"My dear, it is too complicated a matter for a girl like you to understand. You must know that to discuss such a matter with me in this time of sorrow is little less than cruel." "Cruel? Isn't it cruel to me, too? Isn't his honor as dear to me as to his mother? I tell you, I won't rest until he is set right before the world. Where is Mr. Swinton? He is a man, and can make a public denial on behalf of his son. Surely, he's not going to sit quiet, and let Mr. Ormsby--" "It is not Mr. Ormsby--it is his grandfather who repudiates the checks, Dora. Don't you think that you are best advised by me, his mother? Do you think I didn't love Dick? Do you think that, if there were any way of refuting the charges, I should be silent? His father knows that it is useless. You will serve Dick best by burying your love in your heart, and saying as little as possible. He died the death of a hero; and as a hero he will be remembered by us, not by his follies. And, after all, what was the tricking of his grandfather out of a few thousands that were really his own? It was a family matter, which should never have been made public at all." "That's what I told father," faltered Dora. "The best thing you can do, Dora, is to mollify Mr. Ormsby. Don't anger him. Don't urge him on to blacken Dick's memory, as he is sure to do if you don't look more kindly upon his suit. He expects to marry you. He told me so when I met him at dinner at the Bents'. Your father wishes it, and, if Dick could speak now, he would wish it, too--that you would do everything in your power to close the lips of his rival. Ormsby is a splendid match for a girl like you, an eldest son, and immensely wealthy. He worships you, and is a stronger man altogether than poor Dick, who was weak, like his mother. What am I saying--what am I saying? My sense of right and wrong is dulled. Help me. Bring me that chair. Oh! I'm a very wretched woman, Dora!" cried the unhappy mother, sinking into the chair Dora brought forward. "Take warning by me. Love with your head and not your heart, Dora. Don't risk everything for a foolish girl's passion, when a rich man offers you a proud position." "I shall never marry Vivian Ormsby," said Dora, scornfully, "I shall never marry anybody. Oh, Dick!--I am his. And you, Mrs. Swinton--I thought one day to call you mother. Yet, you talk like this to me, as though Dick were unworthy--you whom he idolized." "Don't taunt me, Dora!" moaned the wretched mother. "I shall always be fond of you for Dick's sake. Good-bye--and forgive me." Mrs. Swinton tottered from the room with arms extended, a pitiable figure; and Dora stood alone, crestfallen, and faced with the inevitable. Her idol was thrown down. Yet, what did it matter that his feet were clay? She stood where Mrs. Swinton had left her, rooted to the spot as if unable to move. This room was in Dick's home, and shadowed by remembrances of him.