“My matchless wife,” said Burton, “you have borne our past trials so bravely, that I am not afraid of your sinking under this new misfortune: but summon up all your fortitude, for you will need it. Our persecutor, Lander, has not exhausted his arts yet, but is determined to humble us still more. He has power over us now, and employs it to gratify his cowardly malice. But let him beware! That power may one day change hands, and then, so help me Heaven! I will bruise his serpent head beneath this heel;” and he stamped his foot fiercely on the floor. “Now you distress me, indeed,” said Lucy; “but, oh, Sydney! you will not forget your promise, that there shall be no violence between you and that wicked man.” “Forgive me,” said Burton, “I forgot myself; that promise is sacred, and never will I grieve your gentle heart by breaking it. But see what this villain has done! He has managed, by some artifice, to get possession of claims against me, which I never dreamed would be pressed, until I should be able to pay them without inconvenience. He has brought suit, and we must prepare to surrender up even the poor remnants that are left us.” “I understand it all,” said Lucy. “Oh, my poor father!” “Let him rest in peace,” said Burton; “if he acted unwisely he paid the penalty of a broken heart: let us not disturb his ashes.” Lucy threw her arms around her husband’s neck, and wept like a child. “You forgive him then,” she said, “for the sake of his daughter’s love and duty. Oh, Heaven will bless you for your generosity.” “Heaven has blessed me,” said he, fondly embracing her; “and I would not give one throb of this loving heart for all the gold Lander ever owned.” But the sad reality at length came, and their relentless creditor advertised the poor furniture of their cottage for sale. Burton found, as is usual under such circumstances, that his friends had grown remarkably polite and formal; but they kept at a distance, and no one offered him assistance; nor could he ask it, as the claims were much greater than he could possibly pay, and his income from his profession little more than afforded him a subsistence. He was, therefore, “sold out,” all but the scanty articles which the law allows the poor. But although the world had grown cold, his own fire-side was still as bright as ever; and when he thought of Lucy, as he had first seen her—a gay, mischievous girl, raised in the lap of luxury, and then looked upon her as his wife—serene and cheerful in the midst of poverty and worldly disgrace, he admired and reverenced the depths of woman’s affection. And this deep, pure fountain of love flowed only for him! Well might he prize it above rivers of gold! * * * * *