A stifled cry of pain, and the girl's soft cheek is pressed to hers in despairing love. "No, mamma, no," she wails. "You must not die and leave me alone." "Alone?" the mother re-echoes. "Beautiful, poor and alone in the great, cruel world--oh, my God!" "You cannot be dying, mamma," the girl says, hopefully. "They--Mrs. Cleveland and Miss Ivy--could not go on to their balls and operas if you were as bad as _that_!" Something of bitter scorn touches the faded beauty of the woman's face a moment. "Much they would care," she says, in a tone of scorn. "At this moment my sister and her proud daughter are dancing and feasting at the Riverton's ball, utterly careless and indifferent to the fact that the poor dependent is lying here all alone, but for her poor, friendless child." "You were no dependent, mamma," the girl says, with a gleam of pride in her dark eyes. "You worked hard for all we have had. But, mamma, if--if you _leave_ me, I will not be Ivy Cleveland's slave any longer. I shall go away." "Where, dear?" the mother asks, anxiously. "Somewhere," vaguely; "anywhere, away from these wicked Clevelands. I hate them, mamma!" she says, with sudden passion in her voice and face. "You do not hate Leslie Noble?" Mrs. Campbell asks, anxiously. "No, mamma, for though he is akin to them he is unlike them. Mr. Noble is always kind to me," Vera answers, musingly. "Listen to me, Vera, child. Mr. Noble l--likes you. He wishes to marry you," the mother exclaims, with a flush of excitement in her eyes. "Marry me?" Vera repeats, a little blankly. "Yes, dear. Are you willing?" "I--I am too young, am I not, mamma?" "Seventeen, dear. As old as I was when I married your father," Mrs. Campbell answers with a look of heart pain flitting over the pallid face. "I have never thought of marrying," Vera goes on musingly. "He will not be angry if I refuse, will he, mamma?" "But, Vera, you must not refuse," the invalid cries out, in a sudden spasm of feverish anxiety. "Your future will be settled if you marry Mr. Noble. I can die in peace, leaving you in the care of a good husband. Oh, my darling, you do not know what a cruel world this is. I dare not leave you alone, my pure, white lamb, amid its terrible dangers." Exhausted by her eager speech she breaks into a terrible fit of coughing. Vera bends over, penitent and loving. "Cheer up, mamma," she whispers; "I am not going to refuse him. Since he wants me, I will marry him for your sake, dear." "But you like him, Vera?" the mother asks, with piteous pleading. "Oh, yes," calmly. "He is very nice, isn't he? But, do you know, I think, mamma, that Ivy intended to marry him herself. I heard her say so." "Yes, I know, but you see he preferred you, my darling," the mother answers, with whitening lips. "Then I will marry him. How angry my cousin will be," Vera answers, with all the calmness of a heart untouched by the _grande passion_.