Louie had been buffeted by the wind and drenched with the rain. The stairs were long, and she was breathless with climbing them and with excitement. Her heart was beating rapidly, her tongue felt thick, and for a moment she could not speak. Turning back her hood and undoing her cloak, which seemed to be choking her, she threw it off with such force that the drops of water upon it were shaken over the man who had brought her a chair and stood close to her. He was their nearest neighbor, who had sat often at their table and shared their hospitality, and “et tu Brute” came to Louie’s mind, as she looked up at him. Drawing two or three long breaths, she said: “I heard you were to meet to-night, to see what you would do with my father. Is that so?” She turned to Mr. Sheldon, who answered: “That’s about the size of it, but we didn’t expect you.” “No,” and her lips quivered. “But, you see, I had to come; there was no one else,” and her voice shook a little as she thought of Herbert, who was still sitting on the dry-goods box and cursing himself for a coward. “Did your father send you?” Mr. Sheldon asked, and Louie’s voice was very steady as she replied: “My father? No. He knows nothing of the meeting. He does not know me all the time. Haven’t you heard how bad he is?” There was no reply, and she went on: “He is completely crushed, and so sorry. Why, he is an old man in looks. I know he has done wrong, and I am so sorry, and mother is, too. Neither of us had any suspicion of the truth. If we had had, do you think we would have allowed so much expenditure? Never. I don’t know why he did it, but it is done, and I have come to ask you not to proceed against him; not to have him arrested, as I have heard you mean to do. It will do no good. It will not restore your money, and it cannot add to your happiness to know that my father, whom you have professed to like so much, is in prison. He may die,” here her voice broke, but she steadied herself and went on, “but, whether he lives or dies, his debts shall be paid. It will take time—years, maybe—but I am young, only eighteen, and I know how I can pay them. I have thought it all out, and feel sure I can do it.” “Have you an idee how much they be?” Godfrey Sheldon asked. “Yes,” she replied; “but, much or little, if God spares my life, I’ll pay them. Believe me, I will. Our house is for sale, with the horses and carriage and diamonds. The piano is sold, and my wheel, and with part of the money they brought I have paid some of the smaller debts. We shall give up everything, and we shall take a small, cheap house by and by; but I want father to stay where he is till he is better, or worse, and perhaps you won’t mind if we keep enough to live on a while. We must have something.”