ature!"

"I can imagine nothing you should n't talk to me about," said Mary.

"You are not afraid?" he demanded, sharply, looking at her.

She turned away abruptly, with lowered eyes, hesitating a moment.
"Anything you think I should hear, I will hear," she said. And then she
returned to her place at the window and took up her work.

"I have had a great blow," said Roderick. "I was a great ass, but it
does n't make the blow any easier to bear."

"Mr. Mallet, tell me what Roderick means!" said Mrs. Hudson, who had
found her voice, in a tone more peremptory than Rowland had ever heard
her use.

"He ought to have told you before," said Roderick. "Really, Rowland,
if you will allow me to say so, you ought! You could have given a much
better account of all this than I myself; better, especially, in that
it would have been more lenient to me. You ought to have let them down
gently; it would have saved them a great deal of pain. But you always
want to keep things so smooth! Allow me to say that it 's very weak of
you."

"I hereby renounce such weakness!" said Rowland.

"Oh, what is it, sir; what is it?" groaned Mrs. Hudson, insistently.

"It 's what Roderick says: he 's a failure!"

Mary Garland, on hearing this declaration, gave Rowland a single glance
and then rose, laid down her work, and walked rapidly out of the room.
Mrs. Hudson tossed her head and timidly bristled. "This from you, Mr.
Mallet!" she said with an injured air which Rowland found harrowing.

But Roderick, most characteristically, did not in the least resent his
friend's assertion; he sent him, on the contrary, one of those large,
clear looks of his, which seemed to express a stoical pleasure in
Rowland's frankness, and which set his companion, then and there,
wondering again, as he had so often done before, at the extraordinary
contradictions of his temperament. "My dear mother," Roderick said, "if
you had had eyes that were not blinded by this sad maternal vanity, you
would have seen all this for yourself; you would have seen that I 'm
anything but prosperous."

"Is it anything about money?" cried Mrs. Hudson. "Oh, do write to Mr.
Striker!"

"Money?" said Roderick. "I have n't a cent of money; I 'm bankrupt!"

"Oh, Mr. Mallet, how could you let him?" asked Mrs. Hudson, terribly.

"Everything I have is at his service," said Rowland, feeling ill.

"Of course Mr. Mallet will help you, my son!" cried the poor lady,
eagerly.

"Oh, leave Mr.