During the whole of that terrible night Effie scarcely slept. It was the worst night in all her life. Toward morning she dozed a little, but sprang up with a start, fearing that George had gone to London without seeing her. For her mother's sake she must see him. Whatever happened, her mother must never know of this calamity. Effie got up, washed her hands and face, smoothed out her hair, and went downstairs. George was already up, he was standing in the little parlor. He turned round when he heard his sister's footsteps, and looked anxiously at her. "What a brute I am!" he said, when he saw the expression on her face; "but I swear before God, Effie, if you will help me, I'll turn over a new leaf; I'll never do a wrong thing again as long as I live--I swear it." "Don't swear it," said Effie; "it seems to make it worse to do that. If you did wrong once, you may again. Don't swear. Ask God to help you. I don't know that I have been praying all night, but I have been trying to." "Well, Effie, what have you determined to do?" he asked. "Is there no one else who can help you, George?" "Not a soul; I have only one friend, and that is Fred Lawson." "Oh, yes! I remember you spoke of him last night. Would he help you?" "He help me!" said George, with a hysterical laugh. "Why, he is the chap I have wronged. There, don't ask me any more. If you can help me, I am saved; if you can't, say so, and I'll go straight to destruction." "No, you shan't do that, George. I have thought of something--nothing may come of it, but I'm going to try. It is terribly repugnant to me, but I would sacrifice much to save my mother. If it fails, all fails." "I have thought," said George eagerly, "that, as the case is such an extreme one, we might take some of the capital. There is a thousand pounds; a quarter of that sum would put me right." "It cannot be done for a moment," said Effie, her face flushing hotly. "That money must under no circumstances be touched; my mother and the children depend on it for their bread." "I don't know what is to be done, then," said George in a hopeless voice. "You must trust to me, George; I am going to try to help you in my own way. If I fail, I fail; but somehow I don't think I shall. If I have any news I will write to you soon; and now good-by, good-by." George turned and kissed Effie; she gave him her cheek, but her lips did not touch his. She was willing to help him, but her love for the time was dead or dying. The young man walked hurriedly down the village street. Effie stood in the porch and watched him; his shoulders were bowed, he stooped. George used to have a fine figure; Effie used to be proud of him--she was not proud of her brother now. She went back to the house, and sat down listlessly for a time in the little parlor--her hands were folded in her lap. It seemed to her as if the end of all things had come.