“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.”