With this money in his possession the old gentleman went to the village to make arrangements for the payment of the most importunate of his creditors. As he walked along the street, he came in front of the house which had been the scene of his ruinous losses. An irresistible temptation seized him to make one more effort to retrieve his fortunes. He would try his luck; if fortune smiled, all would yet be well; if she frowned, after losing a small sum, he would abandon the gambling-table forever. With this resolution, he entered, and was soon wholly absorbed in the chances of the game. Fortune _did_ smile, and, with unwonted success, he became bold and desperate. The stakes grew heavy, and he fearlessly increased them. His wily competitor marked his time, and made them still higher; Parkett again increased them. His competitor doubled them. Parkett, now mad with excitement, threw down all that he had brought, and all that he had won. There was a breathless pause. The result was announced—and he had lost! For several minutes he stared vacantly around him, then, pulling his hat over his brows, he rushed from the house. His ruin was now complete; but what explanation could he give to Burton? and, what would become of his darling child? He returned home, and going directly to his private room, sent for Burton, who, observing his extraordinary emotion, remained a wondering and anxious listener. “You asked me for my daughter’s hand,” said he, “and I gave it to you, because I thought you worthy of her. You then supposed me to be an honest man, and the owner of valuable possessions. It is my duty now to inform you, that I am a villain and a beggar.” “I beg you will compose yourself,” said Burton, believing that his mind had become disordered; “you allow your pecuniary difficulties to affect you too deeply. However they may result, they cannot affect either your honor, or my affection for your daughter. She has given me her heart, and I ask nothing from you but her hand.” “My honor, it is true, is beyond the reach of circumstances,” said Parkett, bitterly. “You this morning loaned me five thousand dollars, to pay the most pressing claims against my property. That money is gone—no matter how—and the claims are not staid. I have not only brought ruin upon myself, but upon you also. My property will be sacrificed, and your money lost; What say you now? Am I not a villain?” “I must again entreat you to compose yourself,” replied Burton; “and, I repeat, that I love your daughter for herself alone; and, if all that you have said were true, I would not the less claim her for my wife.” “Young man,” said Parkett, seizing Burton eagerly by the hand, “she is yours; and may God Almighty bless your union. The dread of bringing sorrow and wretchedness upon my innocent lamb wrung my heart most of all. You have relieved me from that care, and the grave will soon hide my shame.”