Ridley turned
from the clergyman and stood like one at bay. His eyes had a fiery
gleam; there was anger on his brow and defiance in the hard lines of
his mouth. He scowled at the servant threateningly. The latter, a
strong and resolute man, only waited for an order to remove the
visitor, which he would have done in a very summary way, but Mr.
Elliott wanted no violence.
The group formed a striking tableau, and to any spectator who could
have viewed it one of intense interest. For a little while Mr.
Ridley and the servant stood scowling at each other. Then came a
sudden change. A start, a look of alarm, followed by a low cry of
fear, and Mr. Ridley sprang toward the door, and was out of the room
and hurrying down stairs before a movement could be made to
intercept him, even if there had been on the part of the other two
men any wish to do so.
Mr. Elliott stood listening to the sound of his departing feet until
the heavy jar of the outer door resounded through the passages and
all became still. A motion of his hand caused the servant to retire,
As he went out Mr. Elliott sank into a chair. His face had become
pale and distressed. He was sick at heart and sorely troubled. What
did all this mean? Had his unconsidered words brought forth fruit
like this? Was he indeed responsible for the fall of a weak brother
and all the sad and sorrowful consequences which had followed? He
was overwhelmed, crushed down, agonized by the thought, It was the
bitterest moment in all his life.
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