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diff --git a/old/dngrr10.txt b/old/dngrr10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ff27ae4..0000000 --- a/old/dngrr10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9862 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg Etext of Danger; or Wounded in the House of a Friend -by T. S. Arthur -(#1 in our series by T. S. Arthur) - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the -copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing -this or any other Project Gutenberg file. - -Please do not remove this header information. - -This header should be the first thing seen when anyone starts to -view the eBook. 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Arthur - -Release Date: October, 2003 [Etext #4586] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on February 12, 2002] - -Edition: 10 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -The Project Gutenberg Etext of Danger; or Wounded in the House of a Friend -by T. S. Arthur -******This file should be named dngrr10.txt or dngrr10.zip****** - -Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, dngrr11.txt -VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, dngrr10a.txt - -Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -The "legal small print" and other information about this book -may now be found at the end of this file. Please read this -important information, as it gives you specific rights and -tells you about restrictions in how the file may be used. - -*** -This etext was created by Charles Aldarondo (Aldarondo@yahoo.com) - -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. Hiilhouse, 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 be 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 steadly 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. -The Project Gutenberg Etext of Danger; or Wounded in the House of a Friend -by T. S. 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