And now every one looked at the exploded bubble in surprise, and cried angrily, "What has become of the money? Yesterday we were rich: where has it gone to? Six months ago we had twenty per cent dividend: why are these stocks worthless now? Why have railroads and shops and mills ceased to pay? What sudden blight has fallen over the world?" Alas! There had been no money. Sanguine credit had traded on the honor and faith and nobleness of man toward man, and, behold, it had all been selfishness and falsehood and dishonor. Truth and virtue had been scorned and flouted in the highway, because forsooth there was a more brilliant semblance. Like a garment had men wrapped themselves in it, and now it was but rags and tatters. There could be nothing extracted from the wreck of Hope Mills. Indeed, Fred would have given up a rich inheritance to save his father's honor, had it been his. To go on at Hope Terrace was madness. The fires and the servants would cost enough to maintain a family. Mrs. Minor and Fred quarrelled because Mrs. Lawrence had been persuaded to mortgage the place: she simply groaned and moaned, and wondered why they must worry her about every thing! "I hope Irene will have the good sense to marry abroad," said Mrs. Minor. "And, Fred, what a pity you haven't a profession! What can you do?" Last winter it had been, "my brother, De Woolfe," whom all the young ladies in Mrs. Minor's set were wild over. Fred gave a sigh. "I suppose I _can_ do something to earn my bread," he replied bitterly. "Fred," began Agatha suddenly, "there is that Miss Tillon. You know how absolutely wild she was over you last winter! Her fortune is all in her own right, and it is a solid one too. Hamilton has had occasion to know about it. You cannot do a better thing than marry her." Fred glanced up. His sister was in sober earnest. To be bargained off like a woman, for a bare existence! Miss Tillon was at least thirty, of a suspicious, jealous turn of mind, well-enough looking perhaps, but narrow, with no intellectual culture, no approval of any thing beside her money. He had been amused at her preference. Possibly she might marry him, and rescue him from the pains of poverty. And he? He might be vain and trifling, but he was not sunk so low in cowardice. His face flushed a vivid scarlet. "I am not quite prepared to become chargeable to a woman yet," he said in a cold, calm voice. "What nonsense! Some man will marry her, and get the money," Agatha retorted decisively. "Not much of hers;" in a dry, contemptuous tone. "You know what I mean. She will live in style, and travel; and her husband"-- "Will be the laughing-stock of his friends," interrupted Fred angrily. "No, Agatha, I will be dependent upon no one for my bread: if I cannot earn it I will starve."