In the end it biteth like a
serpent and stingeth like an adder."
Her closing sentence cut like a knife, and Mr. Elliott felt the
sharp edge.
"He fell," resumed Mrs. Birtwell, "but the hurt was not with him
alone. His wife died on the next day, and it has been said that the
condition in which he came home from our house gave her a shock that
killed her."
Mrs. Birtwell shivered.
"People say a great many things," returned Mr. Elliott, "and this, I
doubt not is greatly exaggerated. Have you asked Doctor Hillhouse in
regard to the facts in the case? He attended Mrs. Ridley, I think."
"No. I've been afraid to ask him."
"It might relieve your mind."
"Do you think I would feel any better if he said yea instead of nay?
No, Mr. Elliott. I am afraid to question him."
"It's a sad affair," remarked the clergyman, gloomily, "and I don't
see what is to be done about a it. When a man falls as low as Mr.
Ridley has fallen, the case seems hopeless."
"Don't say hopeless, Mr. Elliott." responded Mrs. Birtwell, her
voice still more troubled. "Until a man is dead he is not wholly
lost. The hand of God is not stayed, and he can save to the
uttermost."
"All who come unto him," added the clergyman, in a depressed voice
that had in it the knell of a human soul. But these besotted men
will not go to him. I am helpless and in despair of salvation, when
I stand face to face with a confirmed drunkard.
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