Mrs. Birtwell's experience was a common one. She had scarcely taken
her first step in the path of duty before the next was made plain.
In her case this was so marked as to fill her with surprise. She had
undertaken to save a human soul wellnigh lost, and was entering upon
her work with that singleness of purpose which gives success where
success is possible. Such being the case, she was an instrument
through which a divine love of saving could operate. She became, as
it were, the human hand by which God could reach down and grasp a
sinking soul ere the dark waters of sin and sorrow closed over it
for ever.
She was sitting alone that evening, her heart full of the work to
which she had set her hand and her mind beating about among many
suggestions, none of which had any reasonable promise of success,
when a call from Mr. Elliott was announced. This was unusual. What
could it mean? Naturally she associated it with Mr. Ridley. She
hurried down to meet him, her heart beating rapidly. As she entered
the parlor Mr. Elliott, who was standing in the centre of the room,
advanced quickly toward her and grasped her hand with a strong
pressure. His manner was excited and there was a glow of unusual
interest on his face:
"I have just heard something that I wish to talk with you about.
There is hope for our poor friend."
"For Mr. Ridley?" asked Mrs. Birtwell, catching the excitement of
her visitor.
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