"_Noblesse oblige_ has nothing to do with it," she said; "or, if it had, it was the other way. He was bound to stay free for your and Edith's sake." Pretty Edith answered quickly: "No, no, for we shall not want him to help pay for our dresses much longer. Maud's book and my picture are almost done, and if we sell them, we shall have money of our own." "_Châteaux en Espagne_!" Mrs. Van Zandt muttered softly, with a covert sneer. She had no talent only for looking pretty and dressing well, and envied that of her more gifted sisters-in-law. They were used to her sneers, and they winced, but seldom retorted. The dreamy, dignified Maud looked out of the window with a little sigh, and the more self-assertive Edith exclaimed: "There's no use crying over spilled milk, anyhow, and Eliot's married for good and all. He has as much right to bring his bride home as you had, Bryant, so we may as well all make the best of it--there!" "No one disputes his right, Edith, we only deplore his imprudence," Bryant answered, flushing. "As for me, I married a woman who would be no burden upon me, but Eliot candidly owns that he has made a _mésalliance_." "Married a pauper and a nobody!" flashed his wife. "It is no such thing. Let me see his letter. He did not say that!" cried Edith, angrily. "Not exactly in those words, but it amounts to the same thing," Bryant Van Zandt answered. He threw her the letter, and said impatiently: "Well, you may fight it out among yourselves. I am going down-town." He put on his hat and went out. Edith and Maud read their brother's letter together. Its deprecatory, almost pleading tone, touched their loyal young hearts. "Poor Eliot, he could not help it. We must not scold," said Edith. "This old house is big enough for us all, isn't it, Maud?" "Yes," she answered; but the sweet eyes were grave with trouble as she fixed them on Mrs. Van Zandt. She burst out suddenly: "Oh, Sylvie, do not look so glum, please. Of course, we do not like it, and neither did Eliot, I fancy; but you must see there was no other way for a Van Zandt, so we must make the best of it." "Fancy a Van Zandt--one of the Van Zandts, of Boston--bringing home an A B C school-girl as a bride!" was the disdainful answer she received. Vivacious Edith cried out tartly: "You need not take on such airs, Sylvie. You are not so learned yourself. New York girls never know anything but dressing and flirting." "We marry into poor, learned families, and so adjust the difference," Mrs. Van Zandt replied, sarcastically. Both the sisters flushed hotly at this coarse rejoinder. Mrs. Van Zandt had been generous with her money, flinging it about her with the lavish hand of a spoiled darling of Fortune; but she was always conscious of its importance, never more so than when twitted with her execrable French, her questionable time in music, and her outrageous flirting, that sometimes drove poor Bryant wild with jealousy.