“I have killed her,” said the weeping mother, as she chafed her cold temples, and kissed her colorless lips. “I have killed her,” she murmured, bending over her, as Mary passed from one convulsive fit to another. “Will she die, Jacob?” asked Lucy, looking mournfully up into her husband’s pallid face. “Will she die, Jacob?” “Better so,” groaned the old man. “God’s curse on him who has done this. She was my all. What’s my gold good for, if it can not bring back the light to _her_ eye, the peace to _her_ heart? My gold that I have toiled for, and piled up in shining heaps: what is it good for?” “The curse was on it, Jacob,” groaned Lucy. “Oh, Jacob, I told you so. God forgive us; it was cankered gold.” “Why did the villain blast _my_ home?” asked Jacob, apparently unconscious of what Lucy had said; “kill my one ewe lamb; all Jacob had to love--all that made him human? Lucy, I never prayed, but perhaps _He_ would hear me for her;” and he knelt by his child. “Oh God, make my soul miserable forever, if thou wilt, but spare _her_--take the misery out of _her_ heart.” “If it be Thy will,” responded Lucy. “Don’t say that, Lucy,” said Jacob. “I must have it so;--what has she done, poor lamb?” CHAPTER III. Percy Lee a defaulter--a swindler! The news flew like wildfire. “No great catch, after all,” said a rival beauty, tossing her ringlets. “I expected something of that sort,” said a modern Solomon. “Hope he’ll be imprisoned for life,” said a charitable tailor, whom Jacob Ford had eclipsed, “this will bring Jacob’s pride down a trifle, I’m thinking.” “How lucky you did not succeed in catching him,” said a mother, confidentially, to her daughter. “I?” exclaimed the young lady. “I? Is it possible you can be so stupid, mamma, as to suppose I would waste a thought on Percy Lee! I assure you he offered himself to Mary Ford in a fit of pique at my rejection. Don’t imagine you are in all my secrets,” said the dutiful young lady, tossing her head. “Well--her disappearance from society is certain--thank goodness--not that she interferes with _me_; but her pretended simplicity is so disgusting! What the men in our set could see to admire in her, passes me; but _chacun à son gout_.” * * * * * “Of course, Lee will get clear,” said a rough dray-man to his comrade. “These big fish always flounder out of the net; it is only the minnows who get caught. Satan! it makes me swear to think of it. I will be sure to stand at the court-house door when he is brought for trial, and insult him if I can. I hope the aristocratic hound will swing for it.”