natural as well as spiritual good things, of the
corn and the wine equally with the bread and the water of life,
sanctify these bounties that come from thy beneficent hand, and keep us
from any inordinate or hurtful use thereof."

Mr. Ridley drew a deeper breath. A load seemed taken from his bosom. He
felt a sense of freedom and safety. If the wine were pure, it was a
good gift of God, and could not really do him harm. A priest, claiming
to stand as God's representative among men, had invoked a blessing on
this juice of the grape, and given it by this act a healthier potency.
All this crowded upon him, stifling reason and experience and hushing
the voice of prudence.

And now, alas! he was as a feather on the surface of a wind-struck
lake, and given up to the spirit and pressure of the hour. The
dangerous fallacy to which Mr. Elliott had given utterance held his
thoughts to the exclusion of all other considerations. A clear path out
of the dreary wilderness in which he had been, straying seemed to open
before him, and he resolved to walk therein. Fatal delusion!

As soon as Mr. Ridley had supplied Mrs. General Locran with terrapin
and oysters and filled a plate for himself, he poured out two glasses
of wine and handed one of them to the lady, then, lifting the other, he
bowed a compliment and placed it to his lips. The lady smiled on him
graciously, sipping the wine and praising its flavor.

"Pure as nectar," was the mental response of Mr. Ridley as the
long-denied palate felt the first thrill of sweet satisfaction. He had
taken a single mouthful, but another hand seemed to grasp the one that
held the cup of wine and press it back to his lips, from which it was
not removed until empty.

The prescription of Mr. Elliott failed. Either the wine was not pure or
his theory was at fault. It was but little over an hour from the fatal
moment when Mr. Ridley put a glass of wine to his lips ere he went out
alone into the storm of a long-to-be-remembered night in a state of
almost helpless intoxication, and staggered off in the blinding snow
that soon covered his garments like a winding sheet.

CHAPTER VII.

THE nurse of Mrs. Ridley had found her in a nervous chill, at which she
was greatly troubled. More clothing was laid upon the bed, and bottles
of hot water placed to her feet. To all this Mrs. Ridley made no
objection--remained, in fact, entirely passive and irresponsive, like
one in a partial stupor, from whic