But matters could not be helped, and the chagrined husband made the most of it, invested his wife’s small fortune carefully, and, by earnest attention to business, made money steadily for several years. Report said, also, that Richard Forrester gave him a handsome lift, and it was not long before he was reputed to be the possessor of a large fortune. But, of course, his marriage with Miss Forrester was not legal, although he had confidently believed it to be so until this very day; and Earle condemned himself for many things that he had said, after being reminded by that low moan of how much Editha had been made to suffer. Mr. Dalton saw how it wounded him, and laughed maliciously, whereupon Earle turned upon him almost savagely. “Do you mean me to understand that you will wound me by venting your malice upon her? Let me assure you that if I know of your willfully causing her even one moment’s unhappiness, I will have no mercy on you,” he said. Mr. Dalton chuckled. “You are really fond of—ah—your _sister_; it is really pleasant to see such unity in a family. I trust you will always be as fond of your—_sister_.” He seemed to take a satanic delight in repeating the word. He knew that it fell upon both their hearts like the blow from a hammer. “My sister! God forgive me, she _is_ my sister; but I do not love her _as such_,” Earle groaned, as he wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. This was music to Sumner Dalton’s ears, but he knew it would not do to trespass too far; so, rising, he said, with the most consummate coolness: “Since it would not sound well for a man in your position to allow his father to suffer for the necessaries of life, I will consent to accept your offer of that ten thousand, and you can make it over to me with as little delay as possible. And now I will bid you good-morning, leaving you and your _sister_ to talk over your future prospects and comfort one another as best you can.” With a low, echoing, mocking laugh, he left the room and those two wretched young people were alone. In the exceeding bitterness of his soul Earle again dropped his head upon the table, and a long, long silence ensued. Editha lay perfectly still upon the sofa. At last Earle arose and went and knelt down beside her. “Editha!” he said; and it is not possible to convey any idea of the pain crowded into the one word. Only a low moan answered him. “Editha,” he said again, almost wildly, “I would have saved you from this had it been possible.” She turned her face up to him at this in speechless misery. She had shed no tears over what she had heard; the horror of it had seemed to scorch and burn them up at their very fountain. Her eyes were heavy, her face perfectly hueless, her lips parched and drawn, her hands hot and burning. That one look of hers, so piteous and full of anguish, unmanned Earle completely, and, dropping his head upon the pillow beside hers, sob after sob broke from him.