tie that bound these lovers together. They had
+moved toward each other, drawn by an inner attraction that was
+irresistible to each; and when heart touched heart, their pulses
+took a common beat. The life of each had become bound up in the
+other, and their betrothal was no mere outward contract. The manly
+intellect and the pure heart had recognized each other, tender love
+had lifted itself to noble thought, and thought had grown stronger
+and purer as it felt the warmth and life of a new and almost divine
+inspiration. Ellis Whitford had risen to a higher level by virtue of
+this betrothal.
+
+They were sitting in a bay-window, out of the crowd of guests, when
+a movement in the company was observed by Whitford. Knowing what it
+meant, he arose and offered his arm to Blanche. As he did so he
+became aware of a change in his companion, felt rather than seen;
+and yet, if he had looked closely into her face, a change in its
+expression would have been visible. The smile was still upon her
+beautiful lips, and the light and tenderness still in her eyes, but
+from both something had departed. It was as if an almost invisible
+film of vapor had drifted across the sun of their lives.
+
+In silence they moved on to the supper-room--moved with the light
+and heavy-hearted, for, as Dr. Hillhouse had intimated, there were
+some there to whom that supper-room was regarded with anxiety and
+fear--wives and mothers and sisters who knew, alas! too well that
+deadly serpents lie hidden among the flowers of every
+banqueting-room.
+
+How bright and joyous a scene it was! You did not see the trouble
+that lay hidden in so many hearts; the light and glitter, the flash
+and brilliancy, were too strong.
+
+Reader, did you ever think of the power of spheres? The influence
+that goes out from an individual or mass of individuals, we
+mean--that subtle, invisible power that acts from one upon another,
+and which when aggregated is almost irresistible? You have felt it
+in a company moved by a single impulse which carried you for a time
+with the rest, though all your calmer convictions were in opposition
+to the movement. It has kept you silent by its oppressive power when
+you should have spoken out in a ringing protest, and it has borne
+you away on its swift or turbulent current when you should have
+stood still and been true to right. Again, in the company of good
+and true men, moved by the inspiration of some noble cause, how all
+your weakness and hesitation has died out! and you have felt the
+influence of that subtle sphere to which we refer.
+
+Everywhere and at all times are we exposed to the action of these
+mental and moral spheres, which act upon and impress us in thousands
+of different ways, now carrying us along in some sudden public
+excitement in which passion drowns the voice of reason, and now
+causing us to drift in the wake of some stronger nature than our own
+whose active thought holds ours in a weak, assenting bondage.
+
+You understand what we mean. Now take the pervading sphere of an
+occasion like the one we are describing, and do you not see that to
+go against it is possible only to persons of decided convictions and
+strong individuality? The common mass of men and women are absorbed
+into or controlled by its subtle power. They can no more set
+themselves against it, if they would, than against the rush of a
+swiftly-flowing river. To the young it is irresistible.
+
+As Ellis Whitford, with Blanche leaning on his arm, gained the
+supper-room, he met the eyes of his mother, who was on the opposite
+side of the table, and read in them a sign of warning. Did it awaken
+a sense of danger and put him on his guard? No; it rather stirred a
+feeling of anger. Could she not trust him among gentlemen and
+ladies--not trust him with Blanche Birtwell by his side? It hurt his
+pride and wounded his self-esteem.
+
+He was in the sphere of liberty and social enjoyment and among those
+who did not believe that wine was a mocker, but something to make
+glad the heart and give joy to the countenance; and when it began to
+flow he was among the first to taste its delusive sweets. Blanche,
+for whom he poured a glass of champagne, took it from his hand, but
+with only half a smile on her lips, which was veiled by something so
+like pain or fear that Ellis felt as if the lights about him had
+suddenly lost a portion of their brilliancy. He stood holding his
+own glass, after just tasting its contents, waiting for Blanche to
+raise the sparkling liquor to her lips, but she seemed like one
+under the influence of a spell, not moving or responding.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+
+
+
+BLANCHE still held the untasted wine in her hand, when her father,
+who happened to be near, filled a glass, and said as he bowed to
+her:
+
+"Your good health, my daughter; and yours, Mr. Whitford," bowing to
+her companion also.
+
+The momentary spell was broken. Blanche smiled back upon her father
+and raised the glass to her lips. The lights in the room seemed to
+Ellis to flash up again and blaze with a higher brilliancy. Never
+had the taste of wine seemed more delicious. What a warm thrill ran
+along his nerves! What a fine exhilaration quickened in his brain!
+The shadow which a moment before had cast a veil over the face of
+Blanche he saw no longer. It had vanished, or his vision was not now
+clear enough to discern its subtle texture.
+
+"Take good care of Blanche," said Mr. Birtwell, in a light voice.
+"And you, pet, see that Mr. Whitford enjoys himself."
+
+Blanche did not reply. Her father turned away. Eyes not veiled as
+Whitford's now were would have seen that the filmy cloud which had
+come over her face a little while before was less transparent, and
+sensibly dimmed its brightness.
+
+Scarcely had Mr. Birtwell left them when Mr. Elliott, who had only a
+little while before heard of their engagement, said to Blanche in an
+undertone, and with one of his sweet paternal smiles:
+
+"I must take a glass of wine with you, dear, in, commemoration of
+the happy event."
+
+Mr. Elliott had not meant to include young Whitford in the
+invitation. The latter had spoken to a lady acquaintance who stood
+near him, and was saying a few words to her, thus disengaging
+Blanche. But observing that Mr. Elliott was talking to Blanche, he
+turned from the lady and joined her again. And, so Mr. Elliott had
+to say:
+
+"We are going to have a glass of wine in honor of the auspicious
+event."
+
+Three glasses were filled by the clergyman, and then he stood face
+to face with the young man and maiden, and each of them, as he said
+in a low, professional voice, meant for their ears alone, "Peace and
+blessing, my children!" drank to the sentiment. Whitford drained his
+glass, but Blanche only tasted the wine in hers.
+
+Mr. Elliott stood for a few moments, 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 speak to
+him.
+
+"Sensitive about proprieties," said the lady to herself, with some
+feeling, as she stood looking down the room to where Ellis Whitford
+in a group of young men and women was giving vent to his exuberant
+spirits more noisily than befitted the place and occasion. "Mr.
+Elliott calls things by dainty names."
+
+"I call that disgraceful," remarked an elderly lady, in a severe
+tone, as if replying to the other's thought.
+
+"Young men will become a little gay on these occasions," said the
+person to whom she had spoken, with some irony in her tone. "So Mr.
+Elliott says."
+
+"Mr. Elliott!" There was a tone of bitterness and rejection in the
+speaker's voice. "Mr. Elliott had better give our young men a safer
+example than he does. A little gay! A little drunk would be nearer
+the truth."
+
+"Oh dear! such a vulgar word! We don't use it in good society, you
+know. It belongs to taverns and drinking-saloons--to coarse, common
+people. You must say 'a little excited,' 'a little gay,' but not
+drunk. That's dreadful!"
+
+"Drunk!" said the other, with emphasis, but speaking low and for the
+ear only of the lady with whom she was talking. "We understand a
+great deal better the quality of a thing when we call it by its
+right name. If a young man drinks wine or brandy until he becomes
+intoxicated, as Whitford has done to-night, and we say he is drunk
+instead of exhilarated or a little gay, we do something toward
+making his conduct odious. We do not excuse, but condemn. We make it
+disgraceful instead of palliating the offence."
+
+The lady paused, when her companion said:
+
+"Look! Blanche Birtwell is trying to quiet him. Did you know they
+were engaged?"
+
+"What!"
+
+"Engaged."
+
+"Then I pity her from my heart. A young man who hasn't self-control
+enough to keep himself sober at an evening party can't be called a
+very promising subject for a husband."
+
+"She has placed her arm in his and is looking up into his face so
+sweetly. What a lovely girl she is! There! he's quieter already; and
+see, she is drawing him out of the group of young men and talking to
+him in such a bright, animated way."
+
+"Poor child! it makes my eyes wet; and this is her first humiliating
+and painful duty toward her future husband. God pity and strengthen
+her is my heartfelt prayer. She will have need, I fear, of more than
+human help and comfort."
+
+"You take the worst for granted?"
+
+The lady drew a deep sigh:
+
+"I fear the worst, and know something of what the worst means. There
+are few families of any note in our city," she added, after a slight
+pause, "in which sorrow has not entered through the door of
+intemperance. Ah! is not the name of the evil that comes in through
+this door Legion? and we throw it wide open and invite both young
+and old to enter. We draw them by various allurements. We make the
+way of this door broad and smooth and flowery, full of pleasantness
+and enticement. We hold out our hands, we smile with encouragement,
+we step inside of the door to show them the way."
+
+In her ardor the lady half forgot herself, and stopped suddenly as
+she observed that two or three of the company who stood near had
+been listening.
+
+Meantime, Blanche Birtwell had managed to get Whitford away from the
+table, and was trying to induce him to leave the supper-room. She
+hung on his arm and talked to him in a light, gay manner, as though
+wholly unconscious of his condition. They had reached the door
+leading into the hall, when Whitford stopped, and drawing back,
+said:
+
+"Oh, there's Fred Lovering, my old college friend. I didn't know he
+was in the city." Then he called out, in a voice so loud as to cause
+many to turn and look at him, "Fred! Fred! Why, how are you, old
+boy? This is an unexpected pleasure."
+
+The young man thus spoken to made his way through the crowd of
+guests, who were closely packed together in that part of the room,
+some going in and some trying to get out, and grasping the hand of
+Whitford, shook it with great cordiality.
+
+"Miss Birtwell," said the latter, introducing Blanche. "But you know
+each other, I see."
+
+"Oh yes, we are old friends. Glad to see you looking so well, Miss
+Birtwell."
+
+Blanche bowed with cold politeness, drawing a little back as she did
+so, and tightening her hold on Whitford's arm.
+
+Lovering fixed his eyes on the young lady with an admiring glance,
+gazing into her face so intently that her color heightened. She
+turned partly away, an expression of annoyance on her countenance,
+drawing more firmly on the arm of her companion as she did so, and
+taking a step toward the door. But Whitford was no longer passive to
+her will.
+
+Any one reading the face of Lovering would have seen a change in its
+expression, the evidence of some quickly formed purpose, and he
+would have seen also something more than simple admiration of the
+beautiful girl leaning on the arm of his friend. His manner toward
+Whitford became more hearty.
+
+"My dear old friend," he said, catching up the hand he had dropped
+and giving it a tighter grip than before, "this is a pleasure. How
+it brings back our college days! We must have a glass of wine in
+memory of the good old times. Come!"
+
+And he moved toward the table. With an impulse she could not
+restrain, Blanche drew back toward the door, pulling strongly on
+Whitford's arm:
+
+"Come, Ellis; I am faint with the heat of this room. Take me out,
+please."
+
+Whitford looked into her face, and saw that it had grown suddenly
+pale. If his perceptions had not been obscured by drink, he would
+have taken her out instantly. But his mind was not clear.
+
+"Just a moment, until I can get you a glass of wine," he said,
+turning hastily from her. Lovering was filling three glasses as he
+reached the table. Seizing one of them, he went back quickly to
+Blanche; but she waved her hand, saying: "No, no, Ellis; it isn't
+wine that I need, only cooler air."
+
+"Don't be foolish," replied Whitford, with visible impatience. "Take
+a few sips of wine, and you will feel better."
+
+Lovering, with a glass in each hand, now joined them. He saw the
+change in Blanche's face, and having already observed the
+exhilarated condition of Whitford, understood its meaning. Handing
+the latter one of the glasses, he said:
+
+"Here's to your good health, Miss Birtwell, and to yours, Ellis,"
+drinking as he spoke. Whitford drained his glass, but Blanche did
+not so much as wet her lips. Her face had grown paler.
+
+"If you do not take me out, I must go alone," she said, in a voice
+that made itself felt. There was in it a quiver of pain and a pulse
+of indignation.
+
+Lovering lost nothing of this. As his college friend made his way
+from the room with Blanche on his arm, he stood for a moment in an
+attitude of deep thought, then nodded two or three times and said to
+himself:
+
+"That's how the land lies. Wine in and wit out, and Blanche troubled
+about it already. Engaged, they say. All right. But glass is sharp,
+and love's fetters are made of silk. Will the edge be duller if the
+glass is filled with wine? I trow not."
+
+And a gleam of satisfaction lit up the young man's face.
+
+With an effort strong and self-controlling for one so young, Blanche
+Birtwell laid her hand upon her troubled heart as soon as she was
+out of the supper-room, and tried to still its agitation. The color
+came back to her cheeks and some of the lost brightness to her eyes,
+but she was not long in discovering that the glass of wine taken
+with his college friend had proved too much for the already confused
+brain of her lover who began talking foolishly and acting in a way
+that mortified and pained her exceedingly. She now sought to get him
+into the library and out of common observation. Her father had just
+received from France and England some rare books filled with art
+illustrations, and she invited him to their examination. But he was
+feeling too social for that.
+
+"Why, no, pet." He made answer with a fond familiarity he would
+scarcely have used if they had been alone instead of in a crowded
+drawing-room, touching her cheek playfully with his fingers as he
+spoke. "Not now. We'll reserve that pleasure for another time. This
+is good enough for me;" and he swung his arms around and gave a
+little whoop like an excited rowdy.
+
+A deep crimson dyed for a moment the face of Blanche. In a moment
+afterward it was pale as ashes. Whitford saw the death-like change,
+and it partially roused him to a sense of his condition.
+
+"Of course I'll go to the library if your heart's set on it," he
+said, drawing her arm in his and taking her out of the room with a
+kind of flourish. Many eyes turned on them. In some was surprise, in
+some merriment and in some sorrow and pain.
+
+"Now for the books," he cried as he placed Blanche in a large chair
+at the library-table. "Where are they?"
+
+Self-control has a masterful energy when the demand for its exercise
+is imperative. The paleness went out of Blanche's face, and a tender
+light came into her eyes as she looked up at Whitford and smiled on
+him with loving glances.
+
+"Sit down," she said in a firm, low, gentle voice.
+
+The young man felt the force of her will and sat down by her side,
+close to the table, on which a number of books were lying.
+
+"I want to show you Dore's illustrations of Don Quixote;" and
+Blanche opened a large folio volume.
+
+Whitford had grown more passive. He was having a confused impression
+that all was not just right with him, and that it was better to be
+in the library looking over books and pictures with Blanche than in
+the crowded parlors, where there was so much to excite his gayer
+feelings. So he gave himself up to the will of his betrothed, and
+tried to feel an interest in the pictures she seemed to admire so
+much.
+
+They had been so engaged for over twenty minutes, Whitford beginning
+to grow dull and heavy as the exhilaration of wine died out, and
+less responsive to the efforts made by Blanche to keep him
+interested, when Lovering came into the library, and, seeing them,
+said, with a spur of banter in his voice:
+
+"Come, come, this will never do! You're a fine fellow, Whitford, and
+I don't wonder that Miss Birtwell tolerates you, but monopoly is not
+the word to-night. I claim the privilege of a guest and a word or
+two with our fair hostess."
+
+And he held out his arm to Blanche, who had risen from the table.
+She could do no less than take it. He drew her from the room. As
+they passed out of the door Blanche cast a look back at Whitford.
+Those who saw it were struck by its deep concern.
+
+"Confound his impudence!" ejaculated Ellis Whitford as he saw
+Blanche vanish through the library door. Rising from the table he
+stood with an irresolute air, then went slowly from the apartment
+and mingled with the company, moving about in an aimless kind of
+way, until he drifted again into the supper-room, the tables of
+which the waiters were constantly replenishing, and toward which a
+stream of guests still flowed. The company here was noisier now than
+when he left it a short time before. Revelry had taken the place of
+staid propriety. Glasses clinked like a chime of bells, voices ran
+up into the higher keys, and the loud musical laugh of girls mingled
+gaily with the deeper tones of their male companions. Young maidens
+with glasses of sparkling champagne or rich brown and amber sherry
+in their hands were calling young men and boys to drink with them,
+and showing a freedom and abandon of manner that marked the degree
+of their exhilaration. Wine does not act in one way on the brain of
+a young man and in another way on the brain of a young woman. Girls
+of eighteen or twenty will become as wild and free and forgetful of
+propriety as young men of the same age if you bring them together at
+a feast and give them wine freely.
+
+We do not exaggerate the scene in Mr. Birtwell's supper-room, but
+rather subdue the picture. As Whitford drew nigh the supper-room the
+sounds of boisterous mirth struck on his ears and stirred him like
+the rattle of a drum. The heaviness went out of his limbs, his pulse
+beat more quickly, he felt a new life in his veins. As he passed in
+his name was called in a gay voice that he did not at first
+recognize, and at the same moment a handsome young girl with flushed
+face and sparkling eyes came hastily toward him, and drawing her
+hand in his arm, said, in a loud familiar tone:
+
+"You shall be my knight, Sir Ellis."
+
+And she almost dragged him down the room to where half a dozen girls
+and young men were having a wordy contest about something. He was in
+the midst of the group before he really understood who the young
+lady was that had laid such violent hands upon him. He then
+recognized her as the daughter of a well-known merchant. He had met
+her a few times in company, and her bearing toward him had always
+before been marked by a lady-like dignity and reserve. Now she was
+altogether another being, loud, free and familiar almost to
+rudeness.
+
+"You must have some wine, Sir Knight, to give you mettle for the
+conflict," she said, running to the table and filling a glass, which
+she handed to him with the air of a Hebe.
+
+Whitford did not hesitate, but raised the glass to his lips and
+emptied it at a single draught.
+
+"Now for knight or dragon, my lady fair. I am yours to do or die,"
+he exclaimed, drawing up his handsome form with a mock dignity, at
+which a loud cheer broke out from the group of girls and young men
+that was far more befitting a tavern-saloon than a gentleman's
+dining-room.
+
+Louder and noisier this little group became, Whitford, under a fresh
+supply of wine, leading in the boisterous mirth. One after another,
+attracted by the gayety and laughter, joined the group, until it
+numbered fifteen or twenty half-intoxicated young men and women, who
+lost themselves in a kind of wild saturnalia.
+
+It was past twelve o'clock when Mrs. Whitford entered the
+dining-room, where the noise and laughter were almost deafening. Her
+face was pale, her lips closely compressed and her forehead
+contracted with pain. She stood looking anxiously through the room
+until she saw her son leaning against the wall, with a young lady
+standing in front of him holding a glass in her hand which she was
+trying to induce him to take. One glance at the face of Ellis told
+her too plainly his sad condition.
+
+To go to him and endeavor to get him away Mrs. Whitford feared might
+arouse his latent pride and make him stubborn to her wishes.
+
+"You see that young man standing against the wall?" she said to one
+of the waiters.
+
+"Mr. Whitford do you mean?" asked the waiter.
+
+"Yes," she replied. "Go to him quietly, and say that his mother is
+going home and wants him. Speak low, if you please."
+
+Mrs. Whitford stood with a throbbing heart as the waiter passed down
+the room. The tempter was before her son offering the glass of wine,
+which he yet refused. She saw him start and look disconcerted as the
+waiter spoke to him, then wave the glass of wine aside. But he did
+not stir from him place.
+
+The waiter came back to Mrs. Whitford:
+
+"He says don't wait for him, ma'am."
+
+The poor mother felt an icy coldness run along her nerves. For some
+moments she stood irresolute, and then went back to the parlor. She
+remained there for a short time, masking her countenance as best she
+could, and then returned to the dining-room, where noise and
+merriment still prevailed. She did not at first see her son, though
+her eyes went quickly from face to face and from form to form. She
+was about retiring, under the impression that he was not there, when
+the waiter to whom she had spoken before said to her:
+
+"Are you looking for Mr. Whitford?"
+
+There was something in his voice that made her heart stand still.
+
+"Yes," she replied.
+
+"You will find him at the lower end of the room, just in the
+corner," said the man.
+
+Mrs. Whitford made her way to the lower end of the room. Ellis was
+sitting in a chair, stupid and maudlin, and two or three thoughtless
+girls were around his chair laughing at his drunken efforts to be
+witty. The shocked mother did not speak to him, but shrunk away and
+went gliding from the room. At the door she said to the waiter who
+had followed her out, drawn by a look she gave him:
+
+"I will be ready to go in five minutes, and I want Mr. Whitford to
+go with me. Get him down to the door as quietly as you can."
+
+The waiter went back into the supper-room, and with a tact that came
+from experience in cases similar to this managed to get the young
+man away without arousing his opposition.
+
+Five minutes afterward, as Mrs. Whitford sat in her carriage at the
+door of Mr. Birtwell's palace home, her son was pushed in, half
+resisting, by two waiters, so drunk that his wretched mother had to
+support him with her arm all the way home. Is it any wonder that in
+her aching heart the mother cried out, "Oh, that he had died a baby
+on my breast!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+
+
+
+AMONG the guests at Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell's was an officer holding a
+high rank in the army, named Abercrombie. He had married, many years
+before, a lady of fine accomplishments and rare culture who was
+connected with one of the oldest families in New York. Her
+grandfather on her mother's side had distinguished himself as an
+officer in the Revolutionary war; and on her father's side she could
+count statesmen and lawyers whose names were prominent in the early
+history of our country.
+
+General Abercrombie while a young man had fallen into the vice of
+the army, and had acquired the habit of drinking.
+
+The effects of alcohol are various. On some they are seen in the
+bloated flesh and reddened eyes. Others grow pale, and their skin
+takes on a dead and ashen hue. With some the whole nervous system
+becomes shattered; while with others organic derangements, gout,
+rheumatism and kindred evils attend the assimilation of this poison.
+
+Quite as varied are the moral and mental effects of alcoholic
+disturbance. Some are mild and weak inebriates, growing passive or
+stupid in their cups. Others become excited, talkative and
+intrusive; others good-natured and merry; not a few coarse,
+arbitrary, brutal and unfeeling; and some jealous, savage and
+fiend-like.
+
+Of the last-named class was General Abercrombie. When sober, a
+kinder, gentler or more considerate man toward his wife could hardly
+be found; but when intoxicated, he was half a fiend, and seemed to
+take a devilish delight in tormenting her. It had been no uncommon
+thing for him to point a loaded pistol at her heart, and threaten to
+shoot her dead if she moved or cried out; to hold a razor at his own
+throat, or place the keen edge, close to hers; to open a window at
+midnight and threaten to fling himself to the ground, or to drag her
+across the floor, swearing that they should take the leap together.
+
+For years the wretched wife had borne all this, and worse if
+possible, hiding her dreadful secret as best she could, and doing
+all in her power to hold her husband, for whom she retained a strong
+attachment, away from temptation. Friends who only half suspected
+the truth wondered that Time was so aggressive, taking the flash and
+merriment out of her beautiful eyes, the color and fullness from her
+cheeks, the smiles from her lips and the glossy, blackness from her
+hair.
+
+"Mrs. Abercrombie is such a wreck," one would say on meeting her
+after a few years. "I would hardly have known her; and she doesn't
+look at all happy."
+
+"I wonder if the general drinks as hard as ever?" would in all
+probability be replied to this remark, followed by the response:
+
+"I was not aware that he was a hard drinker. He doesn't look like
+it."
+
+"No, you would not suspect so much; but I am sorry to say that he
+has very little control over his appetite."
+
+At which a stronger surprise would be expressed.
+
+General Abercrombie was fifty years old, a large, handsome and
+agreeable man, and a favorite with his brother officers, who deeply
+regretted his weakness. As an officer his drinking habits rarely
+interfered with his duty. Somehow the discipline of the army had
+gained such a power over him as to hold him repressed and
+subordinate to its influence. It was only when official restraints
+were off that the devil had power to enter in and fully possess him.
+
+A year before the time of which we are writing General Abercrombie
+had been ordered to duty in the north-eastern department. His
+headquarters were in the city where the characters we have
+introduced resided. Official standing gave him access to some of the
+wealthiest and best circles in the city, and his accomplished wife
+soon became a favorite with all who were fortunate enough to come
+into close relations with her. Among these was Mrs. Birtwell, the
+two ladies drawing toward each other with the magnetism of kindred
+spirits.
+
+A short time before coming to the city General Abercrombie, after
+having in a fit of drunken insanity come near killing his wife,
+wholly abandoned the use of intoxicants of every kind. He saw in
+this his only hope. His efforts to drink guardedly and temperately
+had been fruitless. The guard was off the moment a single glass of
+liquor passed his lips, and, he came under the influence of an
+aroused appetite against which resolution set itself feebly and in
+vain.
+
+Up to the evening of this party at Mr. Birtwell's General
+Abercrombie had kept himself free from wine, and people who knew
+nothing of his history wondered at his abstemiousness. When invited
+to drink, he declined in a way that left no room for the invitation
+to be repeated. He never went to private entertainments except in
+company with his wife, and then he rarely took any other lady to the
+supper-room.
+
+The new hope born in the sad heart of Mrs. Abercrombie had grown
+stronger as the weeks and months went by. Never for so long a time
+had the general stood firm. It looked as, if he had indeed gained
+the mastery over an appetite which at one time seemed wholly to have
+enslaved him.
+
+With a lighter heart than usual on such occasions, Mrs. Abercrombie
+made ready for the grand entertainment, paying more than ordinary
+attention to her toilette. Something of her old social and personal
+pride came back into life, giving her face and bearing the dignity
+and prestige worn in happier days. As she entered the drawing-room
+at Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell's, leaning on her husband's arm, a ripple
+of admiration was seen on many faces, and the question, "Who is
+she?" was heard on many lips. Mrs. Abercrombie was a centre of
+attraction that evening, and no husband could have been prouder of
+such a distinction for his wife than was the general. He, too, found
+himself an object of interest and attention. Mr. Birtwell was a man
+who made the most of his guests, and being a genuine _parvenu_, did
+not fail through any refinement of good breeding in advertising to
+each other the merits or achievements of those he favored with
+introductions. If he presented a man of letters to an eminent
+banker, he informed each in a word or two of the other's
+distinguished merits. An officer would be complimented on his rank
+or public service, a scientist on his last book or essay, a leading
+politician on his statesmanship. At Mr. Birtwell's you always found
+yourself among men with more in them than you had suspected, and
+felt half ashamed of your ignorance in regard to their great
+achievements.
+
+General Abercrombie, like many others that evening, felt unusually
+well satisfied with himself. Mr. Birtwell complimented him whenever
+they happened to meet, sometimes on his public services and
+sometimes on the "sensation" that elegant woman Mrs. Abercrombie was
+making. He grew in his own estimation under the flattering
+attentions of his host, and felt a manlier pride swelling in his
+heart than he had for some time known. His bearing became more
+self-poised, his innate sense of strength more apparent. Here was a
+man among men.
+
+This was the general's state of mind when, after an hour, or two of
+social intercourse, he entered the large supper-room, whither he
+escorted a lady. He had not seen his wife for half an hour. If she
+had been, as usual on such occasions, by his side, he would have
+been on guard. But the lady who leaned on his arm was not his good
+angel. She was a gay, fashionable woman, and as fond of good eating
+and drinking as any male epicure there. The general was polite and
+attentive, and as prompt as any younger gallant in the work of
+supplying his fair companion with the good things she was so ready
+to appropriate.
+
+"Will you have a glass of champagne?"
+
+Of course she would. Her eyebrows arched a little in surprise at the
+question. The general filled a glass and placed it in her hand. Did
+she raise it to her lips? No; she held it a little extended, looking
+at him with an expression which said, "I will wait for you."
+
+For an instant General Abercrombie felt as if he were sinking
+through space. Darkness and fear were upon him. But there was no
+time for indecision. The lady stood holding her glass and looking at
+him fixedly. An instant and the struggle was over. He turned to the
+table and filled another glass. A smile and a bow, and then, a
+draught that sent the blood leaping along his veins with a hot and
+startled impulse.
+
+Mrs. Abercrombie, who had entered the room a little while before,
+and was some distance from the place where her husband stood, felt
+at the moment a sudden chill and weight fall upon her heart. A
+gentleman who was talking to her saw her face grow pale and a look
+that seemed like terror come into he eyes.
+
+"Are you ill, Mrs. Abercrombie?" he asked, in some alarm.
+
+"No," she replied. "Only a slight feeling of faintness. It is gone
+now;" and she tried to recover herself.
+
+"Shall I take you from the room?" asked the gentleman, seeing that
+the color did not come back to her face.
+
+"Oh no, thank you."
+
+"Let me give you a glass of wine."
+
+But she waved her hand with a quick motion, saying, "Not wine; but a
+little ice water."
+
+She drank, but the water did not take the whiteness from her lips
+nor restore the color to her cheeks. The look of dread or fear kept
+in her eyes, and her companion saw her glance up and down the room
+in a furtive way as if in anxious search for some one.
+
+In a few moments Mrs. Abercrombie was able to rise in some small
+degree above the strange impression which had fallen upon her like
+the shadow of some passing evil; but the rarely flavored dishes, the
+choice fruits, confections and ices with which she was supplied
+scarcely passed her lips. She only pretended to eat. Her ease of
+manner and fine freedom of conversation were gone, and the gentleman
+who had been fascinated by her wit, intelligence and frank womanly
+bearing now felt an almost repellant coldness.
+
+"You cannot feel well, Mrs. Abercrombie," he said. "The air is close
+and hot. Let me take you back to the parlors."
+
+She did not reply, nor indeed seem to hear him. Her eyes had become
+suddenly arrested by some object a little way off, and were fixed
+upon it in a frightened stare. The gentleman turned and saw only her
+husband in lively conversation with a lady. He had a glass of wine
+in his hand, and was just raising it to his lips.
+
+"Jealous!" was the thought that flashed through his mind. The
+position was embarrassing. What could he say? In the next moment
+intervening forms hid those of General Abercrombie and his fair
+companion. Still as a statue, with eyes that seemed staring into
+vacancy, Mrs. Abercrombie remained for some moments, then she drew
+her hand within the gentleman's arm and said in a low voice that was
+little more than a hoarse whisper:
+
+"Thank you; yes, I will go back to the parlors."
+
+They retired from the room without attracting notice.
+
+"Can I do anything for you?" asked the gentleman as he seated her on
+a sofa in one of the bay-windows where she was partially concealed
+from observation.
+
+"No, thank you," she answered, with regaining self-control. She then
+insisted on being left alone, and with a decision of manner that
+gave her attendant no alternative but compliance.
+
+The gentleman immediately returned to the supper-room. As he joined
+the company there he met a friend to whom he said in a
+half-confidential way: "Do you know anything about General
+Abercrombie's relations with his wife?
+
+"What do you mean?" inquired the friend, with evident surprise.
+
+"I saw something just now that looks very suspicious."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I came here with Mrs. Abercrombie a little while ago, and was
+engaged in helping her, when I saw her face grow deadly pale.
+Following her eyes, I observed them fixed on the general, who was
+chatting gayly and taking wine with a lady."
+
+"What! taking wine did you say?"
+
+The gentleman was almost as much surprised at the altered manner of
+his friend as he had been with that of Mrs. Abercrombie:
+
+"Yes; anything strange in that?"
+
+"Less strange than sad," was replied. "I don't wonder you saw the
+color go out of Mrs. Abercrombie's face."
+
+"Why so? What does it mean?"
+
+"It means sorrow and heartbreak."
+
+"You surprise and pain me. I thought of the lady by his side, not of
+the glass of wine in his hand."
+
+The two men left the crowded supper-room in order to be more alone.
+
+"You know something of the general's life and habits?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He has not been intemperate, I hope?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Oh, I am pained to hear you say so."
+
+"Drink is his besetting sin, the vice that has more than once come
+near leading to his dismissal from the army. He is one of the men
+who cannot use wine or spirits in moderation. In consequence of some
+diseased action of the nutritive organs brought on by drink, he has
+lost the power of self-control when under the influence of alcoholic
+stimulation. He is a dypso-maniac. A glass of wine or brandy to him
+is like the match to a train of powder. I don't wonder, knowing what
+I do about General Abercrombie, that his wife grew deadly pale
+to-night when she saw him raise a glass to his lips."
+
+"Has he been abstaining for any length of time?"
+
+"Yes; for many months he has kept himself free. I am intimate with
+an officer who told me all about him. When not under the influence
+of drink, the general is one of the kindest-hearted men in the
+world. To his wife he is tender and indulgent almost to a fault, if
+that were possible. But liquor seems to put the devil into him.
+Drink drowns his better nature and changes him into a half-insane
+fiend. I am told that he came near killing his wife more than once
+in a drunken phrensy."
+
+"You pain me beyond measure. Poor lady! I don't wonder that the life
+went out of her so suddenly, nor at the terror I saw in her face.
+Can nothing be done? Has he no friends here who will draw him out of
+the supper-room and get him away before he loses control of
+himself?"
+
+"It is too late. If he has begun to drink, it is all over. You might
+as well try to draw off a wolf who has tasted blood."
+
+"Does he become violent? Are we going to have a drunken scene?"
+
+"Oh no; we need apprehend nothing of that kind. I never heard of his
+committing any public folly. The devil that enters into him is not a
+rioting, boisterous fiend, but quiet, malignant, suspicious and
+cruel."
+
+"Suspicious? Of what?"
+
+"Of everybody and everything. His brother officers are in league
+against him; his wife is regarded with jealousy; your frankest
+speech covers in his view some hidden and sinister meaning. You must
+be careful of your attentions to Mrs. Abercrombie to-night, for he
+will construe them adversely, and pour out his wrath on her
+defenceless head when they are alone."
+
+"This is frightful," was answered. "I never heard of such a case."
+
+"Never heard of a drunken man assaulting his wife when alone with
+her, beating, maiming or murdering her?"
+
+"Oh yes, among the lowest and vilest. But we are speaking now of
+people in good society--people of culture and refinement."
+
+"Culture and social refinements have no influence over a man when
+the fever of intoxication is upon him. He is for the time an insane
+man, and subject to the influx and control of malignant influences.
+Hell rules him instead of heaven."
+
+"It is awful to think of. It makes me shudder."
+
+"We know little of what goes on at home after an entertainment like
+this," said the other. "It all looks so glad and brilliant. Smiles,
+laughter, gayety, enjoyment, meet you at every turn. Each one is at
+his or her best. It is a festival of delight. But you cannot at this
+day give wine and brandy without stint to one or two or three
+hundred men and women of all ages, habits, temperaments and
+hereditary moral and physical conditions without the production of
+many evil consequences. It matters little what the social condition
+may be; the hurt of drink is the same. The sphere of respectability
+may and does guard many. Culture and pride of position hold others
+free from undue sensual indulgence. But with the larger number the
+enticements of appetite are as strong and enslaving in one grade of
+society as in another, and the disturbance of normal conditions as
+great. And so you see that the wife of an intoxicated army officer
+or lawyer or banker may be in as much danger from his drunken and
+insane fury, when alone with him and unprotected, as the wife of a
+street-sweeper or hod-carrier."
+
+"I have never thought of it in that way."
+
+"No, perhaps not. Cases of wife-beating and personal injuries, of
+savage and frightful assaults, of terrors and sufferings endured
+among the refined and educated, rarely if ever come to public
+notice. Family pride, personal delicacy and many other
+considerations seal the lips in silence. But there are few social
+circles in which it is not known that some of its members are sad
+sufferers because of a husband's or a father's intemperance, and
+there are many, many families, alas! which have always in their
+homes the shadow of a sorrow that embitters everything. They hide it
+as best they can, and few know or dream of what they endure."
+
+Dr. Angier joined the two men at this moment, and heard the last
+remark. The speaker added, addressing him:
+
+"Your professional experience will corroborate this, Dr. Angier."
+
+"Corroborate what?" he asked, with a slight appearance of evasion in
+his manner.
+
+"We were speaking of the effects of intemperance on the more
+cultivated and refined classes, and I said that it mattered little
+as to the social condition; the hurt of drink was the same and the
+disturbance of normal conditions as great in one class of society as
+in another, that a confirmed inebriate, when under the influence of
+intoxicants, lost all idea of respectability or moral
+responsibility, and would act out his insane passion, whether he
+were a lawyer, an army officer or a hod-carrier. In other words,
+that social position gave the wife of an inebriate no immunity from
+personal violence when alone with her drunken husband."
+
+Dr. Angier did not reply, but his face became thoughtful.
+
+"Have you given much attention to the pathology of drunkenness?"
+asked one of the gentlemen.
+
+"Some; not a great deal. The subject is one of the most perplexing
+and difficult we have to deal with."
+
+"You class intemperance with diseases, do you not?"
+
+"Yes; certain forms of it. It may be hereditary or acquired like any
+other disease. One man may have a pulmonary, another a bilious and
+another a dypso-maniac diathesis, and an exposure to exciting causes
+in one case is as fatal to health as in the other. If there exist a
+predisposition to consumption, the disease will be developed under
+peculiar morbific influences which would have no deleterious effect
+upon a subject not so predisposed. The same law operates as
+unerringly in the inherited predisposition to intemperance. Let the
+man with a dypso-maniac diathesis indulge in the use of intoxicating
+liquors, and he will surely become a drunkard. There is no more
+immunity for him than for the man who with tubercles in his lungs
+exposes himself to cold, bad air and enervating bodily conditions."
+
+"A more serious view of the case, doctor, than is usually taken."
+
+"I know, but a moment's consideration--to say nothing of observed
+facts--will satisfy any reasonable man of its truth."
+
+"What do you mean by dypso-mania as a medical term?"
+
+"The word," replied Dr. Angier, "means crazy for drink, and is used
+in the profession to designate that condition of alcoholic disease
+in which the subject when under its influence has no power of
+self-control. It is characterized by an inordinate and irresistible
+desire for alcoholic liquors, varying in intensity from a slight
+departure from a normal appetite to the most depraved and entire
+abandonment to its influence. When this disease becomes developed,
+its action upon the brain is to deteriorate its quality and impair
+its functions. All the faculties become more or less weakened.
+Reason, judgment, perception, memory and understanding lose their
+vigor and capacity. The will becomes powerless before the strong
+propensity to drink. The moral sentiments and affections likewise
+become involved in the general impairment. Conscience, the feeling
+of accountability, the sense of right and wrong, all become
+deadened, while the passions are aroused and excited."
+
+"What an awful disease!" exclaimed one of the listeners.
+
+"You may well call it an awful disease," returned the doctor, who,
+under the influence of a few glasses of wine, was more inclined to
+talk than usual. "It has been named the mother of diseases. Its
+death-roll far outnumbers that of any other. When it has fairly
+seized upon a man, no influence seems able to hold him back from the
+indulgence of his passion for drink. To gratify this desire he will
+disregard every consideration affecting his standing in society, his
+pecuniary interests and his domestic relations, while the most
+frightful instances of the results of drinking have no power to
+restrain him. A hundred deaths from this cause, occurring under the
+most painful and revolting circumstances, fail to impress him with a
+sense of his own danger. His understanding will be clear as to the
+cases before him, and he will even condemn the self-destructive acts
+which he sees in others, but will pass, as it were, over the very
+bodies of these victims, without a thought of warning or a sense of
+fear, in order to gratify his own ungovernable propensity. Such is
+the power of this terrible malady."
+
+"Has the profession found a remedy?"
+
+"No; the profession is almost wholly at fault in its treatment.
+There are specialists connected with insane and reformatory
+institutions who have given much attention to the subject, but as
+yet we have no recorded line of treatment that guarantees a cure."
+
+"Except," said one of his listeners, "the remedy of entire
+abstinence from drinks in which alcohol is present."
+
+The doctor gave a shrug:
+
+"You do not cure a thirsty man by withholding water."
+
+His mind was a little clouded by the wine he had taken.
+
+"The thirsty man's desire for water is healthy; and if you withhold
+it, you create a disease that will destroy him," was answered. "Not
+so the craving for alcohol. With every new supply the craving is
+increased, and the man becomes more and more helpless in the folds
+of an enslaving appetite. Is it not true, doctor, that with few
+exceptions all who have engaged in treating inebriates agree that
+only in entire abstinence is cure possible?"
+
+"Well, yes; you are probably right there," Dr. Angler returned, with
+some professional reserve. "In the most cases isolation and
+abstinence are no doubt the only remedies, or, to speak more
+correctly, the only palliatives. As for cure, I am one of the
+skeptics. If you have the diathesis, you have the danger of exposure
+always, as in consumption."
+
+"An occasion like this," remarked the other, "is to one with a
+dypso-maniac diathesis like a draft of cold, damp air on the exposed
+chest of a delicate girl who has the seeds of consumption in her
+lungs. Is it not so, doctor?"
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"There are over three hundred persons here to-night."
+
+"Not less."
+
+"In so large a company, taking society as we have it to-day, is it
+likely that we have none here with a hereditary or acquired love of
+drink?"
+
+"Scarcely possible," replied Dr. Angier.
+
+"How large do you think the percentage?"
+
+"I have no means of knowing; but if we are to judge by the large
+army of drunkards in the land, it must be fearfully great."
+
+"Then we cannot invite to our houses fifty or a hundred guests, and
+give them as much wine and spirits as they care to drink, without
+seriously hurting some of them. I say nothing of the effect upon
+unvitiated tastes; I refer only to those with diseased appetites who
+made happen to be present."
+
+"It will be bad for them, certainly. Such people should stay at
+home."
+
+And saying this, Dr. Angier turned from the two gentlemen to speak
+with a professional friend who came toward him at the moment.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+
+
+
+"THE doctor likes his glass of wine," remarked one of the gentlemen
+as Dr. Angier left them.
+
+"Is that so?"
+
+"Didn't you observe his heightened color and the gleam in his eyes?"
+
+"I noticed something unusual in his manner, but did not think it the
+effect of wine."
+
+"He is a reticent man, with considerable of what may be called
+professional dignity, and doesn't often let himself down to laymen
+as he did just now."
+
+"There wasn't much letting down, that I could see."
+
+"Perhaps not; but professional pride is reserved and sensitive in
+some persons. It hasn't much respect for the opinions of
+non-experts, and is chary of discussion with laymen. Dr. Angier is
+weak, or peculiar if you please, in this direction. I saw that he
+was annoyed at your reply to his remark that you do not cure a
+thirsty man by withholding water. It was a little thing, but it
+showed his animus. The argument was against him, and it hurt his
+pride. As I said, he likes his glass of wine, and if he does not
+take care will come to like it too well. A doctor has no more
+immunity from dypso-mania than his patient. The former may inherit
+or acquire the disease as well as the latter."
+
+"How does the doctor know that he has not from some ancestor this
+fatal diathesis? Children rarely if ever betray to their children a
+knowledge of the vices or crimes of their parents. The death by
+consumption, cancer or fever is a part of oral family history, but
+not so the death from intemperance. Over that is drawn a veil of
+silence and secresy, and the children and grandchildren rarely if
+ever know anything about it. There may be in their blood the taint
+of a disease far more terrible than cancer or consumption, and none
+to give them warning of the conditions under which its development
+is certain."
+
+"Is it not strange," was replied, "that, knowing as Dr. Angier
+certainly does, from what he said just now, that in all classes of
+society there is a large number who have in their physical
+constitutions the seeds of this dreadful disease--that, as I have
+said, knowing this, he should so frequently prescribe wine and
+whisky to his patients?"
+
+"It is a little surprising. I have noticed, now that you speak of
+it, his habit in this respect."
+
+"He might as well, on his own theory, prescribe thin clothing and
+damp air to one whose father or mother had died of consumption as
+alcoholic stimulants to one, who has the taint of dypso-mania in his
+blood. In one case as in the other the disease will almost surely be
+developed. This is common sense, and something that can be
+understood by all men."
+
+"And yet, strange to say, the very men who have in charge the public
+health, the very men whose business it is to study the relations
+between cause and effect in diseases, are the men who in far too
+many instances are making the worst possible prescriptions for
+patients in whom even the slightest tendency to inebriety may exist
+hereditarily. We have, to speak plainly, too many whisky doctors,
+and the harm they are doing is beyond calculation. A physician takes
+upon himself a great responsibility when, without any knowledge of
+the antecedents of a patient or the stock from which he may have
+come, he prescribes whisky or wine or brandy as a stimulant. I
+believe thousands of drunkards have been made by these unwise
+prescriptions, against which I am glad to know some of the most
+eminent men in the profession, both in this country and Europe, have
+entered a solemn protest."
+
+"There is one thing in connection with the disease of intemperance,"
+replied the other, "that is very remarkable. It is the only one from
+which society does not protect itself by quarantine and sanitary
+restrictions. In cholera, yellow fever and small-pox every effort is
+made to guard healthy districts from their invasion, and the man who
+for gain or any other consideration should be detected in the work
+of introducing infecting agents would be execrated and punished. But
+society has another way of dealing with the men who are engaged in
+spreading the disease of intemperance among the people. It enacts
+laws for their protection, and gives them the largest liberty to get
+gain in their work of disseminating disease and death, and, what is
+still more remarkable, actually sells for money the right to do
+this."
+
+"You put the case sharply."
+
+"Too sharply?"
+
+"Perhaps not. No good ever comes of calling evil things by dainty
+names or veiling hard truth under mild and conservative phrases. In
+granting men a license to dispense alcohol in every variety of
+enticing forms and in a community where a large percentage of the
+people have a predisposition to intemperance, consequent as well on
+hereditary taint as unhealthy social conditions, society commits
+itself to a disastrous error the fruit of which is bitterer to the
+taste than the ashen core of Dead Sea apples."
+
+"What about Dead Sea apples?" asked Mr. Elliott, who came up at the
+moment and heard the last remark. The two gentlemen were pew-holders
+in his church. Mr. Elliott's countenance was radiant. All his fine
+social feelings were active, and he was enjoying a "flow of soul,"
+if not "a feast of reason." Wine was making glad his heart--not
+excess of wine, in the ordinary sense, for Mr. Elliott had no morbid
+desire for stimulants. He was of the number who could take a social
+glass and not feel a craving for more. He believed in wine as a good
+thing, only condemning its abuse.
+
+"What were you saying about Dead Sea apples?" Mr. Elliott repeated
+his question.
+
+"We were speaking of intemperance," replied one of the gentlemen.
+
+"O--h!" in a prolonged and slightly indifferent tone. Mr. Elliott's
+countenance lost some of its radiance. "And what were you saying
+about it?"
+
+Common politeness required as much as this, even though the subject
+was felt to be out of place.
+
+"We were talking with Dr. Angier just now about hereditary
+drunkenness, or rather the inherited predisposition to that
+vice--disease, as the doctor calls it. This predisposition he says
+exists in a large number of persons, and is as well defined
+pathologically, and as certain to become active, under favoring
+causes, as any other disease. Alcoholic stimulants are its exciting
+causes. Let, said the doctor, a man so predisposed indulge in the
+use of intoxicating liquors, and he will surely become a drunkard.
+There is no more immunity for him, he added, than for the man who
+with tubercles in his lungs exposes himself to cold, bad air and
+enervating bodily conditions. Now, is not this a very serious view
+to take of the matter?"
+
+"Certainly it is," replied Mr. Elliott. "Intemperance is a sad
+thing, and a most fearful curse."
+
+He did not look comfortable. It was to him an untimely intrusion of
+an unpleasant theme. "But what in the world set the doctor off on
+this subject?" he asked, trying to make a diversion.
+
+"Occasions are apt to suggest subjects for conversation," answered
+the gentleman. "One cannot be present at a large social
+entertainment like this without seeing some things that awaken
+doubts and questionings. If it be true, as Dr. Angier says, that the
+disease of intemperance is as surely transmitted, potentially, as
+the disease of consumption, and will become active under favoring
+circumstances, then a drinking festival cannot be given without
+fearful risk to some of the invited guests."
+
+"There is always danger of exciting disease where a predisposition
+exists," replied Mr. Elliott. "A man can hardly be expected to make
+himself acquainted with the pathology of his guests before inviting
+them to a feast. If that is to be the rule, the delicate young lady
+with the seeds of consumption in her system must be left at home for
+fear she may come with bare arms and a low-necked dress, and expose
+herself after being heated with dancing to the draught of an open
+window. The bilious and dyspeptic must be omitted also, lest by
+imprudent eating and drinking they make themselves sick. We cannot
+regulate these things. The best we can do is to warn and admonish.
+Every individual is responsible for his own moral character, habits
+and life. Because some may become the slaves of appetite, shall
+restraint and limitation be placed on those who make no abuse of
+liberty? We must teach men self-control and self-mastery, if we
+would truly help and save them. There is some exaggeration, in my
+opinion, about this disease-theory of intemperance. The deductions
+of one-idea men are not always to be trusted. They are apt to draw
+large conclusions from small facts. Man is born a free agent, and
+all men have power, if they will, to hold their appetites in check.
+This truth should be strongly impressed upon every one. Your
+disease-theory takes away moral responsibility. It assumes that a
+man is no more accountable for getting drunk than for getting the
+consumption. His diathesis excuses him as much in one case as in the
+other. Now, I don't believe a word of this. I do not class
+appetites, however inordinate, with physical diseases over which the
+will has no control. A man must control his appetite. Reason and
+conscience require this, and God gives to every one the mastery of
+himself if he will but use his high prerogative."
+
+Mr. Elliott spoke a little loftily, and in a voice that expressed a
+settlement of the argument. But one at least of his listeners was
+feeling too strongly on the subject to let the argument close.
+
+"What," he asked, "if a young man who did not, because he could not,
+know that he had dypso-mania in his blood were enticed to drink
+often at parties where wine is freely dispensed? Would he not be
+taken, so to speak, unawares? Would he be any more responsible for
+acts that quickened into life an over-mastering appetite than the
+young girl who, not knowing that she had in her lungs the seeds of a
+fatal disease, should expose herself to atmospheric changes that
+were regarded by her companions as harmless, but which, to her were
+fraught with peril?"
+
+"In both cases," replied Mr. Elliott, "the responsibility to care
+for the health would come the moment it was found to be in danger."
+
+"The discovery of danger may come, alas! too late for responsible
+action. We know that it does in most cases with the consumptive, and
+quite as often, I fear, with the dypso-maniac."
+
+As the gentleman was closing the last sentence he observed a change
+pass over the face of Mr. Elliott, who was looking across the room.
+Following the direction of his eyes, he saw General Abercrombie in
+the act of offering his arm to Mrs. Abercrombie. It was evident,
+from the expression of his countenance and that of the countenances
+of all who were near him that something had gone wrong. The
+general's face was angry and excited. His eyes had a fierce
+restlessness in them, and glanced from his wife to a gentleman who
+stood confronting him and then back to her in a strange and menacing
+way.
+
+Mrs. Abercrombie's face was deadly pale. She said a few words
+hurriedly to her husband, and then drew him from the parlor.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Elliott, crossing over and speaking
+to the gentleman against whom the anger of General Abercrombie had
+seemed to be directed.
+
+"Heaven knows," was answered, "unless he's jealous of his wife."
+
+"Very strange conduct," said one.
+
+"Been drinking too much," remarked another.
+
+"What did he do?" inquired a third.
+
+"Didn't you see it? Mr. Ertsen was promenading with Mrs.
+Abercrombie, when the general swept down upon them as fierce as a
+lion and took the lady from his arm."
+
+This was exaggeration. The thing was done more quietly, but still
+with enough of anger and menace to create something more than a
+ripple on the surface.
+
+A little while afterward the general and Mrs. Abercrombie were seen
+coming down stairs and going along the hall. His face was rigid and
+stern. He looked neither to the right nor the left, but with eyes
+set forward made his way toward the street door. Those who got a
+glimpse of Mrs. Abercrombie as she glided past saw a face that
+haunted them a long time afterward.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+
+
+
+AS General and Mrs. Abercrombie reached the vestibule, and the door
+shut behind them, the latter, seeing, that her husband was going out
+into the storm, which was now at its height, drew back, asking at
+the same time if their carriage had been called.
+
+The only answer made by General Abercrombie was a fiercely-uttered
+imprecation. Seizing at the same time the arm she had dropped from
+his, he drew her out of the vestibule and down the snow-covered step
+with a sudden violence that threw her to the ground. As he dragged
+her up he cursed her again in a cruel undertone, and then, grasping
+her arm, moved off in the very teeth of the blinding tempest, going
+so swiftly that she could not keep pace with him. Before they had
+gone a dozen steps she fell again.
+
+Struggling to her feet, helped up by the strong grasp of the madman
+whose hand was upon her arm, Mrs. Abercrombie tried to rally her
+bewildered thoughts. She knew that her life was in danger, but she
+knew also that much, if not everything, depended on her own conduct.
+The very extremity of her peril calmed her thoughts and gave them
+clearness and decision. Plunging forward as soon as his wife could
+recover herself again, General Abercrombie strode away with a speed
+that made it almost impossible for her to move on without falling,
+especially as the snow was lying deep and unbroken on the pavement,
+and her long dress, which she had not taken time to loop up before
+starting, dragged about her feet and impeded her steps. They had not
+gone half a block before she fell again. A wild beast could hardly
+have growled more savagely than did this insane man as he caught her
+up from the bed of snow into which she had fallen and shook her with
+fierce passion. A large, strong man, with an influx of demoniac,
+strength in every muscle, his wife was little more than a child in
+his hands. He could have crushed the life out of her at a single
+grip.
+
+Not a word or sound came from Mrs. Abercrombie. The snow that
+covered the earth was scarcely whiter than her rigid face. Her eyes,
+as the light of a flickering gas-lamp shone into them, hardly
+reflected back its gleam, so leaden was their despair.
+
+He shook her fiercely, the tightening grasp on her arms bruising the
+tender flesh, cursed her, and then, in a blind fury, cast her from
+him almost into the middle of the street, where she lay motionless,
+half buried in the snow. For some moments he stood looking at the
+prostrate form of his wife, on which the snow sifted rapidly down,
+making the dark garments white in so short a space of time that she
+seemed to fade from his view. It was this, perhaps, that wrought a
+sudden change in his feelings, for he sprang toward her, and taking
+her up in his arms, called her name anxiously. She did not reply by
+word or sign, He carried her back to the pavement and turned her
+face to the lamp; it was white and still, the eyes closed, the mouth
+shut rigidly.
+
+But Mrs. Abercrombie was not unconscious. Every sense was awake.
+
+"Edith! Edith!" her husband cried. His tones, anxious at first, now
+betrayed alarm. A carriage went by at the moment. He called to the
+driver, but was unheard or unheeded. Up and down the street, the air
+of which was so filled with snow that he could see only a short
+distance, he looked in vain for the form of a policeman or citizen.
+He was alone in the street at midnight, blocks away from his
+residence, a fierce storm raging in the air, the cold intense, and
+his wife apparently insensible in his arms. If anything could free
+his brain from its illusions, cause enough was here. He shouted
+aloud for help, but there came no answer on the wild careering
+winds. Another carriage went by, moving in ghostly silence, but his
+call to the driver was unheeded, as before.
+
+Feeling the chill of the intensely cold air going deeper and deeper,
+and conscious of the helplessness of their situation unless she used
+the strength that yet remained, Mrs. Abercrombie showed symptoms of
+returning life and power of action. Perceiving this, the general
+drew an arm around her for support and made a motion to go on again,
+to which she responded by moving forward, but with slow and not very
+steady steps. Soon, however, she walked more firmly, and began
+pressing on with a haste that ill accorded with the apparent
+condition out of which she had come only a few moments before.
+
+The insane are often singularly quick in perception, and General
+Abercrombie was for the time being as much insane as any patient of
+an asylum. It flashed into his mind that his wife had been deceiving
+him, had been pretending a faint, when she was as strong of limb and
+clear of intellect as when they left Mr. Birtwell's. At this thought
+the half-expelled devil that had been controlling him leaped back
+into his heart, filling it again with evil passions. But the wind
+was driving the fine, sand-like, sharp-cutting snow into his face
+with such force and volume as to half suffocate and bewilder him.
+Turning at this moment a corner of the street that brought him into
+the clear sweep of the storm, the wind struck him with a force that
+seemed given by a human hand, and threw him staggering against his
+wife, both falling.
+
+Struggling to his feet, General Abercrombie cursed his wife as he
+jerked her from the ground with a sudden force that came near
+dislocating her arm. She gave no word of remonstrance nor cry of
+pain or fear, but did all in her power to keep up with her husband
+as he drove on again with mad precipitation.
+
+How they got home Mrs. Abercrombie hardly knew, but home they were
+at last and in their own room, the door closed and locked and the
+key withdrawn by her husband, out of whose manner all the wild
+passion had gone. His movements were quiet and his voice when he
+spoke low, but his wife knew by the gleam of his restless eyes that
+thought and purpose were active.
+
+Their room was in the third story of a large boarding-house in a
+fashionable part of the city. The outlook was upon the street. The
+house was double, a wide hall running through the centre. There were
+four or five large rooms on this floor, all occupied. In the one
+adjoining theirs were a lady and gentleman who had been at Mr. and
+Mrs. Birtwell's party, and who drove up in a carriage just as the
+general and Mrs. Abercrombie, white with snow, came to the door.
+They entered together, the lady expressing surprise at their
+appearance, at which the general growled some incoherent sentences
+and strode away from them and up the stairs, Mrs. Abercrombie
+following close after him.
+
+"There's something wrong, I'm afraid," said the gentleman, whose
+name was Craig, as he and his wife gained their own room. "They went
+in a carriage, I know. What can it mean?"
+
+"I hope the general has not been drinking too much," remarked the
+wife.
+
+"I'm afraid he has. He used to be very intemperate, I've heard, but
+reformed a year or two ago, A man with any weakness in this
+direction would be in danger at an entertainment such as Mr. and
+Mrs. Birtwell gave to-night."
+
+"I saw the general taking wine with a lady," said Mrs. Craig.
+
+"If he took one glass, he would hardly set that as a limit. It were
+much easier to abstain altogether; and we know that if a man over
+whom drink has once gained the mastery ventures upon the smallest
+indulgence of his appetite he is almost sure to give way and to fall
+again. It's a strange thing, and sad as strange."
+
+"Hark!"
+
+Mr. Craig turned quickly toward the door which when opened made a
+communication between their apartment and that of General and Mrs.
+Abercrombie. It was shut, and fastened on both sides, so that it
+could not be opened by the occupants, of either room.
+
+A low but quickly-stifled cry had struck on the ears of Mr. and Mrs.
+Craig. They looked at each other with questioning glances for
+several moments, listening intently, but the cry was not repeated.
+
+"I don't like that," said Mr. Craig. He spoke with concern.
+
+"What can it mean?" asked his wife.
+
+"Heaven knows!" he replied.
+
+They sat silent and listening. A sharp click, which the ear of Mr.
+Craig detected as the sound made by the cocking of a pistol, struck
+upon the still air. He sprang to his feet and took a step or two
+toward the door leading into the hall, but his wife caught his arm
+and clung to it tightly.
+
+"No, no! Wait! wait!" she cried, in a deep whisper, while her face
+grew-ashen pale. For some moments they stood with repressed
+breathing, every instant expecting to hear the loud report of a
+pistol. But the deep silence remained unbroken for nearly a minute;
+then a dull movement of feet was heard in the room, and the opening
+and shutting of a drawer.
+
+"No, general, you will not do that," they heard Mrs. Abercrombie
+say, in a low, steady tone in which fear struggled with tenderness.
+
+"Why will I not do it?" was sternly demanded.
+
+They were standing near the door, so that their voices could be
+heard distinctly in the next room.
+
+"Because you love me too well," was the sweet, quiet answer. The
+voice of Mrs. Abercrombie did not betray a single tremor.
+
+All was hushed again. Then came another movement in the room, and
+the sound of a closing drawer. Mr. and Mrs. Craig were beginning to
+breathe more freely, when the noise as of some one springing
+suddenly upon another was heard, followed by a struggle and a
+choking cry. It continued so long that Mr. Craig ran out into the
+hall and knocked at the door of General Abercrombie's room. As he
+did so the noise of struggling ceased, and all grew still. The door
+was not opened to his summons, and after waiting for a little while
+he went back to his own room.
+
+"This is dreadful," he said. "What can it mean? The general must be
+insane from drink. Something will have to be done. He may be
+strangling his poor wife at this very moment. I cannot bear it. I
+must break open the door."
+
+Mr. Craig started toward the hall, but his wife seized hold of him
+and held him back.
+
+"No, no, no!" she cried, in a low voice. "Let them alone. It may be
+her only chance of safety. Hark!"
+
+The silence in General Abercrombie's room was again broken. A man's
+firm tread was on the floor and it could be heard passing clear
+across the apartment, then returning and then going from side to
+side. At length the sound of moving furniture was heard. It was as
+if a person were lifting a heavy wardrobe or bureau, and getting it
+with some difficulty from one part of the room to the other.
+
+"What can he be doing?" questioned Mrs. Craig, with great alarm.
+
+"He is going to barricade the door, most likely," replied her
+husband.
+
+"Barricade the door? What for? Good heavens, Mr. Craig! He may have
+killed his wife. She may be lying in there dead at this very moment.
+Oh, it is fearful! Can nothing be done?"
+
+"Nothing, that I know of, except to break into the room."
+
+"Hadn't you better rouse some of the boarders, or call a waiter and
+send for the police?"
+
+The voice of Mrs. Abercrombie was heard at this moment. It was calm
+and clear.
+
+"Let me help you, general," she said.
+
+The noise of moving furniture became instantly still. It seemed as
+if the madman had turned in surprise from his work and stood
+confronting his wife, but whether in wrath, or not it was impossible
+to conjecture. They might hear her fall to the floor, stricken down
+by her husband, or cry out in mortal agony at any moment. The
+suspense was dreadful.
+
+"Do it! I am ready."
+
+It was Mrs. Abercrombie speaking again, and in a calm, even voice.
+They heard once more and with curdling blood, the sharp click of a
+pistol-lock as the hammer was drawn back. They held their breaths in
+horror and suspense, not moving lest even the slightest sound they
+made should precipitate the impending tragedy.
+
+"I have been a good and true wife to you always, and I shall remain
+so even unto death."
+
+The deep pathos of her quiet voice brought tears to the eyes of Mr.
+and Mrs. Craig.
+
+"If you are tired of me, I am ready to go. Look into my eyes. You
+see that I am not afraid."
+
+It was still as death again. The clear, tender eyes that looked so
+steadily into those of General Abercrombie held him like a spell,
+and made his fingers so nerveless that they could not respond to the
+passion of the murderous fiend that possessed him. That was why the
+scared listeners did not hear the deadly report of the pistol he was
+holding within a few inches of his wife's head.
+
+"Let me put it away. It isn't a nice thing to have in a lady's
+chamber. You know I can't bear the sight of a pistol, and you love
+me too well to give me the smallest pain or uneasiness. That's a
+dear, good husband."
+
+They could almost see Mrs. Abercrombie take the deadly weapon from
+the general's hand. They heard her dress trailing across the room,
+and heard her open and shut and then lock a drawer. For some time
+afterward they could hear the low sound of voices, then all became
+silent again.
+
+"Give me that pistol!" startled them not long afterward in a sudden
+wild outbreak of frenzied passion.
+
+"What do you want with it?" they heard Mrs. Abercrombie ask. There
+was no sign of alarm in her tones.
+
+"Give me that pistol, I say!" The general's voice was angry and
+imperious. "How dared you take, it out of my hand!"
+
+"Oh, I thought you wished it put away because the sight of a pistol
+is unpleasant to me."
+
+And they heard the dress trailing across the room again.
+
+"Stop!" cried the general, in a commanding tone.
+
+"Just as you please, general. You can have the pistol, if you want
+it," answered Mrs. Abercrombie, without the smallest tremor in her
+voice. "Shall I get it for you?"
+
+"No!" He flung the word out angrily, giving it emphasis by an
+imprecation. Then followed a growl as if from an ill-natured beast,
+and they could hear his heavy tread across the floor.
+
+"Oh, general!" came suddenly from the lips of Mrs. Abercrombie, in a
+surprised, frightened tone. Then followed the sound of a repressed
+struggle, of an effort to get free without making a noise or outcry,
+which continued for a considerable time, accompanied by a low
+muttering and panting as of a man in some desperate effort.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Craig stood with pale faces, irresolute and powerless
+to help, whatever might be the extremity of their neighbor. To
+attempt a forcible entry into the room was a doubtful expedient, and
+might be attended with instant fatal consequences. The muttering and
+panting ceased at length, and so did all signs of struggling and
+resistance. The madman had wrought his will, whatever that might be.
+Breathlessly they listened, but not a sound broke the deep silence.
+Minutes passed, but the stillness reigned.
+
+"He may have killed her," whispered Mrs. Craig, with white lips. Her
+husband pressed his ear closely to the door.
+
+"Do you hear anything?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What?"
+
+They spoke in a low whisper.
+
+"Put your ear against the door."
+
+Mrs. Craig did so, and after a moment or two could hear a faint
+movement, as of something being pulled across the carpet. The sound
+was intermittent, now being very distinct and now ceasing
+altogether. The direction of the movement was toward that part of
+the room occupied by the bed. The listeners' strained sense of
+hearing was so acute that it was able to interpret the meaning of
+each varying sound. A body had been slowly dragged across the floor,
+and now, hushed and almost noiselessly as the work went on, they
+knew that the body was being lifted from the floor and placed upon
+the bed. For a little while all was quiet, but the movements soon
+began again, and were confined to the bed. Something was being done
+with the dead or unconscious body. What, it was impossible to make
+out or even guess. Mrs. Abercrombie might be lifeless, in a swoon or
+only feigning unconsciousness.
+
+"It won't do to let this go on any longer," said Mr. Craig as he
+came back from the door at which he had been listening. "I must call
+some of the boarders and have a consultation."
+
+He was turning to go out, when a sound as of a falling chair came
+from General Abercrombie's room, and caused him to stop and turn
+back, This was followed by the quick tread of heavy feet going up
+and down the chamber floor, and continuing without intermission for
+as much as five minutes. It stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and
+all was silent again. They knew that the general was standing close
+by the bed.
+
+"My God!" in a tone full, of anguish and fear dropped from his lips.
+"Edith! Edith! oh, Edith!" he called in a low wail of distress.
+"Speak to me, Edith! Why don't you speak to me?"
+
+They listened, but heard no answer. General Abercrombie called the
+name of his wife over and over again, and in terms of endearment,
+but for all Mr. and Mrs. Craig could tell she gave back no sign.
+
+"O my God! what have I done?" they heard him say, the words followed
+by a deep groan.
+
+"It is my time now;" and Mr. Craig ran out into the hall as he said
+this and knocked at the general's door. But no answer came. He
+knocked again, and louder than at first. After waiting for a short
+time he heard the key turn in the lock. The door was opened a few
+inches, and he saw through the aperture the haggard and almost
+ghastly face of General Abercrombie. His eyes were wild and
+distended.
+
+"What do you want?" he demanded, impatiently.
+
+"Is Mrs. Abercrombie sick? Can we do anything for you, general?"
+said Mr. Craig, uttering the sentences that came first to his
+tongue.
+
+"No!" in angry rejection of the offered service. The door shut with
+a jar, and the key turned in the lock. Mr. Craig stood for a moment
+irresolute, and then went back to his wife. Nothing more was heard
+in the adjoining room. Though they listened for a long time, no
+voice nor sound of any kind came to their ears. The general had, to
+all appearance, thrown himself upon the bed and fallen asleep.
+
+It was late on the next morning when Mr. and Mrs. Craig awoke. Their
+first thought was of their neighbors, General and Mrs. Abercrombie.
+The profoundest silence reigned in their apartments--a silence
+death-like and ominous.
+
+"If he has murdered her!" said Mrs. Craig, shivering at the thought
+as she spoke.
+
+"I hope not, but I shouldn't like to be the first one who goes into
+that room," replied her husband. Then, after a moment's reflection,
+he said:
+
+"If anything has gone wrong in there, we must be on our guard and
+make no admissions. It won't do for us to let it be known that we
+heard the dreadful things going on there that we did, and yet gave
+no alarm. I'm not satisfied with myself, and can hardly expect
+others to excuse where I condemn."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+
+
+
+WHEN Mr. and Mrs. Craig entered the breakfast-room, they saw, to
+their surprise, General Abercrombie and his wife sitting in their
+usual places. They bowed to each other, as was their custom on
+meeting at the table.
+
+The face of Mrs. Abercrombie was pale and her features pinched. She
+had the appearance of one who had been ill and was just recovering,
+or of one who had endured exhausting pain of mind or body. She arose
+from the table soon after Mr. and, Mrs. Craig made their appearance,
+and retired with her husband from the room.
+
+"The general is all out of sorts this morning," remarked a lady as
+soon as they were gone.
+
+"And so is Mrs. Abercrombie," said another. "Dissipation does not
+agree with them. They were at the grand party given last night by
+Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell. You were among the guests, Mrs. Craig?"
+
+The lady addressed bowed her affirmative.
+
+"A perfect jam, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who were there? But I needn't ask. All the world and his wife, of
+course, little bugs and big bugs. How was the entertainment?"
+
+"Splendid! I never saw such a profusion of everything."
+
+"Fools make feasts for wise men to eat," snapped out the sharp voice
+of a lady whose vinegar face gave little promise of enjoyment of any
+kind. "Nobody thinks any more of them for it. Better have given the
+money to some charity. There's want and suffering enough about,
+Heaven knows."
+
+"I don't imagine that the charity fund has suffered anything in
+consequence of Mr. Birtwell's costly entertainment," replied Mr.
+Craig. "If the money spent for last night's feast had not gone to
+the wine-merchant and the caterer, it would have remained as it
+was."
+
+The lady with the vinegar face said something about the Dives who
+have their good things here, adding, with a zest in her voice, that
+"Riches, thank God! can't be taken over to the other side, and your
+nabobs will be no better off after they die than the commonest
+beggars."
+
+"That will depend on something more than the money-aspect of the
+case," said Mr. Craig. "And as to the cost of giving a feast, what
+would be extravagance in one might only be a liberal hospitality in
+another. Cake and ice cream for my friends might be as lavish an
+expenditure for me as Mr. Birtwell's banquet last night was for him,
+and as likely to set me among the beggars when I get over to the
+other side."
+
+"Then you don't believe that God holds rich men to a strict account
+for the manner in which they spend the money he has placed in their
+hands? Are they not his almoners?"
+
+"No more than poor men, and not to be held to any stricter
+accountability," was replied. "Mr. Birtwell does not sin against the
+poor when he lavishes his hundreds, or it may be thousands, of
+dollars in the preparation of a feast for his friends any more than
+you do when you buy a box of French candies to eat alone in your
+room or share with your visitors, maybe not so much."
+
+There was a laugh at the expense of the vinegar-faced lady, who did
+not fail in a sharp retort which was more acid than convincing. The
+conversation then went back to General Abercrombie and his wife.
+
+"Didn't she look dreadful?" remarked one of the company.
+
+"And her manner toward the general was so singular."
+
+"In what respect?" asked Mrs. Craig.
+
+"She looked at him so strangely, so anxious and scared-like. I never
+knew him to be so silent. He's social and talkative, you know--such
+good company. But he hadn't a word to say this morning. Something
+has gone wrong between him and his wife. I wonder what it can be?"
+
+But Mr. and Mrs. Craig, who were not of the gossiping kind, were
+disposed to keep their own counsel.
+
+"I thought I heard some unusual noises in their room last night
+after they came home from the party," said a lady whose chamber was
+opposite theirs across the hall. "They seemed to be moving furniture
+about, and twice I thought I heard a scream. But then the storm was
+so high that one might easily have mistaken a wail of the wind for a
+cry of distress."
+
+"A cry of distress! You didn't imagine that the general was
+maltreating his wife?"
+
+"I intimated nothing of the kind," returned the lady.
+
+"But what made you think about a cry of distress?"
+
+"I merely said that I thought I heard a scream; and if you had been
+awake from twelve to one or two o'clock this morning, you would have
+thought the air full of wailing voices. The storm chafed about the
+roof and chimneys in a dreadful way. I never knew a wilder night."
+
+"You saw the general at the party?" said one, addressing Mr. Craig.
+
+"Yes, a few times. But there was a crowd in all the rooms, and the
+same people were not often thrown together."
+
+"Nothing unusual about him? Hadn't been drinking too much?"
+
+"Not when I observed him. But--" Mr. Craig hesitated a moment, and
+then went on: "But there's one thing has a strange look. They went
+in a carriage, I know, but walked home in all that dreadful storm."
+
+"Walked home!" Several pairs of eyes and hands were upraised.
+
+"Yes; they came to the door, white with snow, just as we got home."
+
+"How strange! What could it have meant?"
+
+"It meant," said one, "that their carriage disappointed
+them--nothing else, of course."
+
+"That will hardly explain it. Such disappointments rarely, if ever,
+occur," was replied to this.
+
+"Did you say anything to them, Mr. Craig?"
+
+"My wife did, but received only a gruff response from the general.
+Mrs. Abercrombie made no reply, but, went hastily after her husband.
+There was something unusual in the manner of both."
+
+While this conversation was going on General Abercrombie and his
+wife stood in the hall, she trying, but in vain, to persuade him not
+to go out. He said but little, answering her kindly, but with a
+marked decision of manner. Mrs. Abercrombie went up slowly to their
+room after he left her, walking as one who carried a heavy load. She
+looked ten years older than on the day previous.
+
+No one saw her during the morning. At dinner-time their places were
+vacant at the table.
+
+"Where are the general and his wife?" was asked as time passed and
+they did not make their appearance.
+
+No one had seen either of them since breakfast.
+
+Mrs. Craig knew that Mrs. Abercrombie had not been out of her room
+all the morning, but she did not feel inclined to take part in the
+conversation, and so said nothing.
+
+"I saw the general going into the Clarendon about two o'clock," said
+a gentleman. "He's dining with some friend, most probably."
+
+"I hear," remarked another, "that he acted rather strangely at Mr.
+Birtwell's last night."
+
+Every ear pricked up at this.
+
+"How?" "In what way?" "Tell us about it," came in quick response to
+the speaker's words.
+
+"I didn't get anything like a clear story. But there was some
+trouble about his wife."
+
+"About his wife?" Faces looked eagerly down and across the table.
+
+"What about his wife?" came from half a dozen lips.
+
+"He thought some one too intimate with her, I believe. A brother
+officer, if I am not mistaken. Some old flame, perhaps. But I
+couldn't learn any of the particulars."
+
+"Ah! That accounts for their singular conduct this morning. Was
+there much of a row?" This came from a thin-visaged young man with
+eye-glasses and a sparse, whitish moustache.
+
+"I didn't say anything about a row," was the rather sharp reply. "I
+only said that I heard that the general had acted strangely, and
+that there had been some trouble about his wife."
+
+"What was the trouble?" asked two or three anxious voices--anxious
+for some racy scandal.
+
+"Couldn't learn any of the particulars, only that he took his wife
+from a gentleman's arm in a rude kind of way, and left the party."
+
+"Oh! that accounts for their not coming home in a carriage," broke
+in one of the listeners.
+
+"Perhaps so. But who said they didn't ride home?"
+
+"Mr. Craig. He and Mrs. Craig saw them as they came to the door,
+covered with snow. They were walking."
+
+"Oh, you were at the party, Mr. Craig? Did you see or hear anything
+about this affair?"
+
+"Nothing," replied Mr. Craig. "If there had been any trouble, I
+should most likely have heard something of it."
+
+"I had my information from a gentleman who was there," said the
+other.
+
+"I don't question that," replied Mr. Craig. "A trifling incident but
+half understood will often give rise to exaggerated reports--so
+exaggerated that but little of the original truth remains in them.
+The general may have done something under the excitement of wine
+that gave color to the story now in circulation. I think that very
+possible. But I don't believe the affair to be half so bad as
+represented."
+
+While this conversation was going on Mrs. Abercrombie sat alone in
+her room. She had walked the floor restlessly as the time drew near
+for the general's return, but after the hour went by, and there was
+no sign of his coming, all the life seemed to go out of her. She was
+sitting now, or rather crouching down, in a large cushioned chair,
+her face white and still and her eyes fixed in a kind of frightened
+stare.
+
+Time passed, but she remained so motionless that but for her
+wide-open eyes you would have thought her asleep or dead.
+
+No one intruded upon her during the brief afternoon; and when
+darkness shut in, she was still sitting where she had dropped down
+nerveless from mental pain. After it grew dark Mrs. Abercrombie
+arose, lighted the gas and drew the window curtains. She then moved
+about the room putting things in order. Next she changed her dress
+and gave some careful attention to her personal appearance. The cold
+pallor which had been on her face all the afternoon gave way to a
+faint tinge of color, her eyes lost their stony fixedness and became
+restless and alert. But the trouble did not go out of her face or
+eyes; it was only more active in expression, more eager and
+expectant.
+
+After all the changes in her toilette had been made, Mrs.
+Abercrombie sat down again, waiting and listening. It was the
+general's usual time to come home from headquarters. How would he
+come? or would he come at all? These were the questions that
+agitated her soul. The sad, troubled humiliating, suffering past,
+how its records of sorrow and shame and fear kept unrolling
+themselves before her eyes! There was little if anything in these
+records to give hope or comfort. Ah! how many times had he fallen
+from his high estate of manhood, each time sinking lower and lower,
+and each time recovering himself from the fall with greater
+difficulty than before! He might never rise again. The chances were
+largely against him.
+
+How the wretched woman longed for yet dreaded the return of her
+husband! If he had been drinking again, as she feared, there, was
+before her a night of anguish and terror--a night which might have
+for her no awaking in the world. But she had learned to dread some
+things more than death.
+
+Time wore on until it was past the hour for General Abercrombie's
+return, and yet there was no sign of his coming. At last the loud
+clang of the supper-bell ringing through the halls gave her a sudden
+start. She clasped her hands across her forehead, while a look of
+anguish convulsed her face, then held them tightly against her heart
+and groaned aloud.
+
+"God pity us both!" she cried, in a low, wailing voice, striking her
+hands together and lifting upward her eyes, that were full of the
+deepest anguish.
+
+For a few moments her eyes were upraised. Then her head sunk forward
+upon her bosom, and she sat an image of helpless despair.
+
+A knock at the door roused her. She started to her feet and opened
+it with nervous haste.
+
+"A letter for you," said a servant.
+
+She took it from his hand and shut and locked the door before
+examining the handwriting on the envelope. It was that of her
+husband. She tore it open with trembling hand and read:
+
+"DEAR EDITH: An order requiring my presence in Washington to-morrow
+morning has just reached me, and I have only time to make the train.
+I shall be gone two or three days."
+
+The deep flush which excitement had spread over the face of Mrs.
+Abercrombie faded off, and the deadly pallor returned. Her hands
+shook so that the letter dropped out of them and fell to the floor.
+Another groan as of a breaking heart sobbed through her lips as she
+threw herself in despairing abandonment across the bed and buried
+her face deep among the pillows.
+
+She needed no interpreter to unfold the true meaning of that letter.
+Its unsteady and blotted words and its scrawled, uncertain signature
+told her too well of her husband's sad condition. His old enemy had
+stricken him down, his old strong, implacable enemy, always armed,
+always lying in wait for him, and always ready for the unguarded
+moment.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+
+
+
+DOCTOR HILLHOUSE was in his office one morning when a gentleman
+named Carlton, in whose family he had practiced for two or three
+years, came in. This was a few weeks before the party at Mr.
+Birtwell's.
+
+"Doctor"--there was a troubled look on his visitor's face--"I wish
+you would call in to-day and examine a lump on Mrs. Carlton's neck.
+It's been coming for two or three months. We thought it only the
+swelling of a gland at first, and expected it to go away in a little
+while. But in the last few weeks it has grown perceptibly."
+
+"How large is it?" inquired the doctor.
+
+"About the size of a pigeon's egg."
+
+"Indeed! So large?"
+
+"Yes; and I am beginning to feel very much concerned about it."
+
+"Is there any discoloration?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Any soreness or tenderness to the touch?"
+
+"No; but Mrs. Carlton is beginning to feel a sense of tightness and
+oppression, as though the lump, whatever it may be, were beginning
+to press upon some of the blood-vessels."
+
+"Nothing serious, I imagine," replied Dr. Hillhouse, speaking with a
+lightness of manner he did not feel. "I will call about twelve
+o'clock. Tell Mrs. Carlton to expect me at that time."
+
+Mr. Carlton made a movement to go, but came back from the door, and
+betraying more anxiety of manner than at first, said:
+
+"This may seem a light thing in your eyes, doctor, but I cannot help
+feeling troubled. I am afraid of a tumor."
+
+"What is the exact location?" asked Dr. Hillhouse.
+
+"On the side of the neck, a little back from the lower edge of the
+right ear."
+
+The doctor did not reply. After a brief silence Mr. Carlton said:
+
+"Do you think it a regular tumor, doctor?"
+
+"It is difficult to say. I can speak with more certainty after I
+have made an examination," replied Doctor Hillhouse, his manner
+showing some reserve.
+
+"If it should prove to be a tumor, cannot its growth be stopped? Is
+there no relief except through an operation--no curative agents that
+will restore a healthy action to the parts and cause the tumor to be
+absorbed?"
+
+"There is a class of tumors," replied the doctor, "that may be
+absorbed, but the treatment is prejudicial to the general health,
+and no wise physician will, I think, resort to it instead of a
+surgical operation, which is usually simple and safe."
+
+"Much depends on the location of a tumor," said Mr. Carlton. "The
+extirpation may be safe and easy if the operation be in one place,
+and difficult and dangerous if in another."
+
+"It is the surgeon's business to do his work so well that danger
+shall not exist in any case," replied Doctor Hillhouse.
+
+"I shall trust her in your hands," said Mr. Carlton, trying to
+assume a cheerful air. "But I cannot help feeling nervous and
+extremely anxious."
+
+"You are, of course, over-sensitive about everything that touches
+one so dear as your wife," replied the doctor. "But do not give
+yourself needless anxiety. Tumors in the neck are generally of the
+kind known as 'benignant,' and are easily removed."
+
+Dr. Angier came into the office while they were talking, and heard a
+part of the conversation. As soon as Mr. Carlton had retired he
+asked if the tumor were deep-seated or only a wen-like protuberance.
+
+"Deep-seated, I infer, from what Mr. Carlton said," replied Dr.
+Hillhouse.
+
+"What is her constitution?"
+
+"Not as free from a scrofulous tendency as I should like."
+
+"Then this tumor, if it should really prove to be one, may be of a
+malignant character."
+
+"That is possible. But I trust to find only a simple cyst, or, at
+the worst, an adipose or fibrous tumor easy of removal, though I am
+sorry it is in the neck. I never like to cut in among the large
+blood-vessels and tendons of that region."
+
+At twelve o'clock Doctor Hillhouse made the promised visit. He found
+Mrs. Carlton to all appearance quiet and cheerful.
+
+"My husband is apt to worry himself when anything ails me," she
+said, with a faint smile.
+
+The doctor took her hand and felt a low tremor of the nerves that
+betrayed the nervous anxiety she was trying hard to conceal. His
+first diagnosis was not satisfactory, and he was not able wholly to
+conceal his doubts from the keen observation of Mr. Carlton, whose
+eyes never turned for a moment from the doctor's face. The swelling
+was clearly outlined, but neither sharp nor protuberant. From the
+manner of its presentation, and also from the fact that Mrs. Carlton
+complained of a feeling of pressure on the vessels of the neck, the
+doctor feared the tumor was larger and more deeply seated than the
+lady's friends had suspected. But he was most concerned as to its
+true character. Being hard and nodulated, he feared that it might
+prove to be of a malignant type, and his apprehensions were
+increased by the fact that his patient had in her constitution a
+taint of scrofula. There was no apparent congestion of the veins nor
+discoloration of the skin around the hard protuberance, no
+pulsation, elasticity, fluctuation or soreness, only a solid lump
+which the doctor's sensitive touch recognized as the small section
+or lobule of a deeply-seated tumor already beginning to press upon
+and obstruct the blood vessels in its immediate vicinity. Whether it
+were fibrous or albuminous, "benignant" or "malignant," he was not
+able in his first diagnosis to determine.
+
+Dr. Hillhouse could not so veil his face as to hide from Mr. Carlton
+the doubt and concern that were in his mind.
+
+"Deal with me plainly," said the latter as he stood alone with the
+doctor after the examination was over. "I want the exact truth.
+Don't conceal anything."
+
+Mr. Carlton's lips trembled.
+
+"Is it a--a tumor?" He got the words out in a low, shaky voice.
+
+"I think so," replied Doctor Hillhouse. He saw the face of Mr.
+Carlton blanch instantly.
+
+"It presents," added the doctor, "all the indications of what we
+call a fibrous tumor."
+
+"Is it of a malignant type?" asked Mr. Carlton, with suspended
+breath.
+
+"No; these tumors are harmless in themselves, but their mechanical
+pressure on surrounding blood-vessels and tissues renders their
+removal necessary."
+
+Mr. Carlton caught his breath with a sigh of relief.
+
+"Is their removal attended with danger?" he asked.
+
+"None," replied Dr. Hillhouse.
+
+"Have you ever taken a tumor from the neck?"
+
+"Yes. I have operated in cases of this kind often."
+
+"Were you always successful?"
+
+"Yes; in every instance."
+
+Mr. Carlton breathed more freely. After a pause, he said, his lips
+growing white as he spoke:
+
+"There will have to be an operation in this case?"
+
+"It cannot, I fear, be avoided," replied the doctor.
+
+"There is one comfort," said Mr. Carlton, rallying and speaking in a
+more cheerful voice. "The tumor is small and superficial in
+character. The knife will not have to go very deep among the veins
+and arteries."
+
+Doctor Hillhouse did not correct his error.
+
+"How long will it take?" queried the anxious husband, to whom the
+thought of cutting down into the tender flesh of his wife was so
+painful that it completely unmanned him.
+
+"Not very long," answered the doctor.
+
+"Ten minutes?"
+
+"Yes, or maybe a little longer."
+
+"She will feel no pain?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Nor be conscious of what you are doing?"
+
+"She will be as much in oblivion as a sleeping infant," replied the
+doctor.
+
+Mr. Carlton turned from Dr. Hillhouse and walked the whole length of
+the parlor twice, then stood still, and said, with painful
+impressiveness:
+
+"Doctor, I place her in your hands. She is ready for anything we may
+decide upon as best."
+
+He stopped and turned partly away to hide his feelings. But
+recovering himself, and forcing a smile to his lips, he said:
+
+"To your professional eyes I show unmanly weakness. But you must
+bear in mind how very dear she is to me. It makes me shiver in every
+nerve to think of the knife going down into her tender flesh. You
+might cut me to pieces, doctor, if that would save her."
+
+"Your fears exaggerate everything," returned Doctor Hillhouse, in an
+assuring voice. "She will go into a tranquil sleep, and while
+dreaming pleasant dreams we will quickly dissect out the tumor, and
+leave the freed organs to continue their healthy action under the
+old laws of unobstructed life."
+
+"When ought it to be done?" asked Mr. Carlton the tremor coming back
+into his voice.
+
+"The sooner, the better, after an operation is decided upon,"
+answered the doctor. "I will make another examination in about two
+weeks. The changes that take place in that time will help me to a
+clearer decision than it is possible to arrive at now."
+
+After a lapse of two weeks Doctor Hillhouse, in company with another
+surgeon, made a second examination. What his conclusions were will
+appear in the following conversation held with Dr. Angier.
+
+"The tumor is not of a malignant character," Doctor Hillhouse
+replied, in answer to his assistant's inquiry. "But it is larger
+than I at first suspected and is growing very rapidly. From a slight
+suffusion of Mrs. Carlton's face which I did not observe at any
+previous visit, it is evident that the tumor is beginning to press
+upon the carotids. Serious displacements of blood-vessels, nerves,
+glands and muscles must soon occur if this growth goes on."
+
+"Then her life is in danger?" said Dr. Angier.
+
+"It is assuredly, and nothing but a successful operation can save
+her."
+
+"What does Doctor Kline think of the case?"
+
+"He agrees with me as to the character of the tumor, but thinks it
+larger than an orange, deeply cast among the great blood-vessels,
+and probably so attached to their sheaths as to make its extirpation
+not only difficult, but dangerous."
+
+"Will he assist you in the operation?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Dr. Hillhouse became thoughtful and silent. His countenance wore a
+serious, almost troubled aspect.
+
+"Never before," he said, after a long pause, "have I looked forward
+to an operation with such a feeling of concern as I look forward to
+this. Three or four months ago, when there was only a little sack
+there, it could have been removed without risk. But I greatly fear
+that in its rapid growth it has become largely attached to the
+blood-vessels and the sheaths of nerves, and you know how difficult
+this will make the operation, and that the risk will be largely
+increased. The fact is, doctor, I am free to say that it would be
+more agreeable to me if some other surgeon had the responsibility of
+this case."
+
+"Dr. Kline would, no doubt, be very ready to take it off of your
+hands."
+
+"If the family were satisfied, I would cheerfully delegate the work
+to him," said Doctor Hillhouse.
+
+"He's a younger man, and his recent brilliant operations have
+brought him quite prominently before, the public."
+
+As he spoke Doctor Hillhouse, who was past sixty-five and beginning
+to feel the effects of over forty years of earnest professional
+labor, lifted his small hand, the texture of which, was as fine as
+that of a woman's, and holding it up, looked at it steadily for some
+moments. It trembled just a little.
+
+"Not quite so firm as it was twenty years ago," he remarked, with a
+slight depression in his voice.
+
+"But the sight is clearer and the skill greater," said Doctor
+Angier.
+
+"I don't know about the sight." returned Doctor Hillhouse. "I'm
+afraid that is no truer than the hand."
+
+"The inner sight, I mean, the perception that comes from
+long-applied skill," said Doctor Angier. "That is something in which
+you have the advantage of younger men."
+
+Doctor Hillhouse made no reply to this, but sat like one in deep
+and, perplexed thought for a considerable time.
+
+"I must see Doctor Kline and go over the case with him more
+carefully," he remarked at length. "I shall then be able to see with
+more clearness what is best. The fact that I feel so averse to
+operating myself comes almost as a warning; and if no change should
+occur in my feelings, I shall, with the consent of the family,
+transfer the knife to Doctor Kline."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+
+
+
+MRS. CARLTON was a favorite in the circle where she moved; and when
+it became known that she would have to submit to a serious operation
+in order to save her life, she became an object of painful interest
+to her many friends. Among the most intimate of these was Mrs.
+Birtwell, who, as the time approached for the great trial, saw her
+almost every day.
+
+It was generally understood that Doctor Hillhouse, who was the
+family physician, would perform the operation. For a long series of
+years he had held the first rank as a surgeon. But younger men were
+coming forward in the city, and other reputations were being made
+that promised to be even more notable than his.
+
+Among those who were steadily achieving success in the walks of
+surgery was Doctor Kline, now over thirty-five years of age. He
+held a chair in one of the medical schools, and his name was growing
+more and more familiar to the public and the profession every year.
+
+The friends of Mrs. Carlton were divided on the question as to who
+could best perform the operation, some favoring Doctor Kline and
+some Doctor Hillhouse.
+
+The only objection urged by any one against the latter was on
+account of his age.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Carlton had no doubt or hesitation on the subject.
+Their confidence in the skill of Doctor Hillhouse was complete. As
+for Doctor Kline, Mr. Carlton, who met him now and then at public
+dinners or at private social entertainments, had not failed to
+observe that he was rather free in his use of liquor, drinking so
+frequently on these occasions as to produce a noticeable
+exhilaration. He had even remarked upon the fact to gentlemen of his
+acquaintance, and found that others had noticed this weakness of
+Doctor Kline as well as himself.
+
+As time wore on Doctor Hillhouse grew more and more undecided. No
+matter how grave or difficult an operation might be, he had always,
+when satisfied of its necessity, gone forward, looking neither to
+the right nor to the left. But so troubled and uncertain did he
+become as the necessity for fixing an early day for the removal of
+this tumor became more and more apparent that he at last referred
+the whole matter to Mr. Carlton, and proposed that Doctor Kline,
+whose high reputation for surgical skill he knew, should be
+entrusted with the operation. To this he received an emphatic "No!"
+
+"All the profession award him the highest skill in our city, if not
+the whole country," said Doctor Hillhouse.
+
+"I have no doubt of his skill," replied Mr. Carlton. "But--"
+
+"What?" asked the doctor, as Mr. Carlton hesitated. "Are you not
+aware that he uses wine too freely?"
+
+Doctor Hillhouse was taken by surprise at this intimation.
+
+"No, I am not aware of anything of the kind," he replied, almost
+indignantly. "He is not a teetotaller, of course, any more than you
+or I. Socially and at dinner he takes his glass of wine, as we do.
+But to say that he uses liquor too freely is, I am sure, a
+mistake."
+
+"Some men, as you know, doctor, cannot use wine without a steady
+increase of the appetite until it finally gets the mastery, and I am
+afraid Doctor Kline is one of them."
+
+"I am greatly astonished to hear you say this," replied Dr.
+Hillhouse, "and I cannot but hold you mistaken."
+
+"Have you ever met him at a public dinner, at the club or at a
+private entertainment where there was plenty of wine?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"And observed no unusual exhilaration?"
+
+Dr. Hillhouse became reflective. Now that his attention was called
+to the matter, some doubts began to intrude themselves.
+
+"We cannot always judge the common life by what we see on convivial
+occasions," he made answer. "One may take wine freely with his
+friends and be as abstemious as an anchorite during business-or
+profession-hours."
+
+"Not at all probable," replied Mr. Carlton, "and not good in my
+observation. The appetite that leads a man into drinking more when
+among friends than his brain will carry steadily is not likely to
+sleep when he is alone. Any over-stimulation, as you know, doctor,
+leaves in the depressed state that follows a craving for renewed
+exhilaration. I am very sure that on the morning after one of the
+occasions to which I have referred Doctor Kline finds himself in no
+condition for the work of a delicate surgical operation until he has
+steadied his relaxed nerves with more than a single glass."
+
+He paused for a moment, and then said, with strong emphasis:
+
+"The hand, Doctor Hillhouse, that cuts down into her dear flesh must
+be steadied by healthy nerves, and not by wine or brandy. No, sir; I
+will not hear to it. I will not have Doctor Kline. In your hands,
+and yours alone, I trust my wife in this great extremity."
+
+"That is for you to decide," returned Dr. Hillhouse. "I felt it to
+be only right to give you an opportunity to avail of Doctor Kline's
+acknowledged skill. I am sure you can do so safely."
+
+But Mr. Carlton was very emphatic in his rejection of Dr. Kline.
+
+"I may be a little peculiar," he said, "but do you know I never
+trust any important interest with a man who drinks habitually?--one
+of your temperate drinkers, I mean, who can take his three or four
+glasses of wine at dinner, or twice that number, during an evening
+while playing at whist, but who never debases himself by so low a
+thing as intoxication."
+
+"Are not you a little peculiar, or, I might say, over-nice, in
+this?" remarked Doctor Hillhouse.
+
+"No, I am only prudent. Let me give you a fact in my own experience.
+I had a law-suit several years ago involving many thousands of
+dollars. My case was good, but some nice points of law were
+involved, and I needed for success the best talent the bar afforded.
+A Mr. B----, I will call him, stood very high in the profession, and
+I chose him for my counsel. He was a man of fine social qualities,
+and admirable for his after-dinner speeches. You always met him on
+public occasions. He was one of your good temperate drinkers and not
+afraid of a glass of wine, or even brandy, and rarely, if ever,
+refused a friend who asked him to drink.
+
+"He was not an intemperate man, of course. No one dreamed of setting
+him over among that banned and rejected class of men whom few trust,
+and against whom all are on guard. He held his place of honor and
+confidence side by side with the most trusted men in his profession.
+As a lawyer, interests of vast magnitude were often in his hands,
+and largely depended on his legal sagacity, clearness of thought and
+sleepless vigilance. He was usually successful in his cases.
+
+"I felt my cause safe in his hands--that is, as safe as human care
+and foresight could make it. But to my surprise and disappointment,
+his management of the case on the day of trial was faulty and blind.
+I had gone over all the points with him carefully, and he had seemed
+to hold them with a masterly hand. He was entirely confident of
+success, and so was I. But now he seemed to lose his grasp on the
+best points in the case, and to bring forward his evidence in a way
+that, in my view, damaged instead of making our side strong. Still,
+I forced myself to think that he knew best what to do, and that the
+meaning of his peculiar tactics should soon become apparent. I
+noticed, as the trial went on, a bearing of the opposing counsel
+toward Mr. B----that appeared unusual. He seemed bent on annoying
+him with little side issues and captious objections, not so much
+showing a disposition to meet him squarely, upon the simple and
+clearly defined elements of the case, as to draw him away from them
+and keep them as far out of sight as possible.
+
+"In this he was successful. Mr. B----seemed in his hands more like a
+bewildered child than a strong, clear-seeing man. When, after all
+the evidence was in, the arguments on both sides were submitted to
+the jury, I saw with alarm that Mr. B----had failed signally. His
+summing up was weak and disjointed, and he did not urge with force
+and clearness the vital points in the case on which all our hopes
+depended. The contrast of his closing argument with that of the
+other side was very great, and I knew when the jury retired from the
+court-room that all was lost, and so it proved.
+
+"It was clear to me that I had mistaken my man--that Mr. B----'s
+reputation was higher than his ability. He was greatly chagrined at
+the result, and urged me to take an appeal, saying he was confident
+we could get a reversal of the decision.
+
+"While yet undecided as to whether I would appeal or not, a friend
+who had been almost as much surprised and disappointed at the result
+of the trial as I was came to me in considerable excitement of
+manner, and said:
+
+"'I heard something this morning that will surprise you, I think, as
+much as it has surprised me. Has it never occurred to you that there
+was something strange about Mr. B----on the day your case was
+tried?'
+
+"'Yes,' I replied, 'it has often occurred to me; and the more I
+think about it, the more dissatisfied am with his management of my
+case. He is urging me to appeal; but should I do so, I have pretty
+well made up my mind to have other counsel.'
+
+"'That I should advise by all means,' returned my friend.
+
+"'The thought has come once or twice,' said I, 'that there might
+have been false play in the case.'
+
+"'There has been,' returned my friend.
+
+"What!' I exclaimed. 'False play? No, no, I will not believe so base
+a thing of Mr. B----.'
+
+"'I do not mean false play on his part,' replied my friend. 'Far be
+it from me to suggest a thought against his integrity of character.
+No, no! I believe him to be a man of honor. The false play, if there
+has been any, has been against him.'
+
+"'Against him?' I could but respond, with increasing surprise. Then
+a suspicion of the truth flashed into my mind.
+
+"'He had been drinking too much that morning,' said my friend. 'That
+was the meaning of his strange and defective management of the case,
+and of his confusion of ideas when he made his closing argument to
+the jury.'
+
+"It was clear to me now, and I wondered that I had not thought of it
+before. 'But,' I asked, 'what has this to do with foul play? You
+don't mean to intimate that his liquor was drugged?'
+
+"'No. The liquor was all right, so far as that goes,' he replied.
+'The story I heard was this. It came to me in rather a curious way.
+I was in the reading-room at the League this morning looking over a
+city paper, when I happened to hear your name spoken by one of two
+gentlemen who sat a little behind me talking in a confidential way,
+but in a louder key than they imagined. I could not help hearing
+what they said. After the mention of your name I listened with close
+attention, and found that they were talking about the law-suit, and
+about Mr. B----in connection therewith. "It was a sharp game," one
+of them said. "How was it done?" inquired the other.
+
+"'I partially held my breath,' continued my friend, 'so as not to
+lose a word. "Neatly enough," was the reply. "You see our friend the
+lawyer can't refuse a drink. He's got a strong head, and can take
+twice as much as the next man without showing it. A single glass
+makes no impression on him, unless it be to sharpen him up. So a
+plan was laid to get half a dozen glasses aboard, more or less,
+before court opened on the morning the case of Walker vs. Carlton
+was to be called. But not willing to trust to this, we had a
+wine-supper for his special benefit on the night before, so as to
+break his nerves a little and make him thirsty next morning. Well,
+you see, the thing worked, and B----drank his bottle or two, and
+went to bed pretty mellow. Of course he must tone up in the morning
+before leaving home, and so come out all right. He would tone up a
+little more on his way to his office, and then be all ready for
+business and bright as a new dollar. This would spoil all. So five
+of us arranged to meet him at as many different points on his way
+down town and ask him to drink. The thing worked like a charm. We
+got six glasses into him before he reached his office. I saw as soon
+as he came into court that it was a gone case for Carlton. B----had
+lost his head. And so it proved. We had an easy victory."'
+
+"I took the case out of B----'s hands," said Mr. Carlton, "and
+gained it in a higher court, the costs of both trials falling upon
+the other side. Since that time, Dr. Hillhouse, I have had some new
+views on the subject of moderate drinking, as it is called."
+
+"What are they?" asked the doctor.
+
+"An experience like this set me to thinking. If, I said to myself, a
+man uses wine, beer or spirits habitually, is there no danger that
+at some time when great interests, or even life itself, may be at
+stake, a glass too much may obscure his clear intellect and make him
+the instrument of loss or disaster? I pursued the subject, and as I
+did so was led to this conclusion--that society really suffers more,
+from what is called moderate drinking than it does from out-and-out
+drunkenness."
+
+"Few will agree with you in that conclusion," returned Doctor
+Hillhouse.
+
+"On the contrary," replied Mr. Carlton, "I think that most people,
+after looking at the subject from the right standpoint, will see it
+as I do."
+
+"Men who take a glass of wine at dinner and drink with a friend
+occasionally," remarked Doctor Hillhouse, "are not given to idleness,
+waste of property and abuse and neglect of their families, as we
+find to be the case with common drunkards. They don't fill our
+prisons and almshouses. Their wives and children do not go to swell
+the great army of beggars, paupers and criminals. I fear, my friend,
+that you are looking through the wrong end of your glass."
+
+"No; my glass is all right. The number of drunken men and women in
+the land is small compared to the number who drink moderately, and
+very few of them are to be found in places of trust or
+responsibility. As soon as a man is known to be a drunkard society
+puts a mark on him and sets him aside. If he is a physician, health
+and life are no longer entrusted to his care; if a lawyer, no man
+will give an important case into his hands. A ship-owner will not
+trust him with his vessel, though a more skilled navigator cannot be
+found; and he may be the best engineer in the land, yet will no
+railroad or steamship company trust him with life and property. So
+everywhere the drunkard is ignored. Society will not trust him, and
+he is limited in his power to do harm.
+
+"Not so with your moderate drinkers. They fill our highest places
+and we commit to their care our best and dearest interests. We put
+the drunkard aside because we know he cannot be trusted, and give to
+moderate drinkers, a sad percentage of whom are on the way to
+drunkenness, our unwavering confidence. They sail our ships, they
+drive our engines, they make and execute our laws, they take our
+lives in their hands as doctors and surgeons; we trust them to
+defend or maintain our legal rights, we confide to them our
+interests in hundreds of different ways that we would never dream of
+confiding to men who were regarded as intemperate. Is it not fair to
+conclude, knowing as we do how a glass of wine too much will confuse
+the brain and obscure the judgment, that society in trusting its
+great army of moderate drinkers is suffering loss far beyond
+anything we imagine? A doctor loses his patient, a lawyer his case,
+an engineer wrecks his ship or train, an agent hurts his principal
+by a loose or bad bargain, and all because the head had lost for a
+brief space its normal clearness.
+
+"Men hurt themselves through moderate drinking in thousands of
+ways," continued Mr. Carlton. "We have but to think for a moment to
+see this. Many a fatal document has been signed, many a disastrous
+contract made, many a ruinous bargain consummated, which but for the
+glass of wine taken at the wrong moment would have been rejected.
+Men under the excitement of drink often enter into the unwise
+schemes of designing men only to lose heavily, and sometimes to
+encounter ruin. The gambler entices his victim to drink, while he
+keeps his own head clear. He knows the confusing quality of wine."
+
+"You make out rather a strong case," said Doctor Hillhouse.
+
+"Too strong, do you think?"
+
+"Perhaps not. Looking at the thing through your eyes, Mr. Carlton,
+moderate drinking is an evil of great magnitude."
+
+"It is assuredly, and far greater, as I have said, than is generally
+supposed. The children of this world are very wise, and some of
+them, I am sorry to add, very unscrupulous in gaining their ends.
+They know the power of all the agencies that are around them, and do
+not scruple to make use of whatever comes to their hand. Three or
+four capitalists are invited to meet at a gentleman's house to
+consider some proposition he has to lay before them. They are
+liberally supplied with wine, and drink without a lurking suspicion
+of what the service of good wine means. They see in it only the
+common hospitality of the day, and fail to notice that one or two of
+the company never empty their glasses. On the next day these men
+will most likely feel some doubt as to the prudence of certain large
+subscriptions made on the previous afternoon or evening, and wonder
+how they could have been so infatuated as to put money into a scheme
+that promised little beyond a permanent investment.
+
+"If," added Mr. Carlton, "we could come at any proximate estimate of
+the loss which falls upon society in consequence of the moderate use
+of intoxicating drinks, we would find that it exceeded a
+hundred--nay, a thousand--fold that of the losses sustained through
+drunkenness. Against the latter society is all the while seeking to
+guard itself, against the former it has little or no
+protection--does not, in fact, comprehend the magnitude of its power
+for evil. But I have wearied you with my talk, and forgotten for the
+time being the anxiety that lies so near my heart. No, doctor, I
+will not trust the hand of Doctor Kline, skillful as it may be, to
+do this work; for I cannot be sure that a glass too much may not
+have been taken to steady the nerves a night's excess of wine may
+have left unstrung."
+
+Doctor Hillhouse sat with closely knit brows for some time after Mr.
+Carlton ceased speaking.
+
+"There is matter for grave consideration in what you have said," he
+remarked, at length, "though I apprehend your fears in regard to
+Doctor Kline are more conjectural than real."
+
+"I hope so," returned Mr. Carlton, "but as a prudent man I will not
+take needless risk in the face of danger. If an operation cannot be
+avoided, I will trust that precious life to none but you."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+
+
+
+WE have seen how it was with Doctor Hillhouse on the morning of the
+day fixed for the operation. The very danger that Mr. Carlton sought
+to avert in his rejection of Doctor Kline was at his door. Not
+having attended the party at Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell's, he did not
+know that Doctor Hillhouse had, with most of the company, indulged
+freely in wine. If a suspicion of the truth had come to him, he
+would have refused to let the operation proceed. But like a
+passenger in some swiftly-moving car who has faith in the clear head
+and steady hand of the engineer, his confidence in Doctor Hillhouse
+gave him a feeling of security.
+
+But far from this condition of faith in himself was the eminent
+surgeon in whom he was reposing his confidence. He had, alas!
+tarried too long at the feast of wine and fat things dispensed by
+Mr. Birtwell, and in his effort to restore the relaxed tension of
+his nerves by stimulation had sent too sudden an impulse to his
+brain, and roused it to morbid action. His coffee failed to soothe
+the unquiet nerves, his stomach turned from the food on which he had
+depended for a restoration of the equipoise which the night's
+excesses had destroyed. The dangerous condition of Mrs. Ridley and
+his forced visit to that lady in the early morning, when he should
+have been free from all unusual effort and excitement, but added to
+his disturbance.
+
+Doctor Hillhouse knew all about the previous habits of Mr. Ridley,
+and was much interested in his case. He had seen with hope and
+pleasure the steadiness with which he was leading his new life, and
+was beginning to have strong faith in his future. But when he met
+him on that morning, he knew by unerring signs that the evening at
+Mr. Birtwell's had been to him one of debauch instead of restrained
+conviviality. The extremity of his wife's condition, and his almost
+insane appeals that he would hold her back from death, shocked still
+further the doctor's already quivering nerves.
+
+The imminent peril in which Doctor Hillhouse found Mrs. Ridley
+determined him to call in another physician for consultation. As
+twelve o'clock on that day had been fixed for the operation on Mrs.
+Carlton, it was absolutely necessary to get his mind as free as
+possible from all causes of anxiety or excitement, and the best
+thing in this extremity was to get his patient into the hands of a
+brother in the profession who could relieve him temporarily from
+_all_ responsibility, and watch the case with all needed care in its
+swiftly approaching crisis. So he sent Doctor Angier, immediately on
+his return from his visit to Mrs. Ridley, with a request to Doctor
+Ainsworth, a physician of standing and experience, to meet him in
+consultation at ten o'clock.
+
+Precisely at ten the physicians arrived at the house of Mr. Ridley,
+and were admitted by that gentleman, whose pale, haggard, frightened
+face told of his anguish and alarm. They asked him no questions, and
+he preceded them in silence to the chamber of his sick wife. It
+needed no second glance at their patient to tell the two doctors
+that she was in great extremity. Her pinched face was ashen in color
+and damp with a cold sweat, and her eyes, no longer wild and
+restless, looked piteous and anxious, as of one in dreadful
+suffering who pleaded mutely for help. An examination of her pulse
+showed the beat to be frequent and feeble, and on the slightest
+movement she gave signs of pain. Her respiration was short and very
+rapid. Mr. Ridley was present, and standing in a position that
+enabled him to observe the faces of the two doctors as they
+proceeded with their examination. Hope died as he saw the
+significant changes that passed over them. When they left the
+sick-chamber, he left also, and walked the floor anxiously while
+they sat in consultation, talking together in low tones. Now and
+then he caught words, such as "peritoneum," "lesion," "perforation,"
+etc., the fatal meaning of which he more than half guessed.
+
+They were still in consultation when a sudden cry broke from the
+lips of Mrs. Ridley; and rising hastily, they went back to her
+chamber. Her face was distorted and her body writhing with pain.
+
+Doctor Hillhouse wrote a prescription hastily, saying to Mr. Ridley
+as he gave it to him: "Opium, and get it as quickly as you can."
+
+The sick woman had scarcely a moment's freedom from pain of a most
+excruciating character during the ten minutes that elapsed before
+her husband's return. The quantity of opium administered was large,
+and its effects soon apparent in a gradual breaking down of the
+pains, which had been almost spasmodic in their character.
+
+When Doctor Hillhouse went away, leaving Doctor Ainsworth in charge
+of his patient, she was sinking: into a quiet sleep. On arriving at
+his office he found Mr. Wilmer Voss impatiently awaiting his return.
+
+"Doctor," said this gentleman, starting up on seeing him and showing
+considerable agitation, "you must come to my wife immediately."
+
+Doctor Hillhouse felt stunned for an instant. He drew his hand
+tightly against his forehead, that was heavy with its dull,
+half-stupefying pain which, spite of what he could do, still held
+on. All his nerves were unstrung.
+
+"How is she?" he asked, with the manner of one who had received an
+unwelcome message. His hand was still held against his forehead.
+
+"She broke all down a little while ago, and now lies moaning and
+shivering. Oh, doctor, come right away! You know how weak she is.
+This dreadful suspense will kill her, I'm afraid."
+
+"Have you no word of Archie yet?" asked Doctor Hillhouse as he
+dropped the hand he had been holding against his forehead and
+temples.
+
+"None! So far, we are without a sign."
+
+"What are you doing?"
+
+"Everything that can be thought of. More than twenty of our friends,
+in concert with the police, are at work in all conceivable ways to
+get trace of him, but from the moment he left Mr. Birtwell's he
+dropped out of sight as completely as if the sea had gone over him.
+Up to this time not the smallest clue to this dreadful mystery has
+been found. But come, doctor. Every moment is precious."
+
+Doctor Hillhouse drew out his watch. It was now nearly half-past ten
+o'clock. His manner was nervous, verging on to excitement. In almost
+any other case he would have said that it was not possible for him
+to go. But the exigency and the peculiarly distressing circumstances
+attending upon this made it next to impossible for him to refuse.
+
+"At twelve o'clock, Mr. Voss, I have a delicate and difficult
+operation to perform, and I have too short a time now for the
+preparation I need. I am sure you can rely fully on my assistant,
+Doctor Angler."
+
+"No, no!" replied Mr. Voss, waving his hand almost impatiently. "I do
+not want Doctor Angier. You must see Mrs. Voss yourself."
+
+He was imperative, almost angry. What was the delicate and difficult
+operation to him? What was anything or anybody that stood in the way
+of succor for his imperiled wife? He could not pause to think of
+others' needs or danger.
+
+Doctor Hillhouse had to decide quickly, and his decision was on the
+side where pressure was strongest. He could not deny Mr. Voss.
+
+He found the poor distressed mother in a condition of utter
+prostration. For a little while after coming out of the swoon into
+which her first wild fears had thrown her, she had been able to
+maintain a tolerably calm exterior. But the very effort to do this
+was a draught on her strength, and in a few hours, under the
+continued suspense of waiting and hearing nothing from her boy, the
+overstrained nerves broke down again, and she sunk into a condition
+of half-conscious suffering that was painful to see.
+
+For such conditions medicine can do but little. All that Doctor
+Hillhouse ventured to prescribe was a quieting draught. It was after
+eleven o'clock when he got back to his office, where he found Mr.
+Ridley waiting for him with a note from Doctor Ainsworth.
+
+"Come for just a single moment," the note said. "There are marked
+changes in her condition."
+
+"I cannot! It is impossible!" exclaimed Doctor Hillhouse, with an
+excitement of manner he could not repress. Doctor Ainsworth can do
+all that it is in the power of medical skill to accomplish. It will
+not help her for me to go again now, and another life is in my
+hands. I am sorry, Mr. Ridley, but I cannot see your wife again
+until this afternoon.
+
+"Oh, doctor, doctor, don't say that!" cried the poor, distressed
+husband, clasping his hands and looking at Doctor Hillhouse with a
+pale, imploring face. "Just for single moment, doctor. Postpone your
+operation. Ten minutes, or even an hour, can be of no consequence.
+But life or death may depend on your seeing my wife at once. Come,
+doctor! Come, for God's sake!"
+
+Doctor Hillhouse looked at his watch again, stood in a bewildered,
+uncertain way for a few moments, and then turned quickly toward the
+door and went out, Mr. Ridley following.
+
+"Get in," he said, waving his hand in the direction of his carriage,
+which still remained in front of his office. Mr. Ridley obeyed.
+Doctor Hillhouse gave the driver a hurried direction, and sprang in
+after him. They rode in silence for the whole distance to Mr.
+Ridley's dwelling.
+
+One glance at the face of the sick woman was enough to show Doctor
+Hillhouse that she was beyond the reach of professional skill. Her
+disease, as he had before seen, had taken on its worst form, and was
+running its fatal course with a malignant impetuosity it was
+impossible to arrest. The wild fever of anxiety occasioned by her
+husband's absence during that dreadful night, the cold to which, in
+her delirium of fear, she had exposed herself, the great shock her
+delicate organism had sustained at a time when even the slightest
+disturbance might lead to serious consequences,--all these causes
+combined had so broken down her vitality and poisoned her blood that
+nature had no force strong enough to rally against the enemies of
+her life.
+
+A groan that sounded like a wail of desperation broke from Mr.
+Ridley's lips as he came in with the doctor and looked at the
+death-stricken countenance of his wife. The two physicians gazed at
+each other with ominous faces, and stood silent and helpless at the
+bedside.
+
+When Doctor Hillhouse hurried away ten minutes afterward he knew
+that he had looked for the last time upon his patient. Mr. Ridley
+did not attempt to detain him. Hope had expired, and he sat bowed
+and crushed, wishing that he could die.
+
+The large quantity of opium which had been taken by Mrs. Ridley held
+all her outward senses locked, and she passed away, soon after
+Doctor Hillhouse retired, without giving her husband a parting word
+or even a sign of recognition.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+
+
+
+WHEN Doctor Hillhouse arrived at his office, it lacked only a
+quarter of an hour to twelve, the time fixed for the operation on
+Mrs. Carlton. He found Doctor Kline and Doctor Angier, who were to
+assist him, both awaiting his return.
+
+"I thought twelve o'clock the hour?" said Doctor Kline as he came in
+hurriedly.
+
+"So it is. But everything has seemed to work adversely this morning.
+Mr. Ridley's wife is extremely ill--dying, in fact--and I have had
+to see her too or three times. Other calls have been imperative, and
+here I am within a quarter of an hour of the time fixed for a most
+delicate operation, and my preparations not half completed."
+
+Doctor Kline regarded him for a few moments, and then said:
+
+"This is unfortunate, doctor, and I would advise a postponement
+until to-morrow. You should have had a morning free from anything
+but unimportant calls."
+
+"Oh no. I cannot think of a postponement," Doctor Hillhouse replied.
+"All the arrangements have been made at Mr. Carlton's, and my
+patient is ready. To put it off for a single day might cause a
+reaction in her feelings and produce an unfavorable condition. It
+will have to be done to-day."
+
+"You must not think of keeping your appointment to the hour," said
+Doctor Kline, glancing at his watch. "Indeed, that would now be
+impossible. Doctor Angier had better go and say that we will be
+there within half an hour. Don't hurry yourself in the slightest
+degree. Take all the time you need to make yourself ready. I will
+remain and assist you as best I can."
+
+A clear-seeing and controlling mind was just what Doctor Hillhouse
+needed at that moment. He saw the value of Doctor Kline's
+suggestion, and promptly accepted it. Doctor Angier was despatched
+to the residence of Mr. Carlton to advise that gentleman of the
+brief delay and to make needed preparations for the work that was to
+be done.
+
+The very necessity felt by Doctor Hillhouse for a speedy repression
+of the excitement from which he was suffering helped to increase the
+disturbance, and it was only after he had used a stimulant stronger
+than he wished to take that he found his nerves becoming quiet and
+the hand on whose steadiness so much depended growing firm.
+
+At half-past twelve Doctor Hillhouse, in company with Doctor Kline,
+arrived at Mr. Carlton's. The white face and scared look of the
+female servant who admitted them showed how strongly fear and
+sympathy were at work in the house. She directed them to the room
+which had been set apart for their use. In the hall above Mr.
+Carlton met them, and returned with a trembling hand and silent
+pressure the salutation of the two physicians, who passed into a
+chamber next to the one occupied by their patient and quickly began
+the work of making everything ready. Acting from previous concert,
+they drew the table which had been provided into the best light
+afforded by the room, and then arranged instruments, bandages and
+all things needed for the work to be done.
+
+When all these preparations were completed, notice was given to Mrs.
+Carlton, who immediately entered from the adjoining room. She was a
+beautiful woman, in the very prime of life, and never had she
+appeared more beautiful than now. Her strong will had mastered fear,
+strength, courage and resignation looked out from her clear eyes and
+rested on her firm lips. She smiled, but did not speak. Doctor
+Hillhouse took her by the hand and led her to the table on which she
+was to lie during the operation, saying, as he did so, "It will be
+over in a few minutes, and you will not feel it as much as the
+scratch of a pin."
+
+She laid herself down without a moment's hesitation, and as she did
+so Doctor Angier, according to previous arrangement, presented a
+sponge saturated with ether to her nostrils, and in two minutes
+complete anaesthesis was produced. On the instant this took place
+Doctor Hillhouse made an incision and cut down quickly to the tumor.
+His hand was steady, and he seemed to be in perfect command of
+himself. The stimulants he had taken as a last resort were still
+active on brain and nerves. On reaching the tumor he found it, as he
+had feared, much larger than its surface presentation indicated. It
+was a hard, fibrous substance, and deeply seated among the veins,
+arteries and muscles of the neck. The surgeon's hand retained its
+firmness; there was a concentration of thought and purpose that gave
+science and skill their best results. It took over twenty minutes to
+dissect the tumor away from all the delicate organs upon which it
+had laid its grasp, and nearly half as long a time to stanch the
+flow of blood from the many small arteries which had been severed
+during the operation. One of these, larger than the rest, eluded for
+a time the efforts of Doctor Hillhouse at ligation, and he felt
+uncertain about it even after he had stopped the effusion of blood.
+In fact, his hand had become unsteady and his brain slightly
+confused. The active stimulant taken half an hour before was losing
+its effect and his nerves beginning to give way. He was no longer
+master of the situation, and the last and, as it proved, the most
+vital thing in the whole operation was done imperfectly.
+
+At the end of thirty-five minutes the patient, still under the
+influence of ether was carried back to her chamber and laid back
+upon her bed, quiet as a sleeping infant.
+
+"It is all over," said Doctor Hillhouse as the eyes of Mrs. Carlton
+unclosed a little while afterward and she looked up into his face.
+He was no longer the impassive surgeon, but the tender and
+sympathizing friend. His voice was flooded with feeling and moisture
+dimmed his eyes.
+
+What a look of sweet thankfulness came into the face of Mrs. Carlton
+as she whispered, "And I knew nothing of it!" Then, shutting her
+eyes and speaking to herself, she said, "It is wonderful. Thank God,
+thank God!"
+
+It was almost impossible to, restrain Mr. Carlton, so excessive was
+his delight when the long agony of suspense was over. Doctor
+Hillhouse had to grasp his arm tightly and hold him back as he
+stooped down over his wife. In the blindness of his great joy he
+would have lifted her in his arms.
+
+"Perfect quiet," said the doctor. "There must be nothing to give her
+heart a quicker pulsation. Doctor Angier will remain for half an
+hour to see that all goes well."
+
+The two surgeons then retired, Doctor Kline accompanying Doctor
+Hillhouse to his office. The latter was silent all the way. The
+strain over and the alcoholic stimulation gone, mind and body had
+alike lost their abnormal tension.
+
+"I must congratulate you, doctor," said the friendly surgeon who had
+assisted in the operation. "It was even more difficult than I had
+imagined. I never saw a case in which the sheathings of the internal
+jugular vein and carotid artery were so completely involved. The
+tumor had made its ugly adhesion all around them. I almost held my
+breath when the blood from a severed artery spurted over your
+scalpel and hid from sight the keen edge that was cutting around the
+internal jugular. A false movement of the hand at that instant might
+have been fatal."
+
+"Yes; and but for the clearness of that inner sight which, in great
+exigencies, so often supplements the failing natural vision, all
+might have been lost," replied Doctor Hillhouse, betraying in his
+unsteady voice the great reaction from which he was suffering. "If I
+had known," he added, "that the tumor was so large and its adhesion
+so extensive, I would not have operated to-day. In fact, I was in no
+condition for the performance of any operation. I committed a great
+indiscretion in going to Mr. Birtwell's last night. Late suppers and
+wine do not leave one's nerves in the best condition, as you and I
+know very well, doctor; and as a preparation for work such as we
+have had on hand to-day nothing could be worse."
+
+"Didn't I hear something about the disappearance of a young man who
+left Mr. Birtwell's at a late hour?" asked Doctor Kline.
+
+"Nothing has been heard of the son of Wilmer Voss since he went away
+from Mr. Birtwell's about one o'clock," replied Doctor Hillhouse,
+"and his family are in great distress about him. Mrs. Voss, who is
+one of my patients, is in very delicate health and when I saw her at
+eleven o'clock to-day was lying in a critical condition."
+
+"There is something singular about that party at Mr. and Mrs.
+Birtwell's, added Doctor Hillhouse, after a pause. I hardly know
+what to make of it."
+
+"Singular in what respect?" asked the other.
+
+The face of Doctor Hillhouse grew more serious:
+
+"You know Mr. Ridley, the lawyer? He was in Congress a few years
+ago."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He was very intemperate at one time, and fell so low that even his
+party rejected him. He then reformed and came to this city, where he
+entered upon the practice of his profession, and has been for a year
+or two advancing rapidly. I attended his wife a few days ago, and
+saw her yesterday afternoon, when she was continuing to do well.
+There were some indications of excitement about her, though whether
+from mental or physical causes I could not tell, but nothing to
+awaken concern. This morning I found her in a most critical
+condition. Puerperal fever had set in, with evident extensive
+peritoneal involvement. The case was malignant, all the abdominal
+viscera being more or less affected. I learned from the nurse that
+Mr. Ridley was away all night, and that Mrs. Ridley, who was
+restless and feverish through the evening, became agitated and
+slightly delirious after twelve o'clock, talking about and calling
+for her husband, whom she imagined dying in the storm, that now
+raged with dreadful violence. No help could be had all night; and
+when we saw her this morning, it was too late for medicine to
+control the fatal disease which was running its course with almost
+unprecedented rapidity. She was dying when I saw her at half-past
+eleven this morning. This case and that of Mrs. Voss were the ones
+that drew so largely on my time this morning, and helped to disturb
+me so much, and both were in consequence of Mr. Birtwell's party."
+
+"They might have an indirect connection with the party," returned
+Doctor Kline, "but can hardly be called legitimate consequences."
+
+"They are legitimate consequences of the free wine and brandy
+dispensed at Mr. Birtwell's," said Doctor Hillhouse. "Tempted by its
+sparkle and flavor, Archie Voss, as pure and promising a young man
+as you will find in the city, was lured on until he had taken more
+than his brain would bear. In this state he went out at midnight
+alone in a blinding storm and lost his way--how or where is not yet
+known. He may have been set upon and robbed and murdered in his
+helpless condition, or he may have fallen into a pit where he lies
+buried beneath the snow, or he may have wandered in his blind
+bewilderment to the river and gone down under its chilling waters.
+
+"Mr. Ridley, with his old appetite not dead, but only half asleep
+and lying in wait for an opportunity, goes also to Mr. Birtwell's,
+and the sparkle and flavor of wine and the invitations that are
+pressed upon him from all sides prove too much for his good
+resolutions. He tastes and falls. He goes in his right mind, and
+comes away so much intoxicated that he cannot find his way home. How
+he reached there at last I do not know--he must have been in some
+station-house until daylight; but when I saw him, his pitiable
+suffering and alarmed face made my heart ache. He had killed his
+wife! He, or the wine he found at Mr. Birtwell's? Which?"
+
+Doctor Hillhouse was nervous and excited, using stronger language
+than was his wont.
+
+"And I," he added, before Doctor Kline could respond--"I went to the
+party also, and the sparkle and flavor of wine and spirit of
+conviviality that pervaded the company lured me also--not weak like
+Archie, nor with a shattered self-control like Mr. Ridley--to drink
+far beyond the bounds of prudence, as my nervous condition to-day
+too surely indicates. A kind of fatality seems to have attended this
+party."
+
+The doctor gave a little shiver, which was observed by Doctor Kline.
+
+"Not a nervous chill?" said the latter, manifesting concern.
+
+"No; a moral chill, if I may use such a term," replied Doctor
+Hillhouse--"a shudder at the thought of what might have been as one
+of the consequences of Mr. Birtwell's liberal dispensation of wine."
+
+"The strain of the morning's work has been too much for you, doctor,
+and given your mind an unhealthy activity," said his companion. "You
+want rest and time for recuperation."
+
+"It would have been nothing except for the baleful effects of that
+party," answered the doctor, whose thought could not dissever itself
+from the unhappy consequences which had followed the carousal (is
+the word too strong?) at Mr. Birtwell's. "If I had not been betrayed
+into drinking wine enough to disturb seriously my nervous system and
+leave it weak and uncertain to-day, if Mr. Ridley had not been
+tempted to his fall, if poor Archie Voss had been at home last night
+instead of in the private drinking-saloon of one of our most
+respected citizens, do you think that hand," holding up his right
+hand as he spoke, "would have lost for a moment its cunning to-day
+and put in jeopardy a precious life?"
+
+The doctor rose from his chair in much excitement and walked
+nervously about the room.
+
+"It did not lose its cunning," said Doctor Kline, in a calm but
+emphatic voice. "I watched you from the moment of the first incision
+until the last artery was tied, and a truer hand I never saw."
+
+"Thank God that the stimulus which I had to substitute for nervous
+power held out as long as it did. If it had failed a few moments
+sooner, I might have--"
+
+Doctor Hillhouse checked himself and gave another little shudder.
+
+"Do you know, doctor," he said, after a pause speaking in a low,
+half-confidential tone and with great seriousness of manner, "when I
+severed that small artery as I was cutting close to the internal
+jugular vein and the jet of blood hid both the knife-points and the
+surrounding tissues, that for an instant I was in mental darkness
+and that I did not know whether I should cut to the right or to the
+left? If in that moment of darkness I had cut to the right, my
+instrument would have penetrated the jugular vein."
+
+It was several moments before either of the surgeons spoke again.
+There was a look something like fear in both their faces.
+
+"It is the last time," said Doctor Hillhouse, breaking at length the
+silence and speaking with unwonted emphasis, "that a drop of wine or
+brandy shall pass my lips within forty-eight hours of any
+operation."
+
+"I am not so sure that you will help as much as hurt by this
+abstinence," replied Doctor Kline. "If you are in the habit of using
+wine daily, I should say keep to your regular quantity. Any change
+will be a disturbance and break the fine nervous tension that is
+required. It is easy to account for your condition to-day. If you
+had taken only your one or two or three glasses yesterday as the
+case may be, and kept away from the excitement and--pardon me
+excesses of last night--anything beyond the ordinary rule in these
+things is an excess, you know--there would have been no failure of
+the nerves at a critical juncture."
+
+"Is not the mind clearer and the nerves steadier when sustained by
+healthy nutrition than when toned up by stimulants?" asked Doctor
+Hillhouse.
+
+"If stimulants have never been taken, yes. But you know that we all
+use stimulants in one form or another, and to suddenly remove them
+is to leave the nerves partially unstrung."
+
+"Which brings us face to face with the question whether or not
+alcoholic stimulants are hurtful to the delicate and wonderfully
+complicated machinery of the human body. I say alcoholic, for we
+know that all the stimulation we get from wine or beer comes from
+the presence of alcohol."
+
+While Doctor Hillhouse was speaking, the office bell rang violently.
+As soon as the door was opened a man came in hurriedly and handed
+him, a slip of paper on which were written these few words:
+
+"An artery has commenced bleeding. Come quickly! ANGIER"
+
+Doctor Hillhouse started to his feet and gave a quick order for his
+carriage. As it drove up to the office-door soon after, he sprang
+in, accompanied by Doctor Kline. He had left his case of instruments
+at the house with Doctor Angier.
+
+Not a word was spoken by either of the two men as they were whirled
+along over the snow, the wheels of the carriage giving back only a
+sharp crisping sound, but their faces were very sober.
+
+Mr. Carlton met them, looking greatly alarmed.
+
+"Oh, doctor," he exclaimed as he caught the hand of Doctor
+Hillhouse, almost crushing it in his grasp, "I am so glad you are
+here. I was afraid she might bleed to death."
+
+"No danger of that," replied Doctor Hillhouse, trying to look
+assured and to speak with confidence. "It is only the giving way of
+some small artery which will have to be tied again."
+
+On reaching his patient, Doctor Hillhouse found that one of the
+small arteries he had been compelled to sever in his work of cutting
+the tumor away from the surrounding parts was bleeding freely. Half
+a dozen handkerchiefs and napkins had already been saturated with
+blood; and as it still came freely, nothing was left but to reopen
+the wound and religate the artery.
+
+Ether was promptly given, and as soon as the patient was fairly
+under its influence the bandages were removed and the sutures by
+which the wound had been drawn together cut. The cavity left by the
+tumor was, of course, full of blood. This was taken out with
+sponges, when at the lower part of the orifice a thin jet of blood
+was visible. The surrounding parts had swollen, thus embedding the
+mouth of the artery so deeply that it could not be recovered without
+again using the knife. What followed will be best understood if
+given in the doctor's own words in a relation of the circumstances
+made by him a few years afterward.
+
+"As you will see," he said, "I was in the worst possible condition
+for an emergency like this. I had used no stimulus since returning
+from Mr. Carlton's though just going to order wine when the summons
+from Doctor Angier came. If I had taken a glass or two, it would
+have been better, but the imperative nature of the summons
+disconcerted me. I was just in the condition to be disturbed and
+confused. I remembered when too late the grave omission, and had
+partly resolved to ask Mr. Carlton for a glass of wine before
+proceeding to reopen the wound and search for the bleeding artery.
+But a too vivid recollection of my recent conversation with him
+about Doctor Kline prevented my doing so.
+
+"I felt my hand tremble as I removed the bandages and opened the
+deep cavity left by the displaced tumor. After the blood with which
+it was filled had been removed, I saw at the deepest part of the
+cavity the point from which the blood was flowing, and made an
+effort to recover the artery, which, owing to the uncertainty of
+hand which had followed the loss of stimulation, I had tied
+imperfectly. But it was soon apparent that the parts had swollen,
+and that I should have to cut deeper in order to get possession of
+the artery, which lay in close contact with the internal jugular
+vein. Doctor Kline was holding the head and shoulders of the patient
+in such a way as to give tension to all the vessels of the neck,
+while my assistant held open the lips of the wound, so that I could
+see well into the cavity.
+
+"My hand did not recover its steadiness. As I began cutting down to
+find the artery I seemed suddenly to be smitten with blindness and
+to lose a clear perception of what I was doing. It seemed as if some
+malignant spirit had for the moment got possession of me, coming in
+through the disorder wrought in my nervous system by over
+stimulation, and used the hand I could no longer see to guide the
+instrument I was holding, for death instead of life. I remember now
+that a sudden impulse seemed given to my arm as if some one had
+struck it a blow. Then a sound which it had never before been my
+misfortune to hear--and I pray God I may never hear it
+again--startled me to an agonized sense of the disaster I had
+wrought. Too well I knew the meaning of the lapping, hissing,
+sucking noise that instantly smote our ears. I had made a deep cut
+across the jugular vein, the wound gaping widely in consequence of
+the tension given to the vein by the position of the patient's head.
+A large quantity of air rushed in instantly.
+
+"An exclamation of alarm from Doctor Kline, as he changed the
+position of the patient's neck in order to force the lips of the
+wound together and stop the fatal influx of air, roused me from a
+momentary stupor, and I came back into complete self-possession. The
+fearful exigency of the moment gave to nerve and brain all the
+stimulus they required. Already there was a struggle for breath, and
+the face of Mrs. Carlton, which had been slightly suffused with
+color, became pale and distressed. Sufficient air had entered to
+change the condition of the blood in the right cavities of the
+heart, and prevent its free transmission to the lungs. We could hear
+a churning sound occasioned by the blood and air being whipped
+together in the heart, and on applying the hand to the chest could
+feel a strange thrilling or rasping sensation.
+
+"The most eminent surgeons differ in regard to the best treatment in
+cases like this, which are of very rare occurrence; to save life the
+promptest action is required. So large an opening as I had unhappily
+made in this vein could not be quickly closed, and with each
+inspiration of the patient more, air was sucked in, so that the
+blood in the right cavities of the heart soon became beaten into a
+spumous froth that could not be forced except in small quantities
+through the pulmonary vessels into the lungs.
+
+"The effect of a diminished supply of blood to the brain and nervous
+centres quickly became apparent in threatened syncope. Our only hope
+lay in closing the wound so completely that no more air could enter,
+and then removing from the heart and capillaries of the lungs the
+air already received, and now hindering the flow of blood to the
+brain. One mode of treatment recommended by French surgeons consists
+in introducing the pipe of a catheter through the wound, if in the
+right jugular vein--or if not, through an opening made for the
+purpose in that vein--and the withdrawal of the air from the right
+auricle of the heart by suction.
+
+"Doctor Kline favored this treatment, but I knew that it would be
+fatal. Any reopening of the wound now partially closed in order to
+introduce a tube, even if my instrument case had contained one of
+suitable size and length, must necessarily have admitted a large
+additional quantity of air, and so made death certain.
+
+"Indecision in a case like this is fatal. Nothing but the right
+thing done with an instant promptness can save the imperiled life.
+But what was the right thing? No more air must be permitted to
+enter, and the blood must be unloaded as quickly as possible of the
+air now obstructing its way to the lungs, so, that the brain might
+get a fresh supply before it was too late. We succeeded in the
+first, but not in the last. Too much air had entered, and my patient
+was beyond the reach of professional aid. She sank rapidly, and in
+less than an hour from the time my hand, robbed of its skill by
+wine, failed in its wonted cunning, she lay white and still before
+me."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+
+
+
+IT was late in the afternoon when Mrs. Voss came out of the deep
+sleep into which the quieting draught administered by Doctor
+Hillhouse had thrown her. She awoke from a dream so vivid that she
+believed it real.
+
+"Oh, Archie, my precious boy!" she exclaimed, starting up and
+reaching out her hands, a glad light beaming on her countenance.
+
+While her hands were still outstretched the light began to fade, and
+then died out as suddenly as when a curtain falls. The boy who stood
+before her in such clear presence had vanished. Her eyes swept about
+the room, but he was not there. A deadly pallor on her face, a groan
+on her lips, she fell back shuddering upon the pillow from which she
+had risen.
+
+Mr. Voss, who was sitting at the bedside, put his arm under her, and
+lifting her head, drew it against his breast, holding it there
+tightly, but not speaking. He had no comfort to give, no assuring
+word to offer. Not a ray of light had yet come in through the veil
+of mystery that hung so darkly over the fate of their absent boy.
+Many minutes passed ere the silence was broken. In that time the
+mother's heart had grown calmer. She was turning, in her weakness
+and despair, with religious trust, to the only One who was able to
+sustain her in this great and crushing sorrow.
+
+"He is in God's hands," she said, in a low voice, lifting her head
+from her husband's breast and looking into his face.
+
+"And he will take care of him," replied Mr. Voss, falling in with
+her thought.
+
+"Yes, we must trust him. He is present in every place. He knows
+where Archie is, and how to shield and succor him. O heavenly
+Father, protect our boy! If in danger, help and save him. And, O
+Father, give me strength to bear whatever may come."
+
+The mother closed her eyes and laid her head back upon her husband's
+bosom. The rigidity and distress went out of her face. In this hour
+of darkness and distress, God, to whom she looked and prayed for
+strength, came very close to her, and in his nearer presence there
+is always comfort.
+
+But as the day declined and the shadows off another dreary winter
+night began to draw their solemn curtains across the sky the
+mother's heart failed again, and a wild storm of fear and anguish
+swept over it. Neither policemen nor friends had been able to
+discover a trace of the missing young man, and advertisements were
+given out for the papers next morning offering a large reward for
+his restoration to his friends if living or for the recovery of his
+body if dead.
+
+The true cause of Archie's disappearance began to be feared by many
+of his friends. It did not seem possible that he could have dropped
+so completely out of sight unless on the theory that he had lost his
+way in the storm and fallen into the river. This suggestion as soon
+as it came to Mrs. Voss settled into a conviction. Her imagination
+brooded over the idea and brought the reality before her mind with
+such a cruel vividness that she almost saw the tragedy enacted, and
+heard again that cry of "Mother!" which had seemed to mingle with
+the wild shrieks of the tempest, but which came only to her inner
+sense.
+
+She dreamed that night a dream which, though it confirmed all this,
+tranquilized and comforted her. In a vision her boy stood by her
+bedside and smiled upon her with his old loving smile. He bent over
+and kissed her with his wonted tenderness; he laid his hand on her
+forehead with a soft pressure, and she felt the touch thrilling to
+her heart in sweet and tender impulses.
+
+"It is all well with me," he said; "I shall wait for you, mother."
+
+And then he bent over and kissed her again, the pressure of his lips
+bringing an unspeakable joy to her heart. With this joy filling and
+pervading it, she awoke. From that hour Mrs. Voss never doubted for
+a single moment that her son was dead, nor that he had come to her
+in a vision of the night. As a Christian woman with whom faith was
+no mere ideal thing or vague uncertainty, she accepted her great
+affliction as within the sphere and permission of a good and wise
+Providence, and submitted herself to the sad dispensation with a
+patience that surprised her friends.
+
+Months passed, and yet the mystery was unsolved. The large reward
+offered by Mr. Voss for the recovery of his son's remains kept
+hundreds of fishermen and others who frequented the river banks and
+shores of the bay leading down to the ocean on the alert. As the
+spring opened and the ice began to give way and float, these men
+examined every inlet, cove and bar where the tide in its ebb and
+flow might possibly have left the body for which they were in
+search; and one day, late in the month of March, they found it,
+three miles away from the city, where it had drifted by the current.
+
+The long-accepted theory of the young man's death was proved by this
+recovery of his body. No violence was found upon it. The diamond pin
+had not been taken from his shirt-bosom, nor the gold watch from his
+pocket. On the dial of his watch the hands, stopping their movement
+as the chill of the icy water struck the delicate machinery, had
+recorded the hour of his death--ten minutes to one o'clock.
+
+It was not possible, under the strain of such an affliction and the
+wear of a suspense that no human heart was able to endure without
+waste of life, for one in feeble health like Mrs. Voss to hold her
+own. Friends read in her patient face and quiet mouth, and eyes that
+had a far-away look, the signs of a coming change that could not be
+very far off.
+
+After the sad certainty came and the looking and longing and waiting
+were over, after the solemn services of the church had been said and
+the cast-off earthly garments of her precious boy hidden away from
+sight for ever, the mother's hold upon life grew feebler every day.
+She was slowly drifting out from the shores of time, and no hand was
+strong enough to hold her back. A sweet patience smoothed away the
+lines of suffering which months of sorrow and uncertainty had cut in
+her brow, the grieving curves of her pale lips were softened by
+tender submission, the far-off look was still in her eyes, but it
+was no longer fixed and dreary. Her thought went away from herself
+to others. The heavenly sphere into which she had come through
+submission to her Father's will and a humble looking to God for help
+and comfort began to pervade her soul and fill it with that divine
+self-forgetting which all who come spiritually near to him must
+feel.
+
+She could not go out and do strong and widely-felt work for
+humanity, could not lift up the fallen, nor help the weak, nor visit
+the sick, nor comfort the prisoner, though often her heart yearned
+to help and strengthen the suffering and the distressed. But few if
+any could come into the chamber where most of her days were spent
+without feeling the sphere of her higher and purer life, and many,
+influenced thereby, went out to do the good works to which she so
+longed to put her hands. So from the narrow bounds of her chamber
+went daily a power for good, and many who knew her not were helped
+or comforted or lifted into purer and better lives because of her
+patient submission to God and reception of his love into her soul.
+
+It is not surprising that one thought took a deep hold upon her. The
+real cause of Archie's death was the wine he had taken in the house
+of her friend. But for that he could never have lost his way in the
+streets of his native city, never have stepped from solid ground
+into the engulfing water.
+
+The lesson of this disaster was clear, and as Mrs. Voss brooded over
+it, the folly, the wrong--nay, the crime--of those who pour out wine
+like water for their guests in social entertainments magnified
+themselves in her thought, and thought found utterance in speech.
+Few came into her chamber upon whom she did not press a
+consideration of this great evil, the magnitude of which became
+greater as her mind dwelt upon it, and very few of these went away
+without being disturbed by questions not easily answered.
+
+One day one of her attentive friends who had called on her said:
+
+"I heard a sorrowful story yesterday, and can't get it out of my
+mind."
+
+Before Mrs. Voss could reply a servant came in with a card.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Birtwell. Ask her to come up."
+
+The visitor saw a slight shadow creep over her face, and knew its
+meaning. How could she ever hear the name or look into the face of
+Mrs. Birtwell without thinking of that dreadful night when her boy
+passed, almost at a single step, from the light and warmth of her
+beautiful home into the dark and frozen river? It had cost her a
+hard and painful struggle to so put down and hold in check her
+feelings as to be able to meet this friend, who had always been very
+near and dear to her. For a time, and while her distress of mind was
+so great as almost to endanger reason, she had refused to see Mrs.
+Birtwell; but as that lady never failed to call at least once a week
+to ask after her, always sending up her card and waiting for a
+reply, Mrs. Voss at last yielded, and the friends met again. Mrs.
+Birtwell would have thrown her arms about her and clasped her in a
+passion of tears to her heart, but something stronger than a visible
+barrier held her off, and she felt that she could never get as near
+to this beloved friend as of old. The interview was tender though
+reserved, neither making any reference to the sad event that was
+never a moment absent from their thoughts.
+
+After this Mrs. Birtwell came often, and a measure of the old
+feeling returned to Mrs. Voss. Still, the card of Mrs. Birtwell
+whenever it was placed in her hand by a servant never failed to
+bring a shadow and sometimes a chill to her heart.
+
+In a few moments Mrs. Birtwell entered the room; and after the usual
+greetings and some passing remarks, Mrs. Voss said, speaking to the
+lady with whom she had been conversing:
+
+"What were you going to say--about some sorrowful story, I mean?"
+
+The pleasant light which had come into the lady's face on meeting
+Mrs. Birtwell, faded out. She did not answer immediately, and showed
+some signs of embarrassment. But Mrs. Voss, not particularly
+noticing this, pressed her for the story. After a slight pause she
+said:
+
+"In visiting a friend yesterday I observed a young girl whom I had
+never seen at the house before. She was about fifteen or sixteen
+years of age, and had a face of great refinement and much beauty.
+But I noticed that it had a sad, shy expression. My friend did not
+introduce her, but said, turning to the girl a few moments after I
+came in:
+
+"'Go up to the nursery, Ethel, and wait until I am disengaged!'
+
+"As the girl left the room I asked, 'Who is that young lady?'
+remarking at the same time that there was something peculiarly
+interesting about her.
+
+"'It's a sad case, remarked my friend, her voice falling to a tone
+of regret and sympathy. 'And I wish I knew just what to do about
+it.'
+
+"'Who is the young girl?' I asked repeating my question.
+
+"'The daughter of a Mr. Ridley,' she replied."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell gave a little start, while an expression of pain
+crossed her face. The lady did not look at her, but she felt the
+change her mention of Mr. Ridley had produced.
+
+"'What of him?' I asked; not having heard the name before.
+
+"'Oh, I thought you knew about him. He's a lawyer, formerly a member
+of Congress, and a man of brilliant talents. He distinguished
+himself at Washington, and for a time attracted much attention there
+for his ability as well as for his fine personal qualities. But
+unhappily he became intemperate, and at the end of his second term
+had fallen so low that his party abandoned him and sent another in
+his place. After that he reformed and came to this city, bringing
+his family with him. He had two children, a boy and a girl. His wife
+was a cultivated and very superior woman. Here he commenced the
+practice of law, and soon by his talents and devotion to business
+acquired a good practice and regained the social position he had
+lost.
+
+"'Unhappily, his return to society was his return to the sphere of
+danger. If invited to dine with a respectable citizen, he had to
+encounter temptation in one of its most enticing forms. Good wine
+was poured for him, and both appetite and pride urged him to accept
+the fatal proffer. If he went to a public or private entertainment,
+the same perils compassed him about. From all these he is said to
+have held himself aloof for over a year, but his reputation at the
+bar and connection with important cases brought him more and more
+into notice, and he was finally drawn within the circle of danger.
+Mrs. Ridley's personal accomplishments and relationship with one or
+two families in the State of high social position brought her calls
+and invitations, and almost forced her back again into society, much
+as she would have preferred to remain secluded.
+
+"'Mr. Ridley, it is said, felt his danger, and I am told never
+escorted any lady but his wife to the supper-room at a ball or
+party, and there you would always see them close together, he not
+touching wine. But it happened last winter that invitations came,
+for one of the largest parties of the season, and it happened also
+that only a few nights before the party a little daughter had been
+born to Mrs. Ridley. Mr. Ridley went alone. It was a cold and stormy
+night. The wind blew fiercely, wailing about the roofs and chimneys
+and dashing the fast-falling snow in its wild passion against the
+windows of the room in which his sick wife lay. Rest of body and
+mind was impossible, freedom from anxiety impossible. There was
+everything to fear, everything to lose. The peril of a soldier going
+into the hottest of the battle was not greater than the peril that
+her husband would encounter on that night; and if he fell! The
+thought chilled her blood, as well it might, and sent a shiver to
+her heart.
+
+"'She was in no condition to bear any shock or strain, much less the
+shock and strain of a fear like this. As best she could she held her
+restless anxiety in check, though fever had crept into her blood and
+an enemy to her life was assaulting its very citadel. But as the
+hour at which her husband had promised to return passed by and he
+came not, anxiety gave place to terror. The fever in her blood
+increased, and sent delirium to her brain. Hours passed, but her
+husband did not return. Not until the cold dawn of the next
+sorrowful morning did he make his appearance, and then in such a
+wretched plight that it was well for his unhappy wife that she could
+not recognize his condition. He came too late--came from one of the
+police stations, it is said, having been found in the street too
+much intoxicated to find his way home, and in danger of perishing in
+the snow--came to find his wife, dying, and before the sun went down
+on that day of darkness she was cold and still as marble. Happily
+for the babe, it went the way its mother had taken, following a few
+days afterward.
+
+"'That was months ago. Alas for the wretched man! He has never risen
+from that terrible fall, never even made an effort, it is said, to
+struggle to his feet again. He gave up in despair.
+
+"'His eldest child, Ethel, the young lady you saw just now, was away
+from home at school when her mother died. Think of what a coming
+back was hers! My heart grows sick in trying to imagine it. Poor
+child! she has my deepest sympathy.
+
+"'Ethel did not return to school. She was needed at home now. The
+death of her mother and the unhappy fall of her father brought her
+face to face with new duties and untried conditions. She had a
+little brother only six years old to whom she must be a mother as
+well as sister. Responsibilities from which women of matured years
+and long experience might well shrink were now at the feet of this
+tender girl, and there was no escape for her. She must stoop, and
+with fragile form and hands scarce stronger than a child's lift and
+bear them up from the ground. Love gave her strength and courage.
+The woman hidden in the child came forth, and with a self-denial and
+self-devotion that touches me to tears when I think of it took up
+the new life and new burdens, and has borne them ever since with a
+patience that is truly heroic.
+
+"'But new duties are now laid upon her. Since her father's fall his
+practice has been neglected, and few indeed have been willing to
+entrust him with business. The little he had accumulated is all
+gone. One article of furniture after another has been sold to buy
+food and clothing, until scarcely anything is left. And now they
+occupy three small rooms in an out-of-the-way neighborhood, and
+Ethel, poor child! is brought face to face with the question of
+bread.'"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE voice of the speaker broke as she uttered the last sentence. A
+deep silence fell upon the little company. Mrs. Birtwell had turned
+her face, so that it could not be seen, and tears that she was
+unable to keep back were falling over it. She was first to speak.
+
+"What," she asked, "was this young lady doing at the house of your
+friend?"
+
+"She had applied for the situation of day-governess. My friend
+advertised, and Ethel Ridley, not knowing that the lady had any
+knowledge of her or her family came and offered herself for the
+place. Not being able to decide what was best to be done, she
+requested Ethel to call again on the next day, and I came in while
+she was there."
+
+"Did your friend engage her?" asked Mrs. Birtwell.
+
+"She had not done so when I saw her yesterday. The question of
+fitness for the position was one that she had not been able to
+determine. Ethel is young and inexperienced. But she will do all for
+her that lies in her power."
+
+"What is your friend's name?" asked Mrs. Birtwell.
+
+"The lady I refer to is Mrs. Sandford. You know her, I believe?"
+
+"Mrs. Sandford? Yes; I know her very well."
+
+By a mutual and tacit consent the subject was here dropped, and soon
+after Mrs. Birtwell retired. On gaining the street she stood with an
+air of indetermination for a little while, and then walked slowly
+away. Once or twice before reaching the end of the block she paused
+and went back a few steps, turned and moved on again, but still in
+an undecided manner. At the corner she stopped for several moments,
+then, as if her mind was made up, walked forward rapidly. By the
+firm set of her mouth and the contraction of her brows it was
+evident that some strong purpose was taking shape in her thoughts.
+
+As she was passing a handsome residence before which a carriage was
+standing a lady came out. She had been making a call. On seeing her
+Mrs. Birtwell stopped, and reaching out her hand, said:
+
+"Mrs. Sandford! Oh, I'm glad to see you. I was just going to your
+house."
+
+The lady took her hand, and grasping it warmly, responded:
+
+"And I'm right glad to see you, Mrs. Birtwell. I've been thinking
+about you all day. Step into the carriage. I shall drive directly
+home."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell accepted the invitation. As the carriage moved away
+she said:
+
+"I heard something to-day that troubles me. I am told that Mr.
+Ridley, since the death of his wife, has become very intemperate,
+and that his family are destitute--so much so, indeed, that his
+daughter has applied to you for the situation of day-governess in
+order to earn something for their support."
+
+"It is too true," replied Mrs. Sandford. "The poor child came to see
+me in answer to an advertisement."
+
+"Have you engaged her?"
+
+"No. She is too young and inexperienced for the place. But something
+must be done for her."
+
+"What? Have you thought out anything? You may count on my sympathy
+and co-operation."
+
+"The first thing to be done," replied Mrs. Sandford, "is to lift her
+out of her present wretched condition. She must not be left where
+she is, burdened with the support of her drunken and debased father.
+She is too weak for that--too young and beautiful and innocent to be
+left amid the temptations and sorrows of a life such as she must
+lead if no one comes to her rescue."
+
+"But what will become of her father if you remove his child from
+him?" asked Mrs. Birtwell.
+
+Her voice betrayed concern. The carriage stopped at the residence of
+Mrs. Sandford, and the two ladies went in.
+
+"What will become of her wretched father?"
+
+Mrs. Birtwell repeated her question as they entered the parlors.
+
+"He is beyond our reach," was answered. "When a man falls so low,
+the case is hopeless. He is the slave of an appetite that never
+gives up its victims. It is a sad and a sorrowful thing, I know, to
+abandon all efforts to save a human soul, to see it go drafting off
+into the rapids with the sound of the cataract in your ears, and it
+is still more sad and sorrowful to be obliged to hold back the
+loving ones who could only perish in their vain attempts at rescue.
+So I view the case. Ethel must not be permitted to sacrifice herself
+for her father."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell sat for a long time without replying. Her eyes were
+bent upon the floor.
+
+"Hopeless!" she murmured, at length, in a low voice that betrayed
+the pain she felt. "Surely that cannot be so. While there is life
+there must be hope. God is not dead."
+
+She uttered the last sentence with a strong rising inflection in her
+tones.
+
+"But the drunkard seems dead to all the saving influences that God
+or man can bring to bear upon him," replied Mrs. Sandford.
+
+"No, no, no! I will not believe it," said Mrs. Birtwell, speaking
+now with great decision of manner. "God can and does save to the
+uttermost all who come unto him."
+
+"Yes, all who come unto him. But men like Mr. Ridley seem to have
+lost the power of going to God."
+
+"Then is it not our duty to help them to go? A man with a broken leg
+cannot walk to the home where love and care await him, but his Good
+Samaritan neighbor who finds him by the way can help him thither.
+The traveler benumbed with cold lies helpless in the road, and will
+perish if some merciful hand does not lift him up and bear him to a
+place of safety. Even so these unhappy men who, as you say, seem to
+have lost the power of returning to God, can be lifted up, I am
+sure, and set down, as it were, in his very presence, there to feel
+his saving, comforting and renewing power."
+
+"Perhaps so. Nothing is impossible," said Mrs. Sandford, with but
+little assent in her voice. "But who is to lift them up and where
+will you take them? Let us instance Mr. Ridley for the sake of
+illustration. What will you do with him? How will you go about the
+work of rescue? Tell me."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell had nothing to propose. She only felt an intense
+yearning to save this man, and in her yearning an undefined
+confidence had been born. There must be away to save even the
+most wretched and abandoned of human beings, if we could but find
+that way, and so she would not give up her hope of Mr. Ridley--nay,
+her hope grew stronger every moment; and to all the suggestions of
+Mrs. Sanford looking to help for the daughter she supplemented
+something that included the father, and so pressed her views that
+the other became half impatient and exclaimed:
+
+"I will have nothing to do with the miserable wretch!"
+
+Mrs. Birtwell went away with a heavy heart after leaving a small sum
+of money for Mrs. Sandford to use as her judgment might dictate,
+saying that she would call and see her again in a few days.
+
+The Rev. Mr. Brantly Elliott was sitting in his pleasant study,
+engaged in writing, when a servant opened the door and said:
+
+"A gentleman wishes to see you, sir."
+
+"What name?" asked the clergyman.
+
+"He did not give me his name. I asked him, but he said it wasn't any
+matter. I think he's been drinking, sir."
+
+"Ask him to send his name," said Mr. Elliott, a slight shade of
+displeasure settling over his pleasant face.
+
+The servant came back with information that the visitor's name was
+Ridley. At mention of this name the expression on Mr. Elliott's
+countenance changed:
+
+"Did you say he was in liquor?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Shall I tell him that you cannot see him, sir?"
+
+"No. Is he very much the worse for drink?"
+
+"He's pretty bad, I should say, sir."
+
+Mr. Elliott reflected for a little while, and then said:
+
+"I will see him."
+
+The servant retired. In a few minutes he came back, and opening the
+door, let the visitor pass in. He stood for a few moments, with his
+hand on the door, as if unwilling to leave Mr. Elliott alone with
+the miserable-looking creature he had brought to the study.
+Observing him hesitate, Mr. Elliott said:
+
+"That will do, Richard."
+
+The servant shut the door, and he was alone with Mr. Ridley. Of the
+man's sad story he was not altogether ignorant. His fall from the
+high position to which he had risen in two years and utter
+abandonment of himself to drink were matters of too much notoriety
+to have escaped his knowledge. But that he was in the slightest
+degree responsible for this wreck of a human soul was so far from
+his imagination as that of his responsibility for the last notorious
+murder or bank-robbery.
+
+The man who now stood before him was a pitiable-looking object
+indeed. Not that he was ragged or filthy in attire or person. Though
+all his garments were poor and threadbare, they were not soiled nor
+in disorder. Either a natural instinct of personal cleanliness yet
+remained or a loving hand had cared for him. But he was pitiable in
+the signs of a wrecked and fallen manhood that were visible
+everywhere about him. You saw it most in his face, once so full of
+strength and intelligence, now so weak and dull and disfigured. The
+mouth so mobile and strong only a few short months before was now
+drooping and weak, its fine chiseling all obliterated or overlaid
+with fever crusts. His eyes, once steady and clear as eagles', were
+now bloodshotten and restless.
+
+He stood looking fixedly at Mr. Elliott, and with a gleam in his
+eyes that gave the latter a strange feeling of discomfort, if not
+uneasiness.
+
+"Mr. Ridley," said the clergyman, advancing to his visitor and
+extending his hand. He spoke kindly, yet with a reserve that could
+not be laid aside. "What can I do for you?"
+
+A chair was offered, and Mr. Ridley sat down. He had come with a
+purpose; that was plain from his manner.
+
+"I am sorry to see you in this condition, Mr. Ridley," said the
+clergyman, who felt it to be his duty to speak a word of reproof.
+
+"In what condition, sir?" demanded the visitor, drawing himself up
+with an air of offended dignity. "I don't understand you."
+
+"You have been drinking," said Mr. Elliott, in a tone of severity.
+
+"No, sir. I deny it, sir!" and the eyes of Mr. Ridley flashed.
+"Before Heaven, sir, not a drop has passed my lips to-day!"
+
+His breath, loaded with the fumes of a recent glass of whisky, was
+filling the clergyman's nostrils. Mr. Elliott was confounded by this
+denial. What was to be done with such a man?
+
+"Not a drop, sir," repeated Mr. Ridley. "The vile stuff is killing
+me. I must give it up."
+
+"It is your only hope," said the clergyman. "You must give up the
+vile stuff, as you call it, or it will indeed kill you."
+
+"That's just why I've come to you, Mr. Elliott. You understand this
+matter better than most people. I've heard you talk."
+
+"Heard me talk?"
+
+"Yes, sir. It's pure wine that the people want. My sentiments
+exactly. If we had pure wine, we'd have no drunkenness. You know
+that as well as I do. I've heard you talk, Mr. Elliott, and you talk
+right--yes, right, sir."
+
+"When did you hear me talk?" asked Mr. Elliott, who was beginning to
+feel worried.
+
+"Oh, at a party last winter. I was there and heard you."
+
+"What did I say?"
+
+"Just these words, and they took right hold of me. You said that
+'pure wine could hurt no one, unless indeed his appetite were
+vitiated by the use of alcohol, and even then you believed that the
+moderate use of strictly pure wine would restore the normal taste
+and free a man from the tyranny of an enslaving vice.' That set me
+to thinking. It sounded just right. And then you were a clergyman,
+you see, and had studied out these things and so your opinion was
+worth something. There's no reason in your cold-water men; they
+don't believe in anything but their patent cut-off. In their eyes
+wine is an abomination, the mother of all evil, though the Bible
+doesn't say so, Mr. Elliott, does it?"
+
+At this reference to the Bible in connection with wine, the
+clergyman's memory supplied a few passages that were not at the
+moment pleasant to recall. Such as, "Wine is a mocker;" "Look not
+upon the wine when it is red;" "Who hath woe? who hath sorrow? ...
+They that tarry long at the wine;" "At last it biteth like a
+serpent, and stingeth like an adder."
+
+"The Bible speaks often of the misuse of wine," he answered, "and
+strongly condemns drunkenness."
+
+"Of course it does, and gluttony as well. But against the moderate
+use of good wine not a word is said. Isn't that so, sir?"
+
+"Six months ago you were a sober man, Mr. Ridley, and a useful and
+eminent citizen. Why did you not remain so?"
+
+Mr. Elliott almost held his breath for the answer. He had waived the
+discussion into which his visitor was drifting, and put his question
+almost desperately.
+
+"Because your remedy failed." Mr. Ridley spoke in a repressed voice,
+but with a deliberate utterance. There was a glitter in his eyes,
+out of which looked an evil triumph.
+
+"My remedy? What remedy?"
+
+"The good wine remedy. I tried it at Mr. Birtwell's one night last
+winter. But it didn't work. _And here I am!_"
+
+Mr. Elliott made no reply. A blow from the arm of a strong man could
+not have hurt or stunned him more.
+
+"You needn't feel so dreadfully about it," said Mr. Ridley seeing
+the effect produced on the clergy man. "It wasn't any fault of
+yours. The prescription was all right, but, you see, the wine wasn't
+good. If it had been pure, the kind you drink, all would have been
+well. I should have gained strength instead of having the props
+knocked from under me."
+
+But Mr. Elliott did not answer. The magnitude of the evil wrought
+through his unguarded speech appalled him. He had learned, in his
+profession, to estimate the value of a human soul, or rather to
+consider it as of priceless value. And here was a human soul cast by
+his hand into a river whose swift waters were hurrying it on to
+destruction. The sudden anguish that he felt sent beads of sweat to
+his forehead and drew his flexible lips into rigid lines.
+
+"Now, don't be troubled about it," urged Mr. Ridley. "You were all
+right. It was Mr. Birtwell's bad wine that did the mischief."
+
+Then his manner changed, and his voice falling to a tone of
+solicitation, he said:
+
+"And now, Mr. Elliott, you know good wine--you don't have anything
+else. I believe in your theory as much as I believe in my existence.
+It stands to reason. I'm all broken up and run down. Not much left
+of me, you see. Bad liquor is killing me, and I can't stop. If I do,
+I shall die.' God help me!"
+
+His voice shook now, and the muscles of his face quivered.
+
+"Some good wine--some pure wine, Mr. Elliott!" he went on, his voice
+rising and his manner becoming more excited. "It's all over with me
+unless I can get pure wine. Save me, Mr. Elliott, save me, for God's
+sake!"
+
+The miserable man held out his hands imploringly. There was wild
+look in his face. He was trembling from head to foot.
+
+"One glass of pure wine, Mr. Elliott--just one glass." Thus he kept
+on pleading for the stimulant his insatiable appetite was craving.
+"I'm a drowning man. The floods are about me. I am sinking in dark
+waters. And you can save me if you will!"
+
+Seeing denial still on the clergyman's face, Mr. Ridley's manner
+changed, becoming angry and violent.
+
+"You will not?" he cried, starting from the chair in which he had
+been sitting and advancing toward Mr. Elliott.
+
+"I cannot. I dare not. You have been drinking too much already,"
+replied the clergyman, stepping back as Mr. Ridley came forward
+until he reached the bell-rope, which he jerked violently. The door
+of his study opened instantly. His servant, not, liking the
+visitor's appearance, had remained in the hall outside and came in
+the moment he heard the bell. On seeing him enter, Mr. Ridley turned
+from the clergyman and stood like one at bay. His eyes had a fiery
+gleam; there was anger on his brow and defiance in the hard lines of
+his mouth. He scowled at the servant threateningly. The latter, a
+strong and resolute man, only waited for an order to remove the
+visitor, which he would have done in a very summary way, but Mr.
+Elliott wanted no violence.
+
+The group formed a striking tableau, and to any spectator who could
+have viewed it one of intense interest. For a little while Mr.
+Ridley and the servant stood scowling at each other. Then came a
+sudden change. A start, a look of alarm, followed by a low cry of
+fear, and Mr. Ridley sprang toward the door, and was out of the room
+and hurrying down stairs before a movement could be made to
+intercept him, even if there had been on the part of the other two
+men any wish to do so.
+
+Mr. Elliott stood listening to the sound of his departing feet until
+the heavy jar of the outer door resounded through the passages and
+all became still. A motion of his hand caused the servant to retire,
+As he went out Mr. Elliott sank into a chair. His face had become
+pale and distressed. He was sick at heart and sorely troubled. What
+did all this mean? Had his unconsidered words brought forth fruit
+like this? Was he indeed responsible for the fall of a weak brother
+and all the sad and sorrowful consequences which had followed? He
+was overwhelmed, crushed down, agonized by the thought, It was the
+bitterest moment in all his life.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+
+
+
+MR. ELLIOTT still sat in a kind of helpless maze when his servant
+came in with the card of Mrs. Spencer Birtwell. He read the name
+almost with a start. Nothing, it seemed to him, could have been more
+inopportune, for now he remembered with painful distinctness that it
+was at the party given by Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell that Ridley had
+yielded to temptation and fallen, never, he feared, to rise again.
+
+Mrs. Birtwell met him with a very serious aspect.
+
+"I am in trouble," was the first sentence that passed her lips as
+she took the clergyman's hand and looked into his sober countenance.
+
+"About what?" asked Mr. Elliott.
+
+They sat down, regarding each other earnestly.
+
+"Mr. Elliott," said the lady, with solemn impressiveness, "it is an
+awful thing to feel that through your act a soul may be lost."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell saw the light go out of her minister's face and a look
+of pain sweep over it.
+
+"An awful thing indeed," he returned, in a voice that betrayed the
+agitation from which he was still suffering.
+
+"I want to talk with you about a matter that distresses me deeply,"
+said Mrs. Birtwell, wondering as she spoke at Mr. Elliott's singular
+betrayal of feeling.
+
+"If I can help you, I shall do so gladly," replied the clergyman.
+"What is the ground of your trouble?"
+
+"You remember Mr. Ridley?"
+
+Mrs. Birtwell saw the clergyman start and the spasm of pain sweep
+over his face once more.
+
+"Yes," he replied, in a husky whisper. But he rallied himself with
+an effort and asked, "What of him?" in a clear and steady voice.
+
+"Mr. Ridley had been intemperate before coming to the city, but
+after settling here he kept himself free from his old bad habits,
+and was fast regaining the high position he had lost. I met his wife
+a number of times. She was a very superior woman; and the more I saw
+of her, the more I was drawn to her. We sent them cards for our
+party last winter. Mrs. Ridley was sick and could not come. Mr.
+Ridley came, and--and--" Mrs. Birtwell lost her voice for a moment,
+then added: "You know what I would say. We put the cup to his lips,
+we tempted him with wine, and he fell."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell covered her face with her hands. A few strong sobs
+shook her frame.
+
+"He fell," she added as soon as she could recover herself," and
+still lies, prostrate and helpless, in the grasp of a cruel enemy
+into whose power we betrayed him."
+
+"But you did it ignorantly," said Mr. Elliott.
+
+"There was no intention on your part to betray him. You did not know
+that your friend was his deadly foe."
+
+"My friend?" queried Mrs. Birtwell. She did not take his meaning.
+
+"The wine, I mean. While to you and me it may be only a pleasant and
+cheery friend, to one like Mr. Ridley it may be the deadliest of
+enemies."
+
+"An enemy to most people, I fear," returned Mrs. Birtwell, "and the
+more dangerous because a hidden foe. In the end it biteth like a
+serpent and stingeth like an adder."
+
+Her closing sentence cut like a knife, and Mr. Elliott felt the
+sharp edge.
+
+"He fell," resumed Mrs. Birtwell, "but the hurt was not with him
+alone. His wife died on the next day, and it has been said that the
+condition in which he came home from our house gave her a shock that
+killed her."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell shivered.
+
+"People say a great many things," returned Mr. Elliott, "and this, I
+doubt not is greatly exaggerated. Have you asked Doctor Hillhouse in
+regard to the facts in the case? He attended Mrs. Ridley, I think."
+
+"No. I've been afraid to ask him."
+
+"It might relieve your mind."
+
+"Do you think I would feel any better if he said yea instead of nay?
+No, Mr. Elliott. I am afraid to question him."
+
+"It's a sad affair," remarked the clergyman, gloomily, "and I don't
+see what is to be done about a it. When a man falls as low as Mr.
+Ridley has fallen, the case seems hopeless."
+
+"Don't say hopeless, Mr. Elliott." responded Mrs. Birtwell, her
+voice still more troubled. "Until a man is dead he is not wholly
+lost. The hand of God is not stayed, and he can save to the
+uttermost."
+
+"All who come unto him," added the clergyman, in a depressed voice
+that had in it the knell of a human soul. "But these besotted men
+will not go to him. I am helpless and in despair of salvation, when
+I stand face to face with a confirmed drunkard. All one's care and
+thought and effort seem wasted, You lift them up to-day, and they
+fall to-morrow. Good resolutions, solemn promises, written pledges,
+go for nothing. They seem to have fallen below the sphere in which
+God's saving power operates."
+
+"No, no, no, Mr. Elliott. I cannot, I will not, believe it," was the
+strongly-uttered reply of Mrs. Birtwell. "I do not believe that any
+man can fall below this potent sphere."
+
+A deep, sigh came from the clergyman's lips, a dreary expression
+crept into his face. There was a heavy weight upon his heart, and he
+felt weak and depressed.
+
+"Something must be done." There was the impulse of a strong resolve
+in Mrs. Birtwell's tones.
+
+"God works by human agencies. If we hold back and let our hands lie
+idle, he cannot make us his instruments. If we say that this poor
+fallen fellow-creature cannot be lifted out of his degradation and
+turn away that he may perish, God is powerless to help him through
+us. Oh, sir, I cannot do this and be conscience clear. I helped him
+to fall, and, God giving me strength, I will help him to rise
+again."
+
+Her closing sentence fell with rebuking force upon the clergyman. He
+too was oppressed by a heavy weight of responsibility. If the sin of
+this man's fall was upon the garments of Mrs. Birtwell, his were not
+stainless. Their condemnation was equal, their duty one.
+
+"Ah!" he said, in tones of deep solicitude, "if we but knew how to
+reach and influence him!"
+
+"We can do nothing if we stand afar off, Mr. Elliott," replied Mrs.
+Birtwell. "We must try to get near him. He must see our outstretched
+hands and hear our voices calling to him to come back. Oh, sir, my
+heart tells me that all is not lost. God's loving care is as much
+over him as it is over you and me, and his providence as active for
+his salvation."
+
+"How are we to get near him, Mrs. Birtwell? This is our great
+impediment."
+
+"God will show us the way if we desire it. Nay, he is showing us the
+way, though we sought it not," replied Mrs. Birtwell, her manner
+becoming more confident.
+
+"How? I cannot see it," answered the clergyman.
+
+"There has come a crisis in his life," said Mrs. Birtwell. "In his
+downward course he has reached a point where, unless he can be held
+back and rescued, he will, I fear, drift far out from the reach of
+human hands. And it has so happened that I am brought to a knowledge
+of this crisis and the great peril it involves. Is not this God's
+providence? I verily believe so, Mr. Elliott. In the very depths of
+my soul I seem to hear a cry urging me to the rescue. And, God
+giving me strength, I mean to heed the admonition. This is why I
+have called today. I want your help, and counsel."
+
+"It shall be given," was the clergyman's answer, made in no
+half-hearted way. "And now tell me all you know about this sad case.
+What is the nature of the crisis that has come in the life of this
+unhappy man?"
+
+"I called on Mrs. Sandford this morning," replied Mrs. Birtwell,
+"and learned that his daughter, who is little more than a child, had
+applied for the situation of day-governess to her children. From
+Ethel she ascertained their condition, which is deplorable enough.
+They have been selling or pawning furniture and clothing in order to
+get food until but little remains, and the daughter, brought face to
+face with want, now steps forward to take the position of
+bread-winner."
+
+"Has Mrs. Sandford engaged her?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Ethel is scarcely more than a child. Deeply as Mrs. Sandford feels
+for her, she cannot give her a place of so much responsibility. And
+besides, she does not think it right to let her remain where she is.
+The influence upon her life and character cannot be good, to say
+nothing of the tax and burden far beyond her strength that she will
+have to bear."
+
+"Does she propose anything?"
+
+"Yes. To save the children and let the father go to destruction."
+
+"She would take them away from him?"
+
+"Yes, thus cutting the last strand of the cord that held him away
+from utter ruin."
+
+A groan that could not be repressed broke from Mr. Elliott's lips.
+
+"This must not be--at least not now," added Mrs. Birtwell, in a firm
+voice. "It may be possible to save him through his home and
+children. But if separated from them and cast wholly adrift, what
+hope is left?"
+
+"None, I fear," replied Mr. Elliott.
+
+"Then on this last hope will I build my faith and work for his
+rescue," said Mrs. Birtwell, with a solemn determination; "and may I
+count on your help?"
+
+"To the uttermost in my power." There was nothing half-hearted in
+Mr. Elliott's reply. He meant to do all that his answer involved.
+
+"Ah!" remarked Mrs. Birtwell as they talked still farther about the
+unhappy case, "how much easier is prevention than cure! How much
+easier to keep a stumbling-block out of another's way than to set
+him on his feet after he has fallen! Oh, this curse of drink!"
+
+"A fearful one indeed," said Mr. Elliott, "and one that is
+desolating thousands of homes all over the land."
+
+"And yet," replied Mrs. Birtwell, with a bitterness of tone she
+could not repress, "you and I and some of our best citizens and
+church people, instead of trying to free the land from this dreadful
+curse, strike hands with those who are engaged in spreading
+broadcast through society its baleful infection."
+
+Mr. Elliott dropped his eyes to the floor like one who felt the
+truth of a stinging accusation, and remained silent. His mind was in
+great confusion. Never before had his own responsibility for this
+great evil looked him in the face with such a stern aspect and with
+such rebuking eyes.
+
+"By example and invitation--nay, by almost irresistible
+enticements," continued Mrs. Birtwell--"we tempt the weak and lure
+the unwary and break down the lines of moderation that prudence sets
+up to limit appetite. I need not describe to you some of our social
+saturnalias. I use strong language, for I cannot help it. We are all
+too apt to look on their pleasant side, on the gayety, good cheer
+and bright reunions by which they are attended, and to excuse the
+excesses that too often manifest themselves. We do not see as we
+should beyond the present, and ask ourselves what in natural result
+is going to be the outcome of all this. We actually shut our eyes
+and turn ourselves away from the warning signs and stern admonitions
+that are uplifted before us.
+
+"Is it any matter of surprise, Mr. Elliott, that we should be
+confronted now and then with some of the dreadful consequences that
+flow inevitably from the causes to which I refer? or that as
+individual participants in these things we should find ourselves
+involved in such direct personal responsibility as to make us
+actually shudder?"
+
+Mrs. Birtwell did not know how keen an edge these sentences had for
+Mr. Elliott, nor how, deeply they cut. As for the clergyman, he kept
+his own counsel.
+
+"What can we do in this sad case?" he asked, after a few assenting
+remarks on the dangers of social drinking. "This is the great
+question now. I confess to being entirely at a loss. I never felt so
+helpless in the presence of any duty before."
+
+"I suppose," replied Mrs. Birtwell, "that the way to a knowledge of
+our whole duty in any came is to begin to do the first thing that we
+see to be right."
+
+"Granted; and what then? Do you see the first right thing to be
+done?"
+
+"I believe so."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"If, as seems plain, the separation of Mr. Ridley from his home and
+children is to cut the last strand of the cord that holds him away
+from destruction, then our first work, if we would save him, is to
+help his daughter to maintain that home."
+
+"Then you would sacrifice the child for the sake of the father?"
+
+"No; I would help the child to save her father. I would help her to
+keep their little home as pleasant and attractive as possible, and
+see that in doing so she did not work beyond her strength. This
+first."
+
+"And what next?" asked Mr. Elliott.
+
+"After I have done so much, I will trust God to show me what next.
+The path of duty is plain so far. If I enter it in faith and trust
+and walk whither it leads, I am sure that other ways, leading higher
+and to regions of safety, will open for my willing feet."
+
+"God grant that it may be so," exclaimed Mr. Elliott, with a fervor
+that showed how deeply he was interested. "I believe you are right.
+The slender mooring that holds this wretched man to the shore must
+not be cut or broken. Sever that, and he is swept, I fear, to
+hopeless ruin. You will see his daughter?"
+
+"Yes. It is all plain now. I will go to her at once. I will be her
+fast friend. I will let my heart go out to her as if she were my own
+child. I will help her to keep the home her tender and loving heart
+is trying to maintain."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell now spoke with an eager enthusiasm that sent the warm
+color to her cheeks and made her eyes, so heavy and sorrowful a
+little while before, bright and full of hope.
+
+On rising to go, Mr. Elliott urged her to do all in her power to
+save the wretched man who had fallen over the stumbling-block their
+hands had laid in his way, promising on his part all possible
+co-operation.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+
+
+
+AS Mrs. Birtwell left the house of Mr. Elliott a slender girl,
+thinly clad, passed from the beautiful residence of Mrs. Sandford.
+She had gone in only a little while before with hope in her pale
+young face; now it had almost a frightened look. Her eyes were wet,
+and her lips had the curve of one who grieves helplessly and in
+silence. Her steps, as she moved down the street, were slow and
+unsteady, like the steps of one who bore a heavy burden or of one
+weakened by long illness. In her ears was ringing a sentence that
+had struck upon them like the doom of hope. It was this--and it had
+fallen from the lips of Mrs. Sandford, spoken with a cold severity
+that was more assumed than real--
+
+"If you will do as I suggest, I will see that you have a good home;
+but if you will not, I can do nothing for you."
+
+There was no reply on the part of the young girl, and no sign of
+doubt or hesitation. All the light--it had been fading slowly as the
+brief conference between her and Mrs. Sandford had progressed--died
+out of her face. She shrunk a little in her chair, her head dropping
+forward. For the space of half a minute she sat with eyes cast down.
+Both were silent, Mrs. Sandford waiting to see the effect of what
+she had said, and hoping it would work a change in the girl's
+purpose. But she was disappointed. After sitting in a stunned kind
+of way for a short time, she rose, and without trusting herself to
+speak bowed slightly and left the room. Mrs. Sandford did not call
+after the girl, but suffered her to go down stairs and leave the
+house without an effort to detain her.
+
+"She must gang her ain gait," said the lady, fretfully and with a
+measure of hardness in her voice.
+
+On reaching the street, Ethel Ridley--the reader has guessed her
+name--walked away with slow, unsteady steps. She felt helpless and
+friendless. Mrs. Sandford had offered to find her a home if she
+would abandon her father and little brother. The latter, as Mrs.
+Sandford urged, could be sent to his mother's relatives, where he
+would be much better off than now.
+
+Not for a single instant did Ethel debate the proposition. Heart and
+soul turned from it. She might die in her effort to keep a home for
+her wretched father, but not till then had she any thought of giving
+up.
+
+On leaving the house of Mr. Elliott, Mrs. Birtwell went home, and
+after remaining there for a short time ordered her carriage and
+drove to a part of the town lying at considerable distance from that
+in which she lived. Before starting she had given her driver the
+name of the street and number of the house at which she was going to
+make a call. The neighborhood was thickly settled, and the houses
+small and poor. The one before which the carriage drew up did not
+look quite so forlorn as its neighbors; and on glancing up at the
+second-story windows, Mrs. Birtwell saw two or three flower-pots, in
+one of which a bright rose was blooming.
+
+"This is the place you gave me, ma'am," said the driver as he held
+open the door. "Are you sure it is right?"
+
+"I presume so;" and Mrs. Birtwell stepped out, and crossing the
+pavement to the door, rang the bell. It was opened by a
+pleasant-looking old woman, who, on being asked if a Miss Ridley
+lived there, replied in the affirmative.
+
+"You will find her in the front room up stairs, ma'am," she added.
+"Will you walk up?"
+
+The hall into which Mrs. Birtwell passed was narrow and had a rag
+carpet on the floor. But the carpet was clean and the atmosphere
+pure. Ascending the stairs, Mrs. Birtwell knocked at the door, and
+was answered by a faint "Come in" from a woman's voice.
+
+The room in which she found herself a moment afterward was almost
+destitute of furniture. There was no carpet nor bureau nor
+wash-stand, only a bare floor, a very plain bedstead and bed, a
+square pine table and three chairs. There was not the smallest
+ornament of any kind on the mantel-shelf but in the windows were
+three pots of flowers. Everything looked clean. Some work lay upon
+the table, near which Ethel Ridley was sitting. But she had, turned
+away from the table, and sat with one pale cheek resting on her open
+hand. Her face wore a dreary, almost hopeless expression. On seeing
+Mrs. Birtwell, she started up, the blood leaping in a crimson tide
+to her neck, cheeks and temples, and stood in mute expectation.
+
+"Miss Ridley?" said her visitor, in a kind voice.
+
+Ethel only bowed. She could not speak in her sudden surprise. But
+recovering herself in a few moments she offered Mrs. Birtwell a
+chair.
+
+"Mrs. Sandford spoke to me about you."
+
+As Mrs. Birtwell said this she saw the flush die out of Ethel's face
+and an expression of pain come over it. Guessing at what this meant,
+she added, quickly:
+
+"Mrs. Sandford and I do not think alike. You must keep your home, my
+child."
+
+Ethel gave a start and caught her breath. A look of glad surprise
+broke into her face.
+
+"Oh, ma'am," she answered, not able to steady her voice or keep the
+tears out of her eyes, "if I can only do that! I am willing to work
+if I can find anything to do. But--but--" She broke down, hiding her
+face in her hands and sobbing.
+
+Mrs. Birtwell was deeply touched. How could she help being so in
+presence of the desolation and sorrow for which she felt herself and
+husband to be largely responsible?
+
+"It shall all be made plain and easy for you, my dear child," she
+answered, taking Ethel's hand and kissing her with almost a mother's
+tenderness. "It is to tell you this that I have come. You are too
+young and weak to bear these burdens yourself. But stronger hands
+shall help you."
+
+It was a long time before Ethel could recover herself from the
+surprise and joy awakened by so unexpected a declaration. When she
+comprehended the whole truth, when the full assurance came, the
+change wrought in her appearance was almost marvelous, and Mrs.
+Birtwell saw before her a maiden of singular beauty with a grace and
+sweetness of manner rarely found.
+
+The task she had now to perform Mrs. Birtwell found a delicate one.
+She soon saw that Ethel had a sensitive feeling of independence, and
+that in aiding her she would have to devise some means of self-help
+that would appear to be more largely remunerative than it really
+was. From a simple gratuity the girl shrank, and it was with some
+difficulty that she was able to induce her to take a small sum of
+money as an advance on some almost pretended service, the nature of
+which she would explain to her on the next day, when Ethel was to
+call at her house.
+
+So Mrs. Birtwell took her first step in the new path of duty wherein
+she had set her feet. For the next she would wait and pray for
+guidance. She had not ventured to say much to Ethel at the first
+interview about her father. The few questions asked had caused such
+evident distress of mind that she deemed it best to wait until she
+saw Ethel again before talking to her more freely on a subject that
+could not but awaken the keenest suffering.
+
+Mrs. Birtwell's experience was a common one. She had scarcely taken
+her first step in the path of duty before the next was made plain.
+In her case this was so marked as to fill her with surprise. She had
+undertaken to save a human soul wellnigh lost, and was entering upon
+her work with that singleness of purpose which gives success where
+success is possible. Such being the case, she was an instrument
+through which a divine love of saving could operate. She became, as
+it were, the human hand by which God could reach down and grasp a
+sinking soul ere the dark waters of sin and sorrow closed over it
+for ever.
+
+She was sitting alone that evening, her heart full of the work to
+which she had set her hand and her mind beating about among many
+suggestions, none of which had any reasonable promise of success,
+when a call from Mr. Elliott was announced. This was unusual. What
+could it mean? Naturally she associated it with Mr. Ridley. She
+hurried down to meet him, her heart beating rapidly. As she entered
+the parlor Mr. Elliott, who was standing in the centre of the room,
+advanced quickly toward her and grasped her hand with a strong
+pressure. His manner was excited and there was a glow of unusual
+interest on his face:
+
+"I have just heard something that I wish to talk with you about.
+There is hope for our poor friend."
+
+"For Mr. Ridley?" asked Mrs. Birtwell, catching the excitement of
+her visitor.
+
+"Yes, and God grant that it may not be a vain hope!" he added, with
+a prayer in his heart as well as upon his lips.
+
+They sat down and the clergyman went on:
+
+"I have had little or no faith in any of the efforts which have been
+made to reform drunkenness, for none of them, in my view, went down
+to the core of the matter. I know enough of human nature and its
+depravity, of the power of sensual allurement and corporeal
+appetite, to be very sure that pledges, and the work usually done
+for inebriates in the asylums established for their benefit, cannot,
+except in a few cases, be of any permanent good. No man who has once
+been enslaved by any inordinate appetite can, in my view, ever get
+beyond the danger of re-enslavement unless through a change wrought
+in him by God, and this can only take place after a prayerful
+submission of himself to God and obedience to his divine laws so far
+as lies in his power. In other words, Mrs. Birtwell, the Church must
+come to his aid. It is for this reason that I have never had much
+faith in temperance societies as agents of personal reformation. To
+lift up from any evil is the work of the Church, and in her lies the
+only true power of salvation."
+
+"But," said Mrs. Birtwell, "is not all work which has for its end
+the saving of man from evil God's work? It is surely not the work of
+an enemy."
+
+"God forbid that I should say so. Every saving effort, no matter how
+or when made, is work for God and humanity. Do not misunderstand me.
+I say nothing against temperance societies. They have done and are
+still doing much good, and I honor the men who organize and work
+through them. Their beneficent power is seen in a changed and
+changing public sentiment, in efforts to reach the sources of a
+great and destructive evil, and especially in their conservative and
+restraining influence. But when a man is overcome of the terrible
+vice against which they stand in battle array, when he is struck
+down by the enemy and taken prisoner, a stronger hand than theirs is
+needed to rescue him, even the hand of God; and this is why I hold
+that, except in the Church, there is little or no hope for the
+drunkard."
+
+"But we cannot bring these poor fallen creatures into the Church,"
+answered Mrs. Birtwell. "They shun its doors. They stand afar off."
+
+"The Church must go to them," said Mr. Elliott--"go as Christ, the
+great Head of the Church, himself went to the lowest and the vilest,
+and lift them up, and not only lift them up, but encompass them
+round with its saving influences."
+
+"How is this to be done?" asked Mrs. Birtwell.
+
+"That has been our great and difficult problem; but, thank God! it
+is, I verily believe, now being solved."
+
+"How? Where?" eagerly asked Mrs. Birtwell. "What Church has
+undertaken the work?"
+
+"A Church not organized for worship and spiritual culture, but with
+a single purpose to go into the wilderness and desert places in
+search of lost sheep, and bring them, if possible, back to the fold
+of God. I heard of it only to-day, though for more than a year it
+has been at work in our midst. Men and women of nearly every
+denomination have joined in the organization of this church, and are
+working together in love and unity. Methodists, Episcopalians,
+Baptists, Presbyterians, Swedenborgians, Congregationalists,
+Universalists and Unitarians, so called, here clasp hands in a
+common Christian brotherhood, and give themselves to the work of
+saving the lost and lifting up the fallen."
+
+"Why do you call it a Church?" asked Mrs. Birtwell.
+
+"Because it was founded in prayer to God, and with the
+acknowledgment that all saving power must come from him. Men of deep
+religious experience whose hearts yearned over the hapless condition
+of poor drunkards met together and prayed for light and guidance.
+They were willing to devote themselves to the task of saving these
+unhappy men if God would show them the way. And I verily believe
+that he has shown them the way. They have established a _Christian
+Home_, not a mere inebriate asylum."
+
+As he spoke Mr. Elliott drew a paper from his pocket.
+
+"Let me read you," he said, "a few sentences from an article giving
+an account of the work of this Church, as I have called it. I only
+met with it to-day, and I am not sure that it would have taken such
+a hold upon me had it not been for my concern about Mr. Ridley.
+
+"The writer says, 'In the treatment of drunkenness, we must go
+deeper than hospital or asylum work. This reaches no farther than
+the physical condition and moral nature, and can therefore be only
+temporary in its influence. We must awaken the spiritual
+consciousness, and lead a man too weak to stand in his own strength
+when appetite, held only in abeyance, springs back upon him to trust
+in God as his only hope of permanent reformation. First we must help
+him physically, we must take him out of his debasement, his foulness
+and his discomfort, and surround him with the influences of a home.
+Must get him clothed and in his right mind, and make him feel once
+more that he has sympathy--is regarded as a man full of the noblest
+possibilities--and so be stimulated to personal effort. But this is
+only preliminary work, such as any hospital may do. The real work of
+salvation goes far beyond this; it must be wrought in a higher
+degree of the soul--even that which we call spiritual. The man must
+be taught that only in Heaven-given strength is there any safety. He
+must be led, in his weakness and sense of degradation, to God as the
+only one who can lift him up and set his feet in a safe place. Not
+taught this as from pulpit and platform, but by earnest,
+self-denying, sympathizing Christian men and women standing face to
+face with the poor repentant brother, and holding him tightly by the
+hand lest he stumble and fall in his first weak efforts to walk in a
+better way. And this is just the work that is now being done in our
+city by a Heaven-inspired institution not a year old, but with
+accomplished results that are a matter of wonder to all who are
+familiar with its operations."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell leaned toward Mr. Elliott as he read, the light of a
+new hope irradiating her countenance.
+
+"Is not this a Church in the highest and best sense?" asked Mr.
+Elliott, with a glow of enthusiasm in his voice.
+
+"It is; and if the membership is not full, I am going to join it,"
+replied Mrs. Birtwell, "and do what I can to bring at least one
+straying sheep out of the wilderness and into its fold."
+
+"And I pray God that your work be not in vain," said the clergyman.
+"It is that I might lead you to this work that I am now here. Some
+of the Christian men and women whose names I find here"--Mr. Elliott
+referred to the paper in his hand--"are well known to me personally,
+and others by reputation."
+
+He read them over.
+
+"Such names," he added, "give confidence and assurance. In the hands
+of these men and women, the best that can be done will be done. And
+what is to hinder if the presence and the power of God be in their
+work? Whenever two or three meet together in his name, have they not
+his promise to be with them? and when he is, present, are not all
+saving influences most active? Present we know him to be everywhere,
+but his presence and power have a different effect according to the
+kind and degree of reception. He is present with the evil as well as
+the good, but he can manifest his love and work of saving far more
+effectually through the good than he can through the evil.
+
+"And so, because this Home has been made a Christian Home, and its
+inmates taught to believe that only in coming to God in Christ as
+their infinite divine Saviour, and touching the hem of his garments,
+is there any hope of being cured of their infirmity, has its great
+saving power become manifest."
+
+Just then voices were heard sounding through the hall. Apparently
+there was an altercation between the waiter and some one at the
+street door.
+
+"What's that?" asked Mrs Birtwell, a little startled at the unusual
+sound.
+
+They listened, and heard the voice of a man saying, in an excited
+tone:
+
+"I must see her!"
+
+Then came the noise of a struggle, as though the waiter were trying
+to prevent the forcible entry of some one.
+
+Mrs. Birtwell started to her feet in evident alarm. Mr. Elliott was
+crossing to the parlor door, when it was thrown open with
+considerable violence, and he stood face to face with Mr. Ridley.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+
+
+
+ON leaving the clergyman's residence, baffled in his efforts to get
+the wine he had hoped to obtain, Mr. Ridley strode hurriedly away,
+almost running, as though in fear of pursuit. After going for a
+block or two he stopped suddenly, and stood with an irresolute air
+for several moments. Then he started forward again, moving with the
+same rapid speed. His face was strongly agitated and nearly
+colorless. His eyes were restless, glancing perpetually from side to
+side.
+
+There was no pause now until he reached the doors of a large hotel
+in the centre of the city. Entering, he passed first into the
+reading-room and looked through it carefully, then stood in the
+office for several minutes, as if waiting for some one. While here a
+gentleman who had once been a client came in, and was going to the
+clerk's desk to make some inquiry, when Ridley stepped forward, and
+calling him by name, reached out his hand. It was not taken,
+however. The man looked at him with an expression of annoyance and
+disgust, and then passed him without a word.
+
+A slight tinge of color came into Ridley's pale face. He bit his
+lips and clenched his hands nervously.
+
+From the office he went to the bar-room. At the door he met a
+well-known lawyer with whom he had crossed swords many times in
+forensic battles oftener gaining victory than suffering defeat.
+There was a look of pity in the eyes of this man when they rested
+upon him. He suffered his hand to be taken by the poor wretch, and
+even spoke to him kindly.
+
+"B----," said Ridley as he held up one of his hands and showed its
+nerveless condition, "you see where I am going?"
+
+"I do, my poor fellow!" replied the man; "and if you don't stop
+short, you will be at the end of your journey sooner than you
+anticipate."
+
+"I can't stop; it's too late. For God's sake get me a glass of
+brandy! I haven't tasted a drop since morning."
+
+His old friend and associate saw how it was--saw that his
+over-stimulated nervous system was fast giving way, and that he was
+on the verge of mania. Without replying the lawyer went back to the
+bar, at which he had just been drinking. Calling for brandy, he
+poured a tumbler nearly half full, and after adding a little water
+gave it to Ridley, who drank the whole of it before withdrawing the
+glass from his lips.
+
+"It was very kind of you," said the wretched man as he began to feel
+along his shaking nerves the stimulating power of the draught he had
+taken. "I was in a desperate bad way."
+
+"And you are not out of that way yet," replied the other. "Why don't
+you stop this thing while a shadow of hope remains?"
+
+"It's easy enough to say stop"--Ridley spoke in a tone of
+fretfulness--"and of about as much use as to cry 'Stop!' to a man
+falling down a precipice or sweeping over a cataract. I can't stop."
+
+His old friend gazed at him pityingly, then, shrugging his
+shoulders, he bade him good-morning. From the bar Ridley drifted to
+the reading-room, where he made a feint of looking over the
+newspapers. What cared he for news? All his interest in the world
+had become narrowed down to the ways and means of getting daily
+enough liquor to stupefy his senses and deaden his nerves. He only
+wanted to rest now, and let the glass of brandy he had taken do its
+work on his exhausted system. It was not long before he was asleep.
+How long he remained in this state he did not know. A waiter, rudely
+shaking him, brought him back to life's dreary consciousness again
+and an order to leave the reading room sent him out upon the street
+to go he knew not whither.
+
+Night had come, and Ethel, with a better meal ready for her father
+than she had been able to prepare for him in many weeks, sat
+anxiously awaiting his return. Toward her he had always been kind
+and gentle. No matter how much he might be under the influence of
+liquor, he had never spoken a harsh word to this patient, loving,
+much-enduring child. For her sake he had often made feeble efforts
+at reform, but appetite had gained such mastery; over him that
+resolution was as flax in the flame.
+
+It was late in the evening when Mr. Ridley returned home. Ethel's
+quick ears detected something unusual in his steps as he came along
+the entry. Instead of the stumbling or shuffling noise with which he
+generally made his way up stairs, she noticed that his footfalls
+were more distinct and rapid. With partially suspended breath she
+sat with her eyes upon the door until it was pushed open. The moment
+she looked into her father's face she saw a change. Something had
+happened to him. The heavy, besotted look was gone, the dull eyes
+were lighted up. He shut the door behind him quickly and with the
+manner of one who had been pursued and now felt himself in a place
+of safety.
+
+"What's the matter, father dear?" asked Ethel as she started up and
+laying her hand upon his shoulder looked into his face searchingly.
+
+"Nothing, nothing," he replied. But the nervousness of his manner
+and the restless glancing of his eyes, now here and now there, and
+the look of fear in them, contradicted his denial.
+
+"What has happened, father? Are you sick?" inquired Ethel.
+
+"No, dear, nothing has happened. But I feel a little strange."
+
+He spoke with unusual tenderness in his manner, and his voice shook
+and had a mournful cadence.
+
+"Supper is all ready and waiting. I've got something nice and hot
+for you. A strong cup of tea will do you good," said Ethel, trying
+to speak cheerily. She had her father at the table in a few minutes.
+His hand trembled so in lifting his cup that he spilled some of the
+contents, but she steadied it for him. He had better control of
+himself after drinking the tea, and ate a few mouthfuls, but without
+apparent relish.
+
+"I've got something to tell you," said Ethel, leaning toward her
+father as they still sat at the table. Mr. Ridley saw a new light in
+his daughter's face.
+
+"What is it, dear?" he said.
+
+"Mrs. Birtwell was here to-day, and is going--"
+
+The instant change observed in her father's manner arrested the
+sentence on Ethel's lips. A dark shadow swept across his face and he
+became visibly agitated.
+
+"Going to do what?" he inquired, betraying some anger.
+
+"Going to help me all she can. She was very kind, and wants me to go
+and see her to-morrow. I think she's very good, father."
+
+Mr. Ridley dropped his eyes from the flushed, excited face of his
+child. The frown left his brow. He seemed to lose himself in
+thought. Leaning forward upon the table, he laid his face down upon
+his folded arms, hiding it from view.
+
+A sad and painful conflict, precipitated by the remark of his
+daughter, was going on in the mind of this wretched man. He knew
+also too well that he was standing on the verge of a dreadful
+condition from the terrors of which his soul shrunk back in
+shuddering fear. All day he had felt the coming signs, and the hope
+of escape had now left him. But love for his daughter was rising
+above all personal fear and dread. He knew that at any moment the
+fiend of delirium might spring upon him, and then this tender child
+would be left alone with him in his awful conflict. The bare
+possibility of such a thing made him shudder, and all his thought
+was now directed toward the means of saving her from being a witness
+of the appalling scene.
+
+The shock and anger produced by the mention of Mrs. Birtwell's name
+had passed off, and his thought was going out toward her in a vague,
+groping way, and in a sort of blind faith that through her help in
+his great extremity might come. It was all folly, he knew. What
+could she do for a poor wretch in his extremity? He tried to turn
+his thought from her, but ever as he turned it away it swung back
+and rested in-this blind faith.
+
+Raising his eyes at last, his mind still in a maze of doubt, he saw
+just before him an the table a small grinning head. It was only by a
+strong effort that he could keep from crying out in fear and
+starting back from the table. A steadier look obliterated the head
+and left a teacup in its place.
+
+No time was now to be lost. At any moment the enemy might be upon
+him. He must go quickly, but where? A brief struggle against an
+almost unconquerable reluctance and dread, and then, rising from the
+table, Mr. Ridley caught up his hat and ran down stairs, Ethel
+calling after him. He did not heed her anxious cries. It was for her
+sake that he was going. She heard the street door shut with a jar,
+and listened to her father's departing feet until the sound died out
+in the distance.
+
+It was over an hour from this time when Mr. Ridley, forcing his way
+past the servant who had tried to keep him back, stood confronting
+Mr. Elliott. A look of disappointment, followed by an angry cloud,
+came into his face. But seeing Mrs. Birtwell, his countenance
+brightened; and stepping past the clergyman, he advanced toward her.
+She did not retreat from him, but held out her hand, and said, with
+an earnestness so genuine that it touched his feeling:
+
+"I am glad to see you, Mr. Ridley."
+
+As he took her extended hand Mrs. Birtwell drew him toward a sofa
+and sat down near him, manifesting the liveliest interest.
+
+"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked.
+
+"No, ma'am," he replied, in a mournful voice--"not for me. I didn't
+come for that. But you'll be good to my poor Ethel, won't you,
+and--and--"
+
+His voice broke into sobs, his weak frame quivered.
+
+"I will, I will!" returned Mrs. Birtwell with prompt assurance.
+
+"Oh, thank you. It's so good of you. My poor girl! I may never see
+you again."
+
+The start and glance of fear he now threw across the room revealed
+to Mr. Elliott the true condition of their visitor, and greatly
+alarmed him. He had never been a witness of the horrors of delirium
+tremens, and only knew of it by the frightful descriptions he had
+sometimes read, but he could not mistake the symptoms of the coming
+attack as now seen in Mr. Ridley, who, on getting from Mrs. Birtwell
+a repeated and stronger promise to care for Ethel, rose from the
+sofa and started for the door.
+
+But neither Mr. Elliott nor Mrs. Birtwell could let him go away in
+this condition. They felt too deeply their responsibility in the
+case, and felt also that One who cares for all, even the lowliest
+and most abandoned, had led him thither in his dire extremity.
+
+Following him quickly, Mr. Elliott laid his hand firmly upon his
+arm.
+
+"Stop a moment, Mr. Ridley," he said, with such manifest interest
+that the wretched man turned and looked at him half in surprise.
+
+"Where are you going?" asked the clergyman.
+
+"Where?" His voice fell to a deep whisper. There was a look of
+terror in his eyes. "Where? God only knows. Maybe to hell."
+
+A strong shiver went through his frame.
+
+"The 'Home,' Mr. Elliott! We must get him into the' Home,'" said Mrs.
+Birtwell, speaking close to the minister's ear.
+
+"What home?" asked Mr. Ridley, turning quickly upon her.
+
+She did not answer him. She feared to say a "Home for inebriates,"
+lest he should break from them in anger.
+
+"What home?" he repeated, in a stronger and more agitated voice; and
+now both Mr. Elliott and Mrs. Birtwell saw a wild eagerness in his
+manner.
+
+"A home," replied Mr. Elliott, "where men like you can go and
+receive help and sympathy. A home where you will find men of large
+and hopeful nature to take you by the hand and hold you up, and
+Christian women with hearts full of mother and sister love to
+comfort, help, encourage and strengthen all your good desires. A
+home in which men in your unhappy condition are made welcome, and in
+which they are cared for wisely and tenderly in their greatest
+extremity."
+
+"Then take me there, for God's sake!" cried out the wretched man,
+extending his hand eagerly as he spoke.
+
+"Order the carriage immediately," said Mrs. Birtwell to the servant
+who stood in the half-open parlor door.
+
+Then she drew Mr. Ridley back to the sofa, from which he had started
+up a little while before, and said, in a voice full of comfort and
+persuasion:
+
+"You shall go there, and I will come and see you every day; and you
+needn't have a thought or care for Ethel. All is going to come out
+right again."
+
+The carriage came in a few minutes. There was no hesitation on the
+part of Mr. Ridley. The excitement of this new hope breaking in so
+suddenly upon the midnight of his despair acted as a temporary
+stimulant and held his nerves steady for a little while longer.
+
+"You are not going?" said Mr. Elliott, seeing that Mrs. Birtwell was
+making ready to accompany them in the carriage.
+
+"Yes," she replied. "I want to see just what this home is and how
+Mr. Ridley is going to be received and cared for."
+
+She then directed their man-servant to get into the carriage with
+them, and they drove away. Mr. Ridley did not stir nor speak, but
+sat with his head bent down until they arrived at their destination.
+He left the carriage and went in passively. As they entered a large
+and pleasant reception-room a gentleman stepped forward, and taking
+Mr. Elliott by the hand, called him by name in a tone of pleased
+surprise.
+
+"Oh, Mr. G----!" exclaimed the clergyman. "I am right glad to find
+you here. I remember seeing your name in the list of directors."
+
+"Yes, I am one of the men engaged in this work," replied Mr. G----.
+Then, as he looked more closely at Mr. Ridley, he recognized him and
+saw at a glance his true condition.
+
+"My dear sir," said he, stepping forward and grasping his hand, "I
+am glad you have come here."
+
+Mr. Ridley looked at, or rather beyond, him in a startled way, and
+then drew back a few steps. Mr. G----saw him shiver and an
+expression of fear cross his face. Turning to a man who sat writing
+at a desk, he called him by name, and with a single glance directed
+his attention to Mr. Ridley. The man was by his side in a moment,
+and as Mr. Elliott did not fail to notice all on the alert. He spoke
+to Mr. Ridley in a kind but firm voice, and drew him a little way
+toward an adjoining room, the door of which stood partly open.
+
+"Do the best you can for this poor man," said Mrs. Birtwell, now
+addressing Mr. G----. "I will pay all that is required. You know
+him, I see."
+
+"Yes, I know him well. A sad case indeed. You may be sure that what
+can be done will be done."
+
+At this moment Mr. Ridley gave a cry and a spring toward the door.
+Glancing at him, Mrs. Birtwell saw that his countenance was
+distorted by terror. Instantly two men came in from the adjoining
+room and quickly restrained him. After two or three fruitless
+efforts to break away, he submitted to their control, and was
+immediately removed to another part of the building.
+
+With white lips and trembling limbs Mrs. Birtwell stood a frightened
+spectator of the scene. It was over in a moment, but it left her
+sick at heart.
+
+"What will they do with him?" she asked, her voice husky and
+choking.
+
+"All that his unhappy case requires," replied Mr. G----. "The man
+you saw go first to his side can pity him, for he has himself more
+than once passed through that awful conflict with the power of hell
+upon which our poor friend has now entered. A year ago he came to
+this Home in a worse condition than Mr. Ridley begging us for God's
+sake to take him in. A few weeks saw him, to use sacred words,
+'clothed and in his right mind,' and since then he has never gone
+back a single step. Glad and grateful for his own rescue, he now
+devotes his life to the work of saving others. In his hands Mr.
+Ridley will receive the gentlest treatment consistent with needed
+restraint. He is better here than he could possibly be anywhere
+else; and when, as I trust in God the case may be, he comes out of
+this dreadful ordeal, he will find himself surrounded by friends and
+in the current of influences all leading him to make a new effort to
+reform his life. Poor man! You did not get him here a moment too
+soon."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+
+
+
+MRS. BIRTWELL slept but little that night and in the brief periods
+of slumber that came to her she was disturbed by unquiet dreams. The
+expression of Mr. Ridley's face as the closing door shut it from her
+sight on the previous evening haunted her like the face of an
+accusing spectre.
+
+Immediately after breakfast she dressed herself to go out, intending
+to visit the Home for reforming inebriates and learn something of
+Mr. Ridley. Just as she came down stairs a servant opened the street
+door, and she saw the slender figure of Ethel.
+
+"My poor child!" she said, with great kindness of manner, taking her
+by the hand and drawing her in. "You are frightened about your
+father."
+
+"Oh yes, ma'am," replied Ethel, with quivering lips. "He didn't come
+home all night, and I'm so scared about him. I don't know what to
+do. Maybe you'll think it wrong in me to trouble you about it, but I
+am in such distress, and don't know where to go.
+
+"No, not wrong, my child, and I'm glad you've come. I ought to have
+sent you word about him."
+
+"My father! Oh, ma'am, do you know where he is?"
+
+"Yes; he came here last night sick, and I took him in my carriage to
+a Home for just such as he is, where he will be kindly taken care of
+until he gets well."
+
+Ethel's large brown eyes were fixed in a kind of thankful wonder on
+the face of Mrs. Birtwell. She could not speak. She did not even try
+to put thought or feeling into words. She only took the hand of Mrs.
+Birtwell, and after touching it with her lips laid her wet cheek
+against it and held it there tightly.
+
+"Can I go and see him?" she asked, lifting her face after some
+moments.
+
+"It will not be best, I think," replied Mrs. Birtwell--"that is, not
+now. He was very sick when we took him there, and may not be well
+enough to be seen this morning."
+
+"Very sick! Oh, ma'am!" The face of Ethel grew white and her lips
+trembled.
+
+"Not dangerously," said Mrs. Birtwell, "but yet quite ill. I am
+going now to see him; and if you will come here in a couple of
+hours, when I shall return home--"
+
+"Oh. ma'am, let me go along with you," broke in Ethel. "I won't ask
+to see him if it isn't thought best, but I'll know how he is without
+waiting so long."
+
+The fear that Mr. Ridley might die in his delirium had troubled Mrs.
+Birtwell all night, and it still oppressed her. She would have much
+preferred to go alone and learn first the good or ill of the case,
+but Ethel begged so hard to be permitted to accompany her that she
+could not persist in objection.
+
+On reaching the Home, Mrs. Birtwell found in the office the man in
+whose care Mr. Ridley had been placed. Remembering what Mr. G----had
+said of this man, a fresh hope for Ethel's father sprang up in her
+soul as she looked into his clear eyes and saw his firm mouth and
+air of conscious poise and strength. She did not see in his manly
+face a single scar from the old battle out of which he had come at
+last victorious. Recognizing her, he called her by name, and not
+waiting for her to ask the question that looked out of her face,
+said:
+
+"It is all right with him."
+
+A cry of joy that she could not repress broke from Ethel. It was
+followed by sobbing and tears.
+
+"Can we see him?" asked Mrs. Birtwell.
+
+"The doctor will not think it best," replied the man. "He has had a
+pretty hard night, but, the worst is over. We must keep him quiet
+to-day."
+
+"In the morning can I see him?" asked Ethel lifting her eyes, half
+blinded by tears, to the man's face.
+
+"Yes; I think I can say yes," was the reply.
+
+"How soon?"
+
+"Come at ten o'clock."
+
+"You'll let me call and ask about him this evening, won't you?"
+
+"Oh yes, and you will get a good report, I am sure."
+
+The care and help and wise consideration received in the Home by Mr.
+Ridley, while passing through the awful stages of his mania, had
+probably saved his life. The fits of frenzy were violent, so
+overwhelming him with phantom terrors that in his wild and desperate
+struggles to escape the fangs of serpents and dragons and the horrid
+crew of imaginary demons that crowded his room and pressed madly
+upon him he would, but for the restraint to which he was subjected,
+have thrown himself headlong from a window or bruised and broken
+himself against the wall.
+
+It was the morning of the second day after Mr. Ridley entered the
+Home. He had so far recovered as to be able to sit up in his room, a
+clean and well ventilated apartment, neatly furnished and with an
+air of home comfort about it. Two or three pictures hung on the
+walls, one of them representing a father sitting with a child upon
+each knee and the happy mother standing beside them. He had looked
+at this picture until his eyes grew dim. Near it was an illuminated
+text: "WITHOUT ME YE CAN DO NOTHING."
+
+There came, as he sat gazing at the sweet home-scene, the beauty and
+tenderness of which had gone down into his heart, troubling its
+waters deeply, a knock at the door. Then the matron, accompanied by
+one of the lady managers of the institution, came in and made kind
+inquiries as to his condition. He soon saw that this lady was a
+refined and cultivated Christian woman, and it was not long before
+he felt himself coming under a new influence and all the old desires
+and purposes long ago cast away warming again into life and
+gathering up their feeble strength.
+
+Gradually the lady led him on to talk to her of himself as he would
+have talked to his mother or his sister. She asked him of his
+family, and got the story of his bereavement, his despair and his
+helplessness. Then she sought to inspire him with new resolutions,
+and to lead him to make a new effort.
+
+"I will be a man again," he exclaimed, at last, rising to this
+declaration under the uplifting and stimulating influences that were
+around him.
+
+Then the lady answered him in a low, earnest, tender voice that
+trembled with the burden of its great concern:
+
+"Not in your own strength. That is impossible."
+
+His lips dropped apart. He looked at her strangely.
+
+"Not in your own strength, but in God's," she said reverently. "You
+have tried your own strength many times, but it has failed as often.
+But his strength never fails."
+
+She lifted her finger and pointed to the text on the wall, "Without
+me ye can do nothing," then added: "But in him we can do all things.
+Trusting in yourself, my friend, you will go forth from here to an
+unequal combat, but trusting in him your victory is assured. You
+shall go among lions and they will have no power to harm you, and
+stand in the very furnace flame of temptation without even the smell
+of fire being left upon your garments."
+
+"Ah, ma'am, you are doubtless right in what you say," Mr. Ridley
+answered, all the enthusiasm dying out of his countenance. "But I am
+not a religious man. I have never trusted in God."
+
+"That is no reason why you should not trust in him now," she
+answered, quickly. "All other hope for you is vain, but in God there
+is safety. Will you not go to him now?"
+
+There came a quick, nervous rap upon the door; then it was flung
+open, and Ethel, with a cry of "Oh, father, my father, my father!"
+sprang across the room and threw herself into Mr. Ridley's arms.
+
+With an answering cry of "Oh, Ethel, my child, my child!" Mr. Ridley
+drew her to his bosom, clasped her slender form to his heart and
+laid his face, over which tears were flowing, down among the thick
+masses of her golden hair.
+
+"Let us pray," fell the sweet, solemn voice of the lady manager on
+the deep stillness that followed. All knelt, Mr. Ridley with his arm
+drawn tightly around his daughter. Then in tender, earnest
+supplication did this Christian woman offer her prayers for help.
+
+"Dear Lord and Saviour," she said, in hushed, pleading tones, "whose
+love goes yearning after the lost and straying ones, open the eyes
+of this man, one of thy sick and suffering children, that he may see
+the tender beauty of thy countenance. Touch his heart, that he may
+feel the sweetness of thy love. Draw him to come unto thee, and to
+trust and confide in thee as his ever-present and unfailing Friend.
+In thee is safety, in thee is peace, and nowhere else."
+
+God could answer this prayer through its influence upon the mind of
+him for whom it was offered. It was the ladder on which his soul
+climbed upward. The thought of God and of his love and mercy with
+which it filled all his consciousness inspired him with hope. He saw
+his own utter helplessness, and felt the peril and disaster that
+were before him when his frail little vessel of human resolution
+again met the fierce storms and angry billows of temptation; and so,
+in despairing abandonment of all human strength, he lifted his
+thoughts to God and cried out for the help and strength he needed.
+
+And then, for he was deeply and solemnly in earnest, there was a new
+birth in his soul--the birth of a new life of spiritual forces in
+which God could be so present with him as to give him power to
+conquer when evil assailed him. It was not a life of his own, but a
+new life from God--not a self-acting life by which he was to be
+taken over the sea of temptation like one in a boat rowed by a
+strong oarsman, but a power he must use for himself, and one that
+would grow by use, gaining more and more strength, until it subdued
+and subordinated every natural desire to the rule of heavenly
+principles, and yet it was a life that, if not cherished and made
+active, would die.
+
+There was a new expression in Mr. Ridley's face when he rose from
+his knees. It was calmer and stronger.
+
+"God being your helper," said the lady manager, impressively,
+"victory is sure, and he will help you and overcome for you if you
+will let him. Do not trust to any mere personal motives or
+considerations. You have tried to stand by these over and over
+again, and every time you have fallen their power to help you has
+become less. Pride, ambition, even love, have failed. But the
+strength that God will give you, if you make his divine laws the
+rule of your life, cannot fail. Go to him in childlike trust. Tell
+him as you would tell a loving father of your sin and sorrow and
+helplessness, and ask of him the strength you need. Read every
+morning a portion of his holy word, and lay the divine precepts up
+in your heart. He is himself the word of life, and is therefore
+present in a more real and saving way to those who reverence and
+obey this word than it is possible for him to be to those who do
+not.
+
+"Herein will lie your strength. Hence will come your deliverance.
+Take hold upon God our Saviour, my friend, and all the powers of
+hell shall not prevail against you. You will be tempted, but in the
+moment you hear the voice of the tempter look to God and ask him for
+strength, and it will surely come. Don't parley, for a single
+moment. Let no feeling of security lead you to test your own poor
+strength in any combat with the old appetite, for that would be an
+encounter full of peril. Trust in God, and all will be safe. But
+remember that there is no real trust in God without a life in
+harmony with his commandments. All-abiding spiritual strength comes
+through obedience only."
+
+Mr. Ridley listened with deep attention, and when the lady ceased
+speaking said:
+
+"Of myself I can do nothing. Long ago I saw that, and gave up the
+struggle in despair. If help comes now, it must come from God. No
+power but his can save me."
+
+"Will you not, then, go to him?"
+
+"How am I to go? What am I to do? What will God require of me?"
+
+He spoke hurriedly and with the manner of one who felt himself in
+imminent danger and looked anxiously for a way of escape.
+
+"To do justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly before him; he
+requires nothing more," was the calmly spoken reply.
+
+A light broke into Mr. Ridley's face.
+
+"You cannot be just and merciful if you touch the accursed thing,
+for that would destroy your power to be so. To touch it, then, will
+be to sin against God and hurt your neighbor. Just here, then, must
+your religious life be in. For you to taste any kind of intoxicating
+drink would be a sin. God cannot help you, unless you shun this evil
+as a sin against him, and he will give you the power to shun it if,
+whenever you feel the desire to drink, you resist that desire and
+pray for strength by which to gain a victory.
+
+"Every time you do this you will receive new spiritual strength, and
+be so much nearer the ark of safety. So resisting day by day, always
+in a humble acknowledgment that every good gift comes from a loving
+Father in heaven, the time is not far distant when your feet will be
+on the neck of the enemy that has ruled over you so long. God, even
+our God, will surely bring you off conqueror."
+
+Mr. Ridley on whose calmer face the light of a new confidence now
+rested, drew his arm closely about Ethel, who was leaning against
+him, and said:
+
+"Take heart, darling. If God is for us, who shall be against us?
+Henceforth I will trust in him."
+
+Ethel put her arms about his neck, weeping silently. The matron and
+lady manager went out and left them alone.
+
+Mrs. Birtwell did not visit the Home on this morning to see how it
+fared with Mr. Ridley as she had intended doing. The shadow of a
+great evil had fallen upon her house. For some time she had seen its
+approaches and felt the gathering gloom. If the reader will go back
+over the incidents and characters of this story, he will recall a
+scene between Mrs. Whitford and her son Ellis, the accepted lover of
+Blanche Birtwell, and will remember with what earnestness the mother
+sought to awaken in the mind of the young man a sense of danger,
+going so far as to uncover a family secret and warn him of a taint
+in his blood. It will also be remembered how the proud,
+self-confident young man rejected, her warnings and entreaties, and
+how wine betrayed him.
+
+The humiliation that followed was deep, but not effective to save
+him. Wine to his inherited appetite was like blood to the
+wolf-nature. To touch it was to quicken into life an irrepressible
+desire for more. But his pride fought against any acknowledgment of
+his weakness, and particularly against so public an acknowledgment
+as abstinence when all around him were taking wine. Every time he
+went to a dinner or evening-party, or to any entertainment where
+wine was to be served, he would go self-admonished to be on guard
+against excess, but rarely was the admonition heeded. A single glass
+so weakened his power of restraint that he could not hold back his
+hand; and if it so happened that from any cause this limit was
+forced upon him, as in making a morning or an evening call, the
+stimulated appetite would surely draw his feet to the bar of some
+fashionable saloon or hotel in order that it might secure a deeper
+satisfaction.
+
+It was not possible, so impelled by appetite and so indulging its
+demands, for Ellis Whitford to keep from drifting out into the fatal
+current on whose troubled waters thousands are yearly borne to
+destruction.
+
+After her humiliation at Mrs. Birtwell's, a smile was never seen
+upon the mother's face. All that she deemed it wise to say to her
+son when he awoke in shame next morning she said in tears that she
+had no power to hold back. He promised with solemn asseverations
+that he would never again so debase himself, and he meant to keep
+his promise. Hope stirred feebly in his mother's heart, but died
+when, in answer to her injunction, "Touch not, taste not, handle
+not, my son. Herein lies your only chance of safety," he replied
+coldly and with irritation:
+
+"I will be a man, and not a slave. I will walk in freedom among my
+associates, not holding up manacled wrists."
+
+Alas! he did not walk in freedom. Appetite had already forged
+invisible chains that held him in a fatal bondage. It was not yet
+too late. With a single strong effort he could have rent these bonds
+asunder, freeing himself for ever. But pride and a false shame held
+him back, from making this effort, and all the while appetite kept
+silently strengthening every link and steadily forging new chains.
+Day by day he grew feebler as to will-power and less clear in
+judgment. His fine ambition, that once promised to lift him into the
+highest ranks of his profession, began to lose its stimulating
+influence.
+
+None but his mother knew how swiftly this sad demoralization was
+progressing, through others were aware of the fact that he indulged
+too freely in wine.
+
+With a charity that in too many instances was self-excusing, not a
+few of his friends and acquaintances made light of his excesses,
+saying:
+
+"Oh, he'll get over it;" or, "Young blood is hot and boils up
+sometimes;" or, "He'll steady himself, never fear."
+
+The engagement between Ellis and Blanche still existed, though Mr.
+and Mrs. Birtwell were beginning to feel very much concerned about
+the future of their daughter, and were seriously considering the
+propriety of taking steps to have the engagement broken off. The
+young man often came to their house so much under the influence of
+drink that there was no mistaking his condition; but if any remark
+was made about it, Blanche not only exhibited annoyance, but excused
+and defended him, not unfrequently denying the fact that was
+apparent to all.
+
+One day--it was several months from the date of that fatal party out
+of which so many disasters came, as if another Pandora's box had
+been opened--the card of Mrs. Whitford was placed in the hands of
+Mrs. Birtwell.
+
+"Say that I will be down in a moment."
+
+But the servant who had brought up the card answered:
+
+"The lady wished me to say that she would like to see you alone in
+your own room, and would come up if it was agreeable."
+
+"Oh. certainly. Tell her to come right up."
+
+Wondering a little at this request, Mrs. Birtwell waited for Mrs.
+Whitford's appearance, rising and advancing toward the door as she
+heard her steps approaching. Mrs. Whitford's veil was down as she
+entered, and she did not draw it aside until she had shut the door
+behind her. Then she pushed it away.
+
+An exclamation of painful surprise fell from the lips of Mrs.
+Birtwell the moment she saw the face of her visitor. It was pale and
+wretched beyond description, but wore the look of one who had
+resolved to perform some painful duty, though it cost her the
+intensest suffering.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+
+
+
+"I HAVE come," said Mrs. Whitford, after she was seated and had
+composed herself, "to perform the saddest duty of my whole life."
+
+She paused, her white lips quivering, then rallied her strength and
+went on:
+
+"Even to dishonor my son."
+
+She caught her breath with a great sob, and remained silent for
+nearly half a minute, sitting so still that she seemed like one
+dead. In that brief time she had chained down her overwrought
+feelings and could speak without a tremor in her voice.
+
+"I have come to say," she now went on, "that this marriage must not
+take place. Its consummation would be a great wrong, and entail upon
+your daughter a life of misery. My son is falling into habits that
+will, I sadly fear, drag him down to hopeless ruin. I have watched
+the formation and growth of this habit with a solicitude that has
+for a long time robbed my life of its sweetness. All the while I see
+him drifting away from me, and I am powerless to hold him back.
+Every day he gets farther off, and every day my heart grows heavier
+with sorrow. Can nothing be done? Alas! nothing, I fear; and I must
+tell you why, Mrs. Birtwell. It is best that you should see the case
+as hopeless, and save your daughter if you can."
+
+She paused again for a few moments, and then continued:
+
+"It is not with my son as with most young men. He has something more
+to guard against than the ordinary temptations of society. There is,
+as you may possibly know, a taint in his blood--the taint of
+hereditary intemperance. I warned him of this and implored him to
+abjure wine and all other drinks that intoxicate, but he was proud
+and sensitive as well as confident in his own strength. He began to
+imagine that everybody knew the family secret I had revealed to him,
+and that if he refused wine in public it would be attributed to his
+fear of arousing a sleeping appetite which when fully awake and
+active might prove too strong for him, and so he often drank in a
+kind of bravado spirit. He would be a man and let every one see that
+he could hold the mastery over himself. It was a dangerous
+experiment for him, as I knew it would be, and has failed."
+
+Mrs. Whitford broke down and sobbed in an uncontrollable passion of
+grief. Then, rising, she said:
+
+"I have done a simple duty, Mrs. Birtwell. How hard the task has
+been you can never know, for through a trial like mine you will
+never have to pass. It now remains for you to do the best to save
+your child from the great peril that lies before her. I wish that I
+could say, 'Tell Blanche of our interview and of my solemn warning.'
+But I cannot, I dare not do so, for it would be to cast up a wall
+between me and my son and to throw him beyond the circle of my
+influence. It would turn his heart against his mother, and that is a
+calamity from the very thought of which I shrink with a sickening
+fear."
+
+The two women, sad partners in a grief that time might intensify,
+instead of making less, stood each leaning her face down upon the
+other's shoulder and wept silently, then raised their eyes and
+looked wistfully at each other.
+
+"The path of duty is very rough sometimes; but if we must walk it to
+save another, we cannot stay our feet and be guiltless before God,"
+said Mrs. Whitford. "It has taken many days since I saw this path of
+suffering and humiliation open its dreary course for me to gather up
+the strength required to walk in it with steady feet. Every day for
+more than a week I have started out resolved to see you, but every
+day my heart has failed. Twice I stood at your door with my hand on
+the bell, then turned, and went away. But the task is over, the duty
+done, and I pray that it may not be in vain."
+
+What was now to be done? When Mr. Birtwell was informed of this
+interview, he became greatly excited, declaring that he should
+forbid any further intercourse between the young people. The
+engagement, he insisted, should be broken off at once. But Mrs.
+Birtwell was wiser than her husband, and knew better than he did the
+heart of their daughter.
+
+Blanche had taken more from her mother than from her father, and the
+current of her life ran far deeper than that of most of the
+frivolous girls around her. Love with her could not be a mere
+sentiment, but a deep and all-pervading passion. Such a passion she
+felt for Ellis Whitford, and she was ready to link her destinies
+with his, whether the promise were for good or for evil. To forbid
+Ellis the house and lay upon her any interdictions, in regard to him
+would, the mother knew, precipitate the catastrophe they were
+anxious to avert.
+
+It was not possible for either Mr. or Mrs. Birtwell to conceal from
+their daughter the state of feeling into which the visit of Mrs.
+Whitford had thrown them, nor long to remain passive. The work of
+separation must be commenced without delay. Blanche saw the change
+in her parents, and felt an instinct of danger; and when the first
+intimations of a decided purpose to make a breach between her and
+Ellis came, she set her face like flint against them, not in any
+passionate outbreak, but with a calm assertion of her undying love
+and her readiness to accept the destiny that lay before her. To the
+declaration of her mother that Ellis was doomed by inheritance to
+the life of a drunkard, she replied:
+
+"Then he will only the more need my love and care."
+
+Persuasion, appeal, remonstrance, were useless. Then Mr. Birtwell
+interposed with authority. Ellis was denied the house and Blanche
+forbidden to see him.
+
+This was the condition of affairs at the time Mrs. Birtwell became
+so deeply interested in Mr. Ridley and his family. Blanche had
+risen, in a measure, above the deep depression of spirits consequent
+on the attitude of her parents toward her betrothed husband, and
+while showing no change in her feelings toward him seemed content to
+wait for what might come. Still, there was something in her manner
+that Mrs. Birtwell did not understand, and that occasioned at times
+a feeling of doubt and uneasiness.
+
+"Where is Blanche?" asked Mr. Birtwell. It was the evening following
+that on which Mr. Ridley bad been taken to the Home for inebriates.
+He was sitting at the tea-table with his wife.
+
+"She is in her room," replied Mrs. Birtwell.
+
+"Are you sure?" inquired her husband.
+
+Mrs. Birtwell noticed something in his voice that made her say
+quickly:
+
+"Why do you ask?"
+
+"For no particular reason, only she's not down to tea."
+
+Mr. Birtwell's face had grown very serious.
+
+"She'll be along in a few moments," returned Mrs. Birtwell.
+
+But several minutes elapsed, and still she did not make her
+appearance.
+
+"Go up and knock at Miss Blanche's door," said Mrs. Birtwell to the
+waiter. "She may have fallen asleep."
+
+The man left the room.
+
+"I feel a little nervous," said Mr. Birtwell, setting down his cup,
+the moment they were alone. "Has Blanche been out since dinner?"
+
+"No."
+
+"All right, then. It was only a fancy, as I knew it to be at the
+time. But it gave me a start."
+
+"What gave you a start?" asked Mrs. Birtwell.
+
+"A face in a carriage. I saw it for an instant only."
+
+"Whose face?"
+
+"I thought for the moment it was that of Blanche."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell grew very pale, leaned back in her chair and turned
+her head listening for the waiter. Neither of them spoke until he
+returned.
+
+"Miss Blanche is not there."
+
+Both started from the table and left the room, the waiter looking
+after them in surprise. They were not long in suspense. A letter
+from Blanche, addressed to her mother, which was found lying on her
+bureau, told the sad story of her perilous life-venture, and
+overwhelmed her parents with sorrow and dismay. It read:
+
+"MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER: When you receive this, I shall be
+married to Ellis Whitford. There is nothing that I can say to break
+for you the pain of this intelligence. If there was, oh how gladly
+would I say it! My destiny is on me, and I must walk in the way it
+leads. It is not that I love you less that I go away from you, but
+because I feel the voice of duty which is calling to me to be the
+voice of God. Another life and another destiny are bound up in mine,
+and there is no help for me. God bless you and comfort you, and keep
+your hearts from turning against your loving
+
+BLANCHE."
+
+In all their fond looks forward to the day when their beautiful
+child should stand in bridal robes--and what parents with lovely
+daughters springing up toward womanhood do not thus look forward and
+see such visions?--no darkly, brooding fancy had conceived of
+anything like this. The voice that fell upon their ears was not the
+song of a happy bride going joyously to the altar, but the cry of
+their pet lamb bound for the sacrifice.
+
+"Oh, madness, madness!" exclaimed Mr. Birtwell, in anger and dismay.
+
+"My poor unhappy child! God pity her! "sobbed the white-lipped
+mother, tearless under the sudden shock of this great disaster that
+seemed as if it would beat out her life.
+
+There was no help, no remedy. The fatal step had been taken, and
+henceforth the destiny of their child was bound up with that of one
+whose inherited desire for drink had already debased his manhood.
+For loving parents we can scarcely imagine a drearier outlook upon
+life than this.
+
+The anger of Mr. Birtwell soon wasted its strength amid the shallows
+of his weaker character, but the pain and hopeless sorrow grew
+stronger and went deeper down into the heart of Mrs. Birtwell day by
+day. Their action in the case was such as became wise and loving
+parents. What was done was done, and angry scenes, coldness and
+repulsion could now only prove hurtful. As soon as Blanche returned
+from a short bridal-tour the doors of her father's house were thrown
+open for her and her husband to come in. But the sensitive,
+high-spirited young man said, "No." He could not deceive himself in
+regard to the estimation in which he was held by Mr. and Mrs.
+Birtwell, and was not willing to encounter the humiliation of living
+under their roof and coming in daily but restrained contact with
+them. So he took his bride to his mother's house, and Mrs. Birtwell
+had no alternative but to submit, hard as the trial was, to this
+separation from her child.
+
+This was the shadow of the great evil in which Mrs. Birtwell was
+sitting on the day Mr. Ridley found himself amid the new influences
+and new friends that were to give him another start in life and
+another chance to redeem himself. She had passed a night of tears
+and agony, and though suffering deeply had gained a calm exterior.
+Ethel, after leaving the Home, came with a heart full of new hope
+and joy to see Mrs. Birtwell and tell her about her father.
+
+The first impulse of the unhappy mother, sitting in the shadows of
+her own great sorrow, was to send the girl away with a simple
+denial.
+
+"Say that I cannot see her this morning," she said coldly. But
+before the servant could leave the room she repented of this denial.
+
+"Stay!" she called. Then, while the servant paused, she let her
+thoughts go from herself to, Ethel and her father.
+
+"Tell the young lady to wait for a little while," she said. "I will
+ring for you in a few minutes." The servant went out, and Mrs.
+Birtwell turned to her secretary and wrote a few lines, saying that
+she was not feeling well and could not see Miss Ridley then, but
+would be glad to have her call in two or three days. Placing this
+with a bank-bill in an envelope, she rang for the servant, who took
+the letter down stairs and gave it to Ethel.
+
+But Mrs. Birtwell did not feel as though she had done her whole duty
+in the case. A pressure was left upon her feelings. What of the
+father? How was it faring with him? She hesitated about recalling
+the servant until it was too late. Ethel took the letter, and
+without opening it went away.
+
+A new disquiet came from this cause, and Mrs. Birtwell could not
+shake it off. Happily for her relief, Mr. Elliott, whose interest in
+the fallen man was deep enough to take him to the Home that morning,
+called upon her with the most gratifying intelligence. He had seen
+Mr. Ridley and held a long interview with him, the result of which
+was a strong belief that the new influences under which he had been
+brought would be effectual in saving him.
+
+"I have faith in these influences," said the clergyman, "because I
+understand their ground and force. Peter would have gone down
+hopelessly in the Sea of Galilee if he had depended on himself
+alone. Only the divine Saviour, on whom he called and in whom he
+trusted, could save him; and so it is in the case of men like Mr.
+Ridley who try to walk over the sea of temptation. Peter's
+despairing cry of 'Save, Lord, or I perish,' must be theirs also if
+they would keep from sinking beneath the angry waters, and no one
+ever calls sincerely upon God for help without receiving it. That
+Mr. Ridley is sincere I have no doubt, and herein lies my great
+confidence."
+
+At the end of a week Blanche returned from her wedding-tour, and was
+received by her parents with love and tenderness instead of
+reproaches. These last, besides being utterly useless, would have
+pushed the young husband away from them and out of the reach of any
+saving influences it might be in their power to exercise.
+
+The hardest trial now for Mrs. Birtwell was the separation from
+Blanche, whose daily visits were a poor substitute for the old
+constant and close companionship. If there had not been a cloud in
+the sky of her child's future, with its shadow already dimming the
+brightness of her young life, the mother's heart would have still
+felt an aching and a void, would have been a mourner for love's lost
+delights and possessions that could nevermore return. But to all
+this was added a fear and, dread that made her soul grow faint when
+thought cast itself forward into the coming time.
+
+The Rev. Mr. Brantley Elliott was a wiser and truer man than some
+who read him superficially imagined. His churchmanship was sometimes
+narrower than his humanity, while the social element in his
+character, which was very strong, often led him to forget in mixed
+companies that much of what he might say or do would be judged of by
+the clerical and not the personal standard, and his acts and words
+set down at times as favoring worldliness and self-indulgence. Harm
+not unfrequently came of this. But he was a sincere Christian man,
+deeply impressed with the sacredness of his calling and earnest in
+his desire to lead heavenward the people to whom he ministered.
+
+The case of Mr. Ridley had not only startled and distressed him, but
+filled him with a painful concern lest other weak and tempted ones
+might have fallen through his unguarded utterance or been bereaved
+through his freedom. The declaration of Paul came to him with a new
+force: "Wherefore, if meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no
+meat while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend;"
+and he resolved not only to abstain from wine hereafter in mixed
+companies, but to use his influence to discourage a social custom
+fraught, as he was now beginning to see, with the most disastrous
+consequences.
+
+The deep concern felt for Mr. Ridley by Mr. Elliott and Mrs.
+Birtwell drew them oftener together now, and took them frequently to
+the Home for inebriates, in which both took a deep interest. For
+over three weeks Mr. Ridley remained at the institution, its
+religious influences growing deeper and deeper every day. He met
+there several men who had fallen from as high an estate as
+himself--men of cultured intellect, force of character and large
+ability--and a feeling of brotherhood grew up between them. They
+helped and strengthened each other, entering into a league offensive
+and defensive, and pledging themselves to an undying antagonism
+toward every form of intemperance.
+
+When Mr. Ridley returned to his home, he found it replete with many
+comforts not there when love and despair sent him forth to die, for
+aught he knew, amid nameless horrors. An office had been rented for
+him, and Mr. Birtwell had a case of considerable importance to place
+in his hands. It was a memorable occasion in the Court of Common
+Pleas when, with the old clear light in his eyes and bearing of
+conscious power, he stood among his former associates, and in the
+firm, ringing voice which had echoed there so many times before,
+made an argument for his client that held both court and jury almost
+spellbound for an hour.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE seed and the harvest are alike in quality. Between cause and
+effect there is an unchanging and eternal relation. Men never find
+grapes on thorns nor figs on thistles.
+
+As an aggregate man, society has no escape from this law. It must
+reap as it sows. If its customs be safe and good, its members, so
+far as they are influenced by these customs, will be temperate,
+orderly and virtuous; but if its tone be depraved and its customs
+evil or dangerous, moral and physical ruin must; in too many sad
+cases be the inevitable result.
+
+It is needless to press this view, for it is self-evident and no one
+calls it in question. Its truth has daily and sorrowful confirmation
+in the wan faces and dreary eyes and wrecks of a once noble and
+promising manhood one meets at every turn.
+
+The thorn and the thistle harvest that society reaps every year is
+fearfully great, and the seed from which too large a portion of this
+harvest comes is its drinking customs. Men of observation and
+intelligence everywhere give this testimony with one consent. All
+around us, day and night, year by year, in palace and hovel, the
+gathering of this sad and bitter harvest goes on--the harvest of
+broken hearts and ruined lives. And still the hand of the sower is
+not stayed. Refined and lovely women and men of low and brutal
+instincts, church members and scoffers at religion, stately
+gentlemen and vulgar clowns, are all at work sowing the baleful seed
+that ripens, alas! too quickly its fruit of woe. The _home saloon_
+vies with the common licensed saloon in its allurements and
+attractions, and men who would think themselves degraded by contact
+with those who for gain dispense liquor from a bar have a sense of
+increased respectability as they preside over the good wine and pure
+spirits they offer to their guests in palace homes free of cost.
+
+We are not indulging in forms of rhetoric. To do so would only
+weaken the force of our warning. What we have written is no mere
+fancy work. The pictures thrown upon our canvas with all the power
+of vivid portraiture that we possess are but feeble representations
+of the tragic scenes that are enacted in society year by year, and
+for which every member of society who does not put his hand to the
+work of reform is in some degree responsible.
+
+We are not developing a romance, but trying, as just said, to give
+from real life some warning pictures. Our task is nearly done. A few
+more scenes, and then our work will be laid for the present aside.
+
+There are men who never seem to comprehend the lesson of events or
+to feel the pressure of personal responsibility. They drift with the
+tide, doing as their neighbors do, and resting satisfied. The
+heroism of self-sacrifice or self-denial is something to which they
+cannot rise. Nothing is farther from their ambition than the role of
+a reformer. Comfortable, self-indulgent, placid, they move with the
+current and manage to keep away from its eddies. Such a man was Mr.
+Birtwell. He knew of some of the disasters that followed so closely
+upon his grand entertainment, but refused to connect therewith any
+personal responsibility. It was unfortunate, of course, that these
+things should have happened with him, but he was no more to blame
+for them than if they had happened with his neighbor across the way.
+So he regarded the matter. But not so Mrs. Birtwell. As we have
+seen, a painful sense of responsibility lay heavily upon her heart.
+
+The winter that followed was a gay one, and many lag entertainments
+were given. The Birtwells always had a party, and this party was
+generally the event of the season, for Mr. Birtwell liked _eclat_
+and would get it if possible. Time passed, and Mrs. Birtwell, who
+had sent regrets to more than half the entertainments to which they
+received invitations said nothing.
+
+"When are we going to have our party?" asked Mr. Birtwell of his
+wife as they sat alone one evening. He saw her countenance change.
+After a few moments she replied in a low but very firm and decided
+voice:
+
+"Whenever we can have it without wine."
+
+"Then we'll never have it," exclaimed Mr. Birtwell, in considerable
+excitement.
+
+"It will be better so," returned his wife, "than again to lay
+stumbling-blocks at the feet of our neighbors."
+
+There came a sad undertone in her voice that her husband did not
+fail to perceive.
+
+"We don't agree in this thing," said Mr. Birtwell, with some
+irritation of manner.
+
+"Then will it not be best to let the party go over until we can
+agree? No harm can come of that, and harm might come, as it did last
+year, from turning our house into a drinking-saloon."
+
+The sting of these closing words was sharp. It was not the first
+time Mr. Birtwell had heard his wife use them, and they never failed
+to shock his fine sense of respectability.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, Margaret," he broke out, in a passion he could
+not control, "don't say that again! It's an outrage. You'll give
+mortal offence if you use such language."
+
+"It is best to call things by their right names," replied Mrs.
+Birtwell, in no way disturbed by her husband's weak anger. "As names
+signify qualities, we should be very careful how we deceive others
+by the use of wrong ones. To call a lion a lamb might betray a blind
+or careless person into the jaws of a ferocious monster, or to speak
+of the fruit of the deadly nightshade as a cherry might deceive a
+child into eating it."
+
+"You are incorrigible," said Mr. Birtwell, his anger subsiding. It
+never went very deep, for his nature was shallow.
+
+"No, not incorrigible, but right," returned Mrs. Birtwell.
+
+"Then we are not to have a party this winter?"
+
+"I did not say so. On the contrary, I am ready to entertain our
+friends, but the party I give must be one in which no wine or brandy
+is served."
+
+"Preposterous!" ejaculated Mr. Birtwell. "We'd make ourselves the
+laughing-stock of the city."
+
+"Perhaps not," returned his wife.
+
+Mr. Birtwell shook his head and shut his mouth tightly:
+
+"There's no use in talking about it if the thing can't be done
+right, it can't be done at all."
+
+"So say I. Still, I would do it right and show society a better way
+if you were brave enough to stand by my side. But as you are not,
+our party must go by default this winter."
+
+Mrs. Birtwell smiled faintly to soften the rebuke of her words. They
+had reached this point in their conversation when Mr. Elliott, their
+clergyman, called. His interest in the Home for inebriates had
+increased instead of abating, and he now held the place of an active
+member in the board of directors. Mrs. Birtwell had, months before,
+given in her adhesion to the cause of reform, and the board of lady
+managers, who had a close supervision of the internal arrangements
+of the Home, had few more efficient workers.
+
+In the beginning Mr. Birtwell had "pooh-poohed" at his wife's
+infatuation, as he called it, and prophesied an early collapse of
+the whole affair. "The best thing to do with a drunkard," he would
+say, with mocking levity, "is to let him die. The sooner he is out
+of the way, the better for himself and society." But of late he had
+given the matter a more respectful consideration. Still, he would
+have his light word and pleasant banter both with his wife and Mr.
+Elliott, who often dropped in to discuss with Mrs. Birtwell the
+interests of the Home.
+
+"Just in the nick of time," exclaimed Mr. Birtwell, smiling, as he
+took the clergyman's hand.
+
+"My wife and I have had a disagreement--we quarrel dreadfully, you
+know--and you must decide between us."
+
+"Indeed! What's the trouble now?" said Mr. Elliott, looking from one
+to the other.
+
+"Well, you see, we've been discussing the party question, and are at
+daggers' points."
+
+The light which had spread over Mr. Elliott's countenance faded off
+quickly, and Mr. Birtwell saw it assume a very grave aspect. But he
+kept on:
+
+"You never heard anything so preposterous. Mrs. Birtwell actually
+proposes that we give a coldwater-and-lemonade entertainment. Ha!
+ha!"
+
+The smile he had expected to provoke by this sally did not break
+into the clergyman's face.
+
+"But I say," Mr. Birtwell added, "do the thing right, or don't do it
+all."
+
+"What do you call right?" asked Mr. Elliott.
+
+"The way it is done by other people--as we did it last year, for
+instance."
+
+"I should be sorry to see last year's entertainment repeated if like
+consequences must follow," replied Mr. Elliott, becoming still more
+serious.
+
+Mr. Birtwell showed considerable annoyance at: this.
+
+"I have just come from a visit to your friend Mrs. Voss," said the
+clergyman.
+
+"How is she?" Mrs. Birtwell asked, anxiously.
+
+"I do not think she can last much longer," was replied.
+
+Tears came into Mrs. Birtwell's eyes and fell over her cheeks.
+
+"A few days at most--a few hours, maybe--and she will be at rest.
+She spoke of you very tenderly, and I think would like to see you."
+
+"Then I will go to her immediately," said Mrs. Birtwell, rising.
+"You must excuse me, Mr. Elliott. I will take the carriage and go
+alone," she added, glancing toward her husband.
+
+The two men on being left alone remained silent for a while. Mr.
+Birtwell was first to speak.
+
+"I have always felt badly," he said, "about the death of Archie
+Voss. No blame attaches to us of course, but it was unfortunate that
+he had been at our house."
+
+"Yes, very unfortunate," responded the clergyman. Something in his
+voice as well as in his manner awakened an uncomfortable feeling in
+the mind of Mr. Birtwell.
+
+They were silent again, neither of them seeming at his ease.
+
+"I had hoped," said Mr. Elliott, breaking at length this silence,
+"to find you by this time over upon our side."
+
+"The cold-water side, you mean?" There was perceptible annoyance in
+Mr. Birtwell's tone.
+
+"On the side of some reform in our social customs. Why can't you
+join with your excellent wife in taking the initiative? You may
+count on me to endorse the movement and give it my countenance and
+support."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Elliott, but I'm not your man," returned Mr.
+Birtwell. He spoke with decision. "I have no desire to be counted in
+with reformers."
+
+"Think of the good you might do."
+
+"I am not a philanthropist."
+
+"Then think of the evil you might prevent."
+
+"The good or the evil resulting from my action, take which side I
+may, will be very small," said Mr. Birtwell, with an indifference of
+manner that showed his desire to drop the subject. But Mr. Elliott
+was only leading the way for some plainer talk, and did not mean to
+lose his opportunity.
+
+"It is an error," he said, "to make light of our personal influence
+or the consequences that may flow from what we do. The hand of a
+child is not too weak to hold the match that fires a cannon. When
+evil elements are aggregated, the force required to release them is
+often very small. We may purpose no wrong to our neighbor in the
+indulgence of a freedom that leads him into fiery temptation; but if
+we know that our freedom must of necessity do this, can we escape
+responsibility if we do not deny ourselves?"
+
+"It is easy to ask questions and to generalize," returned Mr.
+Birtwell, not hiding the annoyance he felt.
+
+"Shall I come down to particulars and deal in facts?" asked Mr.
+Elliott.
+
+"If you care to do so."
+
+"I have some facts--very sad and sorrowful ones. You may or may not
+know them--at least not all. But you should know them, Mr.
+Birtwell."
+
+There was no escape now.
+
+"You half frighten me, Mr. Elliott. What are you driving at?"
+
+"I need not refer," said the clergyman, "to the cases of Archie Voss
+and Mr. Ridley."
+
+Mr. Birtwell raised his hands in deprecation.
+
+"Happily," continued Mr. Elliott, "Mr. Ridley has risen from his
+fall, and now stands firmer, I trust, than ever, and farther away
+from the reach of temptation, resting not in human but in divine
+strength. Archie is in heaven, where before many days his mother
+will join him."
+
+"Why are you saying this?" demanded Mr. Birtwell. "You are going too
+far." His face had grown a little pale.
+
+"I say it as leading to something more," replied the clergyman. "If
+there had been no more bitter fruit than this, no more lives
+sacrificed, it would have been sad enough. But--"
+
+"Sir, you are trifling," exclaimed Mr. Birtwell, starting from his
+chair. "I cannot admit your right to talk to me in this way."
+
+"Be calm, my dear sir," answered Mr. Elliott, laying his hand upon
+his companion. "I am not trifling with you. As your warm personal
+friend as well as your spiritual counselor, I am here to-night to
+give a solemn admonition, and I can best do this through the
+communication of facts--facts that stand on record for ever
+unchangeable whether you know them or not. Better that you should
+know them."
+
+Mr. Birtwell sat down, passive now, his hand grasping the arms of
+his chair like one bracing himself for a shock.
+
+"You remember General Abercrombie?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know what has become of him?"
+
+"No. I heard something about his having been dismissed from the
+army."
+
+"Did you hear the cause?"
+
+"It was drunkenness, I believe."
+
+"Yes, that was the cause. He was a fine officer and a man of high
+character, but fell into habits of intemperance. Seeing himself
+drifting to certain ruin, he made a vigorous effort to reform his
+life. Experience told him that his only safety lay in complete
+abstinence, and this rule he adopted. For many months he remained
+firm. But he fell at your house. The odor of wine that pervaded all
+the air and stirred within him the long-sleeping appetite, the
+freedom he saw around him, the invitations that met him from
+distinguished men and beautiful women, the pressure of a hundred
+influences upon his quickened desires, bore him down at last, and he
+fell.
+
+"I heard the whole sad story to-day," continued Mr. Elliott. He did
+not even attempt to struggle up again, but abandoned himself to his
+fate. Soon after, he was removed from the command of this department
+and sent off to the Western frontier, and finally court-martialed
+and dismissed from the army.
+
+"To his wife, who was deeply attached to him, General Abercrombie
+was when sober one of the kindest and most devoted of husbands, but
+a crazy and cruel fiend when drunk. It is said that on the night he
+went home from your house last winter strange noises and sudden
+cries of fear were heard in their room, and that Mrs. Abercrombie
+when seen next morning looked as if she had just come from a bed of
+sickness. She accompanied him to the West, but I learned today that
+since his dismissal from the army his treatment of her has been so
+outrageous and cruel that she has had to leave him in fear of her
+life, and is now with her friends, a poor broken-hearted woman. As
+for the general, no one seems to know what has become of him."
+
+"And the responsibility of all this you would lay at my door?" said
+Mr. Birtwell, in a husky voice, through which quivered a tone of
+anger. "But I reject your view of the case entirely. General
+Abercrombie fell because he had no strength of purpose and no
+control of his appetite. He happened to trip at my house--that is
+all. He would have fallen sooner or later somewhere."
+
+"Happened to trip! Yes, that is it, Mr. Birtwell; you use the right
+word. He tripped at your house. But who laid the stone of stumbling
+in his path? Suppose there had been no wine, served to your guests,
+would he have stumbled on that fatal night? If there had been no
+wine served, would Archie Voss have lost his way in the storm or
+perished in the icy waters? No, my friend, no; and if there had been
+no wine served at your board that night, three human lives which
+have, alas! been hidden from us by death's eclipse would be shedding
+light and warmth upon many hearts now sorrowful and desolate. Three
+human lives, and a fourth just going out. There is responsibility,
+and neither you nor I can escape it, Mr. Birtwell, if through
+indifference or design we permit ourselves to become the instruments
+of such dire calamities."
+
+Mr. Birtwell had partly risen from his chair in making the weak
+defence to which this was a reply, but now sunk back with an
+expression that was half bewilderment and half terror on his
+countenance.
+
+"In Heaven's name, Mr. Elliott, what does all this mean?" he cried.
+"Three lives and a fourth going out, and the responsibility laid at
+my door!"
+
+"It is much easier to let loose an evil power than to stay its
+progress," said Mr. Elliott. "The near and more apparent effects we
+may see, rarely the remote and secondary. But we know that the
+action of all forces, good or evil, is like that of expanding
+wave-circles, and reaches far beyond, our sight. It has done so in
+this case. Yes, Mr. Birtwell, three lives, and a fourth now
+flickering like an expiring candle.
+
+"I would spare you all this if I dared, if I could be
+conscience-clear," continued Mr. Elliott. "But I would be faithless
+to my duty if I kept silent. You know the sad case of Mrs. Carlton?"
+
+"You don't mean to lay that, too, at my door!" exclaimed Mr.
+Birtwell.
+
+"Not directly; it was one of the secondary effects. I had a long
+conversation with Dr. Hillhouse to-day. His health has failed
+rapidly for some months past, and he is now much broken down. You
+know that he performed the operation which cost Mrs. Carlton her
+life? Well, the doctor has never got over the shock of that
+catastrophe. It has preyed upon his mind ever since, and is one of
+the causes of his impaired health."
+
+"I should call that a weakness," returned Mr. Birtwell. "He did his
+best. No one is safe from accidents or malign influences. I never
+heard that Mr. Carlton blamed him."
+
+"Ah, these malign influences!" said the clergyman. "They meet us
+everywhere and hurt us at every turn, and yet not one of them could
+reach and affect our lives if some human hand did not set them free
+and send them forth among men to, hurt and to destroy. And now let
+me tell you of the interview I had with Dr. Hillhouse to-day. He has
+given his consent, but with this injunction: we cannot speak of it
+to others."
+
+"I will faithfully respect his wishes," said Mr. Birtwell.
+
+"This morning," resumed Mr. Elliott, "I received a note from the
+doctor, asking me to call and see him. He was much depressed, and
+said he had long wanted to have a talk with me about something that
+weighed heavily on his mind. Let me give you his own words as nearly
+as I am able to remember them. After some remarks about personal
+influence and our social responsibilities, he said:
+
+"'There is one thing, Mr. Elliott, in which you and I and a great
+many others I could name have not only been derelict of duty, but
+serious wrongdoers. There is an evil in society that more than all
+others is eating out its life, and you and I have encouraged that
+evil even by our own example, calling it innocent, and so leading
+the weak astray and the unwary into temptation.'
+
+"I understood what he meant, and the shock of his including
+accusation, his 'Thou art the man,' sent a throb of pain to my
+heart. That I had already seen my false position and changed front
+did not lessen the shock, for I was only the more sensitive to pain.
+
+"'Happily for you, Mr. Elliott,' he went on, 'no such bitter fruit
+has been plucked by your hands as by mine, and I pray God that it
+may never be. For a long time I have carried a heavy load here'--he
+drew his hand against his breast--'heavier than I have strength to
+bear. Its weight is breaking me down. It is no light thing, sir, to
+feel at times that you are a murderer.'
+
+"He shivered, and there passed across his face a look of horror. But
+it was gone in a moment, though an expression of suffering remained.
+
+"'My dear doctor.' I interposed, 'you have permitted yourself to
+fall into a morbid state. This is not well. You are overworked and
+need change and relaxation.'
+
+"'Yes,' he replied, a little mournfully 'I am overworked and morbid
+and all that, I know, and I must have change and relaxation or I
+shall die. Ah, if I could get rid of this heavy weight!' He laid his
+hand upon his breast again, and drew a deep inspiration. 'But that
+is impossible. I must tell you all about it, but place upon you at
+the same time an injunction of silence, except in the case of one
+man, Mr. Spencer Birtwell. He is honorable and he should know, and I
+can trust him.
+
+"'You remember, of course, the entertainment he gave last winter and
+some, of the unhappy effects that came of it, but you do not know
+all. I was there and enjoyed the evening, and you were there, Mr.
+Elliott, and I am afraid led some into temptation through our
+freedom. Forgive me for saying so, but the truth is best.
+
+"'Wine was free as water--good wine, tempting to the taste. I meant
+to be very guarded, to take only a glass or two, for on the next day
+I had a delicate and dangerous operation to perform, and needed
+steady nerves. But the wine was good, and my one or two glasses only
+made way for three or four. The temptation of the hour were too much
+for my habitual self-restraint. I took a glass of wine with you, Mr.
+Elliott, after I had already taken more than was prudent under the
+circumstances another with Mr. Birtwell, another with General
+Abercrombie--alas for him! he fell that night so low that he has
+never risen again--and another with some one else. It was almost
+impossible to put a restraint upon yourself. Invitation and
+solicitation met you at every turn. The sphere of self-indulgence
+was so strong that it carried almost every one a little too far, and
+many into excess and debauch. I was told afterward that at a late
+hour the scene in the supper-room was simply disgraceful. Boys and
+men, and sadder still, young women, were more than half drunk, and
+behaved most unseemly. I can believe this, for I have seen such
+things too often.
+
+"'As I went out from Mr. Birtwell's that night, and the cold,
+snow-laden air struck into my face on crossing the pavement to my
+carriage, cooling my blood and clearing my brain, I thought of Mrs.
+Carlton and the life that had been placed in my hands, and a feeling
+of concern dropped into my heart. A night's indulgence in
+wine-drinking was a poor preparation for the work before me, in
+which a clear head and steady nerves were absolutely essential. How
+would I be in the morning? The question thrust itself into my
+thoughts and troubled me. My apprehensions were not groundless.
+Morning found me with unsteady nerves. But this was not all. From
+the moment I left my bed until within half an hour of the time when
+the operation was to begin, I was under much excitement and deeply
+anxious about two of my patients, Mrs. Voss and Mrs. Ridley, both
+dangerously ill, Mrs. Voss, as you know, in consequence of her alarm
+about her son, and Mrs. Ridley--But you have heard all about her
+case and its fatal termination, and understand in what way it was
+connected with the party at Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell's. The consequence
+of that night's excesses met me at every turn. The unusual calls,
+the imminent danger in which I found Mrs. Ridley and the almost
+insane demands made upon me by her despairing husband, all conspired
+to break down my unsteady nerves and unfit me for the work I had to
+do. When the time came, there was only one desperate expedient left,
+and that was the use of a strong stimulant, under the effect of
+which I was able to extract the tumor from Mrs. Carlton's neck.
+
+"'Alas for the too temporary support of my stimulant! It failed me
+at the last moment. My sight was not clear nor my hand steady as I
+tied the small arteries which had been cut during the operation. One
+of these, ligated imperfectly, commenced bleeding soon after I left
+the house. A hurried summons reached me almost immediately on my
+return home, and before I had steadied my exhausted nerves with a
+glass of wine. Hurrying back, I found the wound bleeding freely.
+Prompt treatment was required. Ether was again administered. But you
+know the rest, Mr. Elliott. It is all too dreadful, and I cannot go
+over it again. Mrs. Carlton fell another victim to excess in wine.
+This is the true story. I was not blamed by the husband. The real
+cause of the great calamity that fell upon him he does not know to
+this day, and I trust will never know. But I have not since been
+able to look steadily into his dreary eyes. A guilty sense of wrong
+oppresses me whenever I come near him. As I said before, this thing
+is breaking me down. It has robbed me, I know, of many years of
+professional usefulness to which I had looked forward, and left a
+bitter thought in my mind and a shadow on my feelings that can never
+pass away.
+
+"'Mr. Elliott,' he continued, 'you have a position of sacred trust.
+Your influence is large. Set yourself, I pray you, against the evil
+which has wrought these great disasters. Set yourself against the
+dangerous self-indulgence called "moderate drinking." It is doing
+far more injury to society than open drunkenness, more a
+hundred--nay, a thousand--fold. If I had been a drunkard, no such
+catastrophe as this I have mentioned could have happened in my
+practice, for Mr. Carlton would not then have trusted his wife in my
+hands. My drunkenness would have stood as a warning against me. But
+I was a respectable moderate drinker, and could take my wine without
+seeming to be in any way affected by it. But see how it betrayed me
+at last.'"
+
+Mr. Birtwell had been sitting during this relation with his head
+bowed upon his breast. When Mr. Elliott ceased speaking, he raised
+himself up in a slow, weary sort of way, like one oppressed by
+fatigue or weak from illness.
+
+"Dreadful, dreadful!" he ejaculated. "I never dreamed of anything
+like this. Poor Carlton!"
+
+"You see," remarked Mr. Elliott, "how easily a thing like this may
+happen. A man cannot go to one of these evening entertainments and
+indulge with anything like the freedom to which he is invited and be
+in a condition to do his best work on the day following. Some of
+your iron-nerved men may claim an exemption here, but we know that
+all over-stimulation must leave the body in some degree unstrung
+when the excitement dies out, and they suffer loss with the rest--a
+loss the aggregate of which makes itself felt in the end. We have to
+think for a moment only to satisfy ourselves that the wine-and
+brandy-drinking into which men and women are enticed at
+dinner-parties and fashionable entertainments is a fruitful source
+of evil. The effect upon body and mind after the indulgence is over
+is seen in headaches, clouded brain, nervous irritation, lassitude,
+inability to think, and sometimes in a general demoralization of
+both the physical and mental economy. Where there is any chronic or
+organic ailment the morbid condition is increased and sometimes
+severe attacks of illness follow.
+
+"Are our merchants, bankers, lawyers, doctors and men holding
+responsible trusts as fit for duty after a social debauch--is the
+word too strong?--as before? If we reflect for a moment--you see,
+Mr. Birtwell, in what current my thoughts have been running--it must
+be clear to us that after every great entertainment such as you and
+other good citizens are in the habit of giving many business and
+professional mistakes must follow, some of them of a serious
+character. All this crowds upon and oppresses me, and my wonder is
+that it did not long ago so crowd upon and oppress me. It seems as
+though scales had dropped suddenly from my eyes and things I had
+never seen before stood out in clearest vision."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+
+
+
+THEY were still in conversation when Mrs. Birtwell returned. Her
+eyes were wet and her face pale and sorrowful. She sat down beside
+her husband, and without speaking laid her head against him and
+sobbed violently. Mr. Birtwell feared to ask the question whose
+answer he guessed too well.
+
+"How is it with our friend?" Mr. Elliott inquired as Mrs. Birtwell
+grew calmer. She looked up, answering sorrowfully:
+
+"It is all over," then hid her face again, borne down by excessive
+emotion.
+
+"The Lord bless and comfort his stricken ones," said the minister as
+he arose and stood for a few moments with his hand resting on the
+bowed head of Mrs. Birtwell. "The Lord make us wiser, more
+self-denying and more loyal to duty. Out of sorrow let joy come, out
+of trouble peace; out of suffering and affliction a higher, purer
+and nobler life for us all. We are in his merciful hands, and he
+will make us instruments of blessing if we but walk in the ways he
+would lead us. Alas that we have turned from him so often to walk in
+our own paths and follow the devices of our own hearts! His ways are
+way of pleasantness and his paths are peace, but ours wind too often
+among thorns and briars, or go down into the gloomy valley and
+shadow of death."
+
+A solemn silence followed, and in that deep hush vows were made that
+are yet unbroken.
+
+"If any have stumbled through us and fallen by the way," said Mr.
+Elliott, "let us here consecrate ourselves to the work of saving
+them if possible."
+
+He reached his hand toward Mr. Birtwell. The banker did not
+hesitate, but took the minister's extended hand and grasped it with
+a vigor that expressed the strength of his new-formed purpose. Light
+broke through the tears that blinded the eyes of Mrs. Birtwell.
+Clasping both of her hands over those of her husband and Mr.
+Elliott, she cried out with irrepressible emotion:
+
+"I give myself to God also in this solemn consecration!"
+
+"The blessing of our Lord Jesus Christ rest upon it, and make us
+true and faithful," dropped reverentially from the minister's lips.
+
+Somewhere this panorama of life must close. Scene after scene might
+still be given; but if those already presented have failed to stir
+the hearts and quicken the consciences of many who have looked upon
+them, rousing some to a sense of danger and others to a sense of
+duty, it were vain to display another canvas; and so we leave our
+work as it stands, but in the faith that it will do good.
+
+Hereafter we may take it up again and bring into view once more some
+of the actors in whom it is impossible not to feel a strong
+interest. Life goes on, though the record of events be not
+given,--life, with its joys and sorrows, its tempests of passion and
+its sweet calms, its successes and its failures, its all of good and
+evil; goes on though we drop the pencil and leave our canvas blank.
+
+It is no pleasant task to paint as we have been painting, nor as we
+must still paint should the work now dropped ever be resumed. But as
+we take a last look at some of the scenes over which we now draw the
+curtain we see strong points of light and a promise of good shining
+clear through the shadows of the evil.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DANGER; OR, WOUNDED IN THE HOUSE OF A FRIEND ***