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.”