After a slight pause she
said:
"In visiting a friend yesterday I observed a young girl whom I had
never seen at the house before. She was about fifteen or sixteen
years of age, and had a face of great refinement and much beauty.
But I noticed that it had a sad, shy expression. My friend did not
introduce her, but said, turning to the girl a few moments after I
came in:
"'Go up to the nursery, Ethel, and wait until I am disengaged!'
"As the girl left the room I asked, 'Who is that young lady?'
remarking at the same time that there was something peculiarly
interesting about her.
"'It's a sad case, remarked my friend, her voice falling to a tone
of regret and sympathy. 'And I wish I knew just what to do about
it.'
"'Who is the young girl?' I asked repeating my question.
"'The daughter of a Mr. Ridley,' she replied."
Mrs. Birtwell gave a little start, while an expression of pain
crossed her face. The lady did not look at her, but she felt the
change her mention of Mr. Ridley had produced.
"'What of him?' I asked; not having heard the name before.
"'Oh, I thought you knew about him. He's a lawyer, formerly a member
of Congress, and a man of brilliant talents. He distinguished
himself at Washington, and for a time attracted much attention there
for his ability as well as for his fine personal qualities. But
unhappily he became intemperate, and at the end of his second term
had fallen so low that his party abandoned him and sent another in
his place.
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