yet refused. She saw him start and look disconcerted as the
waiter spoke to him, then wave the glass of wine aside. But he did not
stir from him place.

The waiter came back to Mrs. Whitford:

"He says don't wait for him, ma'am."

The poor mother felt an icy coldness run along her nerves. For some
moments she stood irresolute, and then went back to the parlor. She
remained there for a short time, masking her countenance as best she
could, and then returned to the dining-room, where noise and merriment
still prevailed. She did not at first see her son, though her eyes went
quickly from face to face and from form to form. She was about
retiring, under the impression that he was not there, when the waiter
to whom she had spoken before said to her:

"Are you looking for Mr. Whitford?"

There was something in his voice that made her heart stand still.

"Yes," she replied.

"You will find him at the lower end of the room, just in the corner,"
said the man.

Mrs. Whitford made her way to the lower end of the room. Ellis was
sitting in a chair, stupid and maudlin, and two or three thoughtless
girls were around his chair laughing at his drunken efforts to be
witty. The shocked mother did not speak to him, but shrunk away and
went gliding from the room. At the door she said to the waiter who had
followed her out, drawn by a look she gave him:

"I will be ready to go in five minutes, and I want Mr. Whitford to go
with me. Get him down to the door as quietly as you can."

The waiter went back into the supper-room, and with a tact that came
from experience in cases similar to this managed to get the young man
away without arousing his opposition.

Five minutes afterward, as Mrs. Whitford sat in her carriage at the
door of Mr. Birtwell's palace home, her son was pushed in, half
resisting, by two waiters, so drunk that his wretched mother had to
support him with her arm all the way home. Is it any wonder that in her
aching heart the mother cried out, "Oh, that he had died a baby on my
breast!"

CHAPTER XI.

AMONG the guests at Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell's was an officer holding a
high rank in the army, named Abercrombie. He had married, many years
before, a lady of fine accomplishments and rare culture who was
connected with one of the oldest families in New York. Her grandfather
on her mother's side had distinguished himself as an officer in the
Revolutionary war; and on her father's side she could count statesmen