s the carriage moved away she
said:

"I heard something to-day that troubles me. I am told that Mr. Ridley,
since the death of his wife, has become very intemperate, and that his
family are destitute--so much so, indeed, that his daughter has applied
to you for the situation of day-governess in order to earn something
for their support."

"It is too true," replied Mrs. Sandford. "The poor child came to see me
in answer to an advertisement."

"Have you engaged her?"

"No. She is too young and inexperienced for the place. But something
must be done for her."

"What? Have you thought out anything? You may count on my sympathy and
co-operation."

"The first thing to be done," replied Mrs. Sandford, "is to lift her
out of her present wretched condition. She must not be left where she
is, burdened with the support of her drunken and debased father. She is
too weak for that--too young and beautiful and innocent to be left amid
the temptations and sorrows of a life such as she must lead if no one
comes to her rescue."

"But what will become of her father if you remove his child from him?"
asked Mrs. Birtwell.

Her voice betrayed concern. The carriage stopped at the residence of
Mrs. Sandford, and the two ladies went in.

"What will become of her wretched father?"

Mrs. Birtwell repeated her question as they entered the parlors.

"He is beyond our reach," was answered. "When a man falls so low, the
case is hopeless. He is the slave of an appetite that never gives up
its victims. It is a sad and a sorrowful thing, I know, to abandon all
efforts to save a human soul, to see it go drafting off into the rapids
with the sound of the cataract in your ears, and it is still more sad
and sorrowful to be obliged to hold back the loving ones who could only
perish in their vain attempts at rescue. So I view the case. Ethel must
not be permitted to sacrifice herself for her father."

Mrs. Birtwell sat for a long time without replying. Her eyes were bent
upon the floor.

"Hopeless!" she murmured, at length, in a low voice that betrayed the
pain she felt. "Surely that cannot be so. While there is life there
must be hope. God is not dead."

She uttered the last sentence with a strong rising inflection in her
tones.

"But the drunkard seems dead to all the saving influences that God or
man can bring to bear upon him," replied Mrs. Sandford.

"No, no, no! I will not believe it," said Mrs. Birtwell, speaking now
with great d