do without them, too. I'll turn over a
new leaf, and be economical. We'll have no holiday, no new things, the
bills for the new furniture are all paid--we need nothing more. Don't
grieve so, dear. I'll help you. I _will_ help!"

Robert stretched out his arms and folded her close to his heart. The
dazed expression was beginning to give way to a yearning tenderness.
Jean had yet to be enlightened as to the full extent of the calamity.
He must brace himself to the task of explanation.

"Jean, it is not an ordinary bank--it's unlimited; that was why your
father disapproved. But I thought I knew best--I stuck to my own way.
If I could bear the consequences alone I wouldn't grumble; it's for you,
and the children. I have only five shares, but I'm responsible, to my
last penny. They can clean me out of everything I possess, can sell our
furniture above our heads--every stick in the house, leave us without a
bed. And they'll do it. The calls will be enormous--must be enormous.
I've ruined you, Jean, by my self-willed folly."

Jean lifted her lips and kissed him softly on the cheek. She felt faint
and limp, as though suddenly overpowered by fatigue; but the predominant
feeling was still that Robert was in trouble, that he was appealing to
her for strength, that whatever trials were to come, she must not fail
him now.

"You've given me everything worth having. All the riches in the world
couldn't give me happiness without you. If the money goes, we'll have
to love each other more, and no bank, no bank, can touch that.
Robert!"--her voice broke on a note of exquisite tenderness--"remember
what you called me that first day--remember the prophecy! If fortune
has gone, you have still your treasure!"

And Robert, blessing her, shedding tears of mingled joy and sorrow,
declared that he was rich indeed.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE FEET OF CLAY.

Time did nothing to soften the severity of the blow which had fallen
upon the shareholders of the Glasgow Bank; rather, with every day as it
passed did the situation become more hopeless and terrible.
Defalcations of three years' standing left a deficit so abysmal that
nothing short of the uttermost farthing could hope to fill it, and even
the enormous preliminary call spelt ruin to many small holders, of whom
Robert Gloucester was one. When every copper which he possessed had
been realised, he was still far behind the amount demanded, and a bill
of sale was issued