her is my heartfelt prayer. She will have need, I fear, of more than
human help and comfort."

"You take the worst for granted?"

The lady drew a deep sigh:

"I fear the worst, and know something of what the worst means. There
are few families of any note in our city," she added, after a slight
pause, "in which sorrow has not entered through the door of
intemperance. Ah! is not the name of the evil that comes in through
this door Legion? and we throw it wide open and invite both young
and old to enter. We draw them by various allurements. We make the
way of this door broad and smooth and flowery, full of pleasantness
and enticement. We hold out our hands, we smile with encouragement,
we step inside of the door to show them the way."

In her ardor the lady half forgot herself, and stopped suddenly as
she observed that two or three of the company who stood near had
been listening.

Meantime, Blanche Birtwell had managed to get Whitford away from the
table, and was trying to induce him to leave the supper-room. She
hung on his arm and talked to him in a light, gay manner, as though
wholly unconscious of his condition. They had reached the door
leading into the hall, when Whitford stopped, and drawing back,
said:

"Oh, there's Fred Lovering, my old college friend. I didn't know he
was in the city." Then he called out, in a voice so loud as to cause