"Yes. To save the children and let the father go to destruction."
"She would take them away from him?"
"Yes, thus cutting the last strand of the cord that held him away from utter ruin."
A groan that could not be repressed broke from Mr. Elliott's lips.
"This must not be—at least not now," added Mrs. Birtwell, in a firm voice. "It may be possible to save him through his home and children. But if separated from them and cast wholly adrift, what hope is left?"
"None, I fear," replied Mr. Elliott.
"Then on this last hope will I build my faith and work for his rescue," said Mrs. Birtwell, with a solemn determination; "and may I count on your help?"
"To the uttermost in my power." There was nothing half-hearted in Mr. Elliott's reply. He meant to do all that his answer involved.
"Ah!" remarked Mrs. Birtwell as they talked still farther about the unhappy case, "how much easier is prevention than cure! How much easier to keep a stumbling-block out of another's way than to set him on his feet after he has fallen! Oh, this curse of drink!"
"A fearful one indeed," said Mr. Elliott, "and one that is desolating thousands of homes all over the land."