Half buried in the snow, he was discovered soon
afterward and carried to a police station, where he found himself
next morning in one of the cells, a wretched, humiliated, despairing
man.
"Why, Mr. Ridley! It can't be possible!" It was the exclamation of
the police magistrate when this man was brought, soon after
daylight, before him.
Ridley stood dumb in presence of the officer, who was touched by the
helpless misery of his face.
"You were at Mr. Birtwell's?"
Ridley answered by a silent inclination of his head.
"I do not wonder," said the magistrate, his voice softening, "that,
you lost your way in the storm last night. You are not the only one
who found himself astray and at fault. Our men had to take care of
quite a number of Mr. Birtwell's guests. But I will not detain you,
Mr. Ridley. I am sorry this has happened. You must be more careful
in future."
With slow steps and bowed head Mr. Ridley left the station-house and
took his way homeward. How could he meet his wife? What of her? How
had she passed the night? Vividly came up the parting scene as she
lay with her babe, only a few days old, close against her bosom, her
tender eyes, in which he saw shadows of fear, fixed lovingly upon
his face.
He had promised to be home soon, and had said a fervent "God bless
you!" as he left a kiss warm upon her lips.
And now! He stood still, a groan breaking on the air. Go home! How
could he look into the face of his wife again? She had walked with
him through the valley of humiliation in sorrow and suffering and
shame for years, and now, after going up from this valley and
bearing her to a pleasant land of hope and happiness, he had plunged
down madly.
Pages:
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70