'We must not talk now,' she said, 'for fear he should wake up and miss me; he is irritable, and has heart-disease. May I call and see you to-morrow? I know where your office is. I wrote the notes you received from papa.' 'I shall be glad to see you,' I said. 'At three o'clock, then,' were her last words, and we shook hands and parted. A heavy rain had set in during my visit, but I was scarcely conscious of it as I walked into the town. Late as it was, I went to my office. For what purpose do you think? To get the notes which I had received from Mr. Glaive--the notes which now were precious to me because she had written them. I took them home with me and read them, and studied the delicate writing with senseless infatuation, and then placed them under my pillow for a charm, as a schoolgirl might have done. At the office the next morning I made another and a closer examination of Mr. Glaive's affairs, with the same result as I had previously obtained. Ruin was before him--before her. Punctually at three o'clock Miss Glaive arrived. I met her at the door, and conducted her to my private room. My impressions of the previous night were deepened by her appearance; she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, and her charm of manner was perfect. It would be useless for me to attempt to describe the feelings with which she inspired me; I have often endeavoured to account for them and understand them, and have never succeeded. 'Papa is very ill to-day,' she said; 'the doctor has been to see him, and says that he is suffering from mental disorder, which may prove dangerous. I have come to you to ask you the nature of his trouble.' 'Do you not think,' I asked, 'that he would be angry if he knew I had made any disclosure of his private affairs?' 'But he need not know,' she replied; 'I shall not tell him. Let it be a confidence between us. I saw some papers which you brought last night, but I do not understand them any more than papa does.' I could not resist her pleading, and I told her, awkwardly and hesitatingly, what I had told her father. 'And all this trouble is about money,' she said with smiles; 'I was afraid it was something worse.' I told her that it could not well be worse, unless she knew where money was to be obtained. She answered that she did not know, but that she supposed it would be got somewhere. 'You don't understand these matters of business,' I said; 'it is perhaps better for you.' 'That can't be,' she exclaimed; 'if I knew anything of business I should know where to get the money from, and I would get it That is what business men are for, is it not?' Charmed as I was by her simplicity--a simplicity which was utterly new to me, and which it was delightful to hear from her lips--I deemed it my duty to explain matters clearly to her. Steeling my heart, I did so in plain terms, and showed her the position in which her father would be placed within a very few days.