The doctor went away, and Mr. Ridley, shaking with nervous tremors, dropped weak and helpless into a chair and bending forward until his head rested on his knees, sat crouching down, an image of suffering and despair.
CHAPTER IX.
"ELLIS, my son."
There was a little break and tremor in the voice. The young man addressed was passing the door of his mother's room, and paused on hearing his name.
"What is it?" he asked, stepping inside and looking curiously into his mother's face, where he saw a more than usually serious expression.
"Sit down, Ellis; I want to say a word to you before going to Mrs. Birtwell's."
The lady had just completed her toilette, and was elegantly dressed for an evening party. She was a handsome, stately-looking woman, with dark hair through which ran many veins of silver, large, thoughtful eyes and a mouth of peculiar sweetness.
The young man took a chair, and his mother seated herself in front of him.
"Ellis."