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.