“’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.