"And suppose you _had_ money--attend to me, Lucy, for I wish a serious answer--suppose you were in possession of money, would you be really willing to sacrifice a portion of it, to save this good friend, William Arkell?" "All, aunt, all!" she answered, eagerly, "and think it no sacrifice." "Then put on your bonnet, Lucy, child," returned Miss Arkell, "and come with me." They went forth to the house of Mr. Arkell; and as it turned out, the visit was opportune, for Mrs. Arkell was away, dining from home. Mr. Arkell was in a little back parlour, looking over accounts and papers, with his son. The old man--and he was looking an old man that evening, with trouble, not with years--rose in surprise when he saw who were his visitors, and Travice's hectic colour went and came. Mildred had never been in the room since she was a young woman, and it called up painful recollections. It was the twilight hour of the evening: that best hour, of all the twenty-four, for any embarrassing communication. "William," began Miss Arkell, seating herself by her cousin, and speaking in a low tone, "we have heard it whispered that your affairs are temporarily involved. Is it so?" "The world will soon know it, Mildred, above a whisper." "It is even so then! What has led to it?" "Oh, Mildred! can you ask what has led to it, when you look at the misery and distress everywhere around us? Search the _Gazette_ for the past years, and see how many names you will find in it, who once stood as high as ours! The only wonder is, that we have not yet gone with the stream. It is a hard case, Mildred, when we have toiled all our lives, that the labour should come to nothing at last," he continued; "that our closing years, which ought to be given to thoughts of another world, must be distracted with the anxious cares of this." "Is your difficulty serious, or only temporary?" resumed Miss Arkell. "It ought to be only temporary," he replied; "but the worst is, I cannot, at the present moment, command my resources. We have kept on manufacturing, hoping for better times; and, to tell you the truth, Mildred, I could not reconcile it to my conscience to turn off my old workmen to beggary. There was Travice, too. I have a heavy stock of goods on hand; to the amount of some thousands; and this locks up my diminished capital. I am still worth what would cover my business liabilities twice over--and I have no others--but I cannot avail myself of it for present emergencies. I have turned every stone, Mildred, to keep my head above water: and I believe I can struggle no longer." "What amount of money would effectually relieve you?" asked Miss Arkell. "About three thousand pounds," he replied, answering the question without any apparent interest. "Then to-morrow morning vouchers for that sum shall be placed in the Westerbury bank at your disposal. _And for double that sum, if you require it._"