Knowing nothing about business, I shall not attempt to explain the particulars. Coincident failures amongst his correspondents had contributed to his fall. Judy said he had not been like himself for months; but it was only the night before that he had told her they must give up their house in Bolivar Square, and take a small one in the suburbs. For any thing he could see, he said, he must look out for a situation. "Still you may be happier than ever, Judy. I can tell you that happiness does not depend on riches," I said, though I could not help crying with her. "It's a different thing though, after you've been used to them," she answered. "But the question is of bread for my children, not of putting down my carriage." She rose hurriedly. "Where are you going? Is there any thing I can do for you?" I asked. "Nothing," she answered. "I left my husband at Mr. Baddeley's. He is as rich as Croesus, and could write him a check that would float him." "He's too rich to be generous, I'm afraid," I said. "What do you mean by that?" she asked. "If he be so generous, how does it come that he is so rich?" "Why, his father made the money." "Then he most likely takes after his father. Percivale says he does not believe a huge fortune was ever made of nothing, without such pinching of one's self and such scraping of others, or else such speculation, as is essentially dishonorable." "He stands high," murmured Judy hopelessly. "Whether what is dishonorable be also disreputable depends on how many there are of his own sort in the society in which he moves." "Now, coz, you know nothing to his discredit, and he's our last hope." "I will say no more," I answered. "I hope I may be quite wrong. Only I should expect nothing of _him_." When she reached Mr. Baddeley's her husband was gone. Having driven to his counting-house, and been shown into his private room, she found him there with his head between his hands. The great man had declined doing any thing for him, and had even rebuked him for his imprudence, without wasting a thought on the fact that every penny he himself possessed was the result of the boldest speculation on the part of his father. A very few days only would elapse before the falling due of certain bills must at once disclose the state of his affairs. As soon as she had left me, Percivale not being at home, I put on my bonnet, and went to find Marion. I must tell _her_ every thing that caused me either joy or sorrow; and besides, she had all the right that love could give to know of Judy's distress. I knew all her engagements, and therefore where to find her; and sent in my card, with the pencilled intimation that I would wait the close of her lesson. In a few minutes she came out and got into the cab. At once I told her my sad news. "Could you take me to Cambridge Square to my next engagement?" she said.