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: