“Over head and ears,” muttered the other; “we have been discounting their paper freely all through the winter, till our drawers are choke- full of their acceptances, not one of which would now realize a dollar.” “How did the news come? Are you sure of its being authentic?” “Too sure; it came in a despatch to Mrs. Morris from London. All the investments she has been making lately for the Heathcotes are clean swept away; a matter of sixty thousand pounds not worth as many penny- pieces.” “The fortune of Miss Leslie?” asked Stocmar. “Yes; she can stand it, I fancy, but it's a heavy blow too.” “Has she heard the news yet?” “No, nor Sir William either. The widow cautioned me strictly not to say a word about it. Of course, it will be all over the city in an hour or so, from other sources.” “What do you mean to do, then?” “Twist is trying to convert some of our paper into cash, at a heavy sacrifice. If he succeed, we can stand it; if not, we must bolt to- night.” He paused for a few seconds, and then, in a lower whisper, said, “Is n't she game, that widow? What do you think she said? 'This is mere panic, Trover,' said she; 'it's a Yankee roguery, and nothing more. If I could command a hundred thousand pounds this minute, I 'd invest every shilling of it in their paper; and if May Leslie will let me, you 'll see whether I 'll be true to my word.'” “It's easy enough to play a bold game on one's neighbor's money,” said Stocmar. “She'd have the same pluck if it were her own, or I mistake her much. Has _he_ got any disposable cash?” whispered Trover, with a jerk of his thumb towards Paten. “Not a sixpence in the world.” “What a situation!” said Trover, in a whisper, trembling with agitation. “Oh, there's Heathcote's brougham,--stopping here too! See! that's Mrs. Morris, giving some directions to the servant. She wants to see you, I'm sure.” Stocmar, making a sign to Trover to keep Paten in conversation, hurried from the room just in time to meet the footman in the corridor. It was, as the banker supposed, a request that Mr. Stocmar would favor her with “one minute” at the door. She lifted her veil as he came up to the window of the carriage, and in her sweetest of accents said,-- “Can you take a turn with me? I want to speak to you.” He was speedily beside her; and away they drove, the coachman having received orders to make one turn of the Cascine, and back to the hotel. “I'm deep in affairs this morning, my dear Mr. Stocmar,” began she, as they drove rapidly along, “and have to bespeak your kind aid to befriend me. You have not seen Clara yet, and consequently are unable to pronounce upon her merits in any way, but events have occurred which require that she should be immediately provided for. Could you, by any possibility, assume the charge of her to-day,--this evening? I mean, so far as to convey her to Milan, and place her at the Conservatoire.”