oad in which Mrs. Lenox had invested was a
prosperous one, and occasionally declared an additional stock dividend:
it was on these occasions that the reduced lady lost in a degree her
usual air of picturesque gloom--that she roused herself to talk about
her family and the glories of her youth, the eclat and brilliance of her
position, which she had never lost until after marrying her unfortunate
husband; and at such times she even regained her courage and made a
round of visits, dropping glazed and ancient cards, and retaining in her
feebleness all the traditions of her majesty. But this epoch of her
revived grandeur was set in painful contrast to poor Lenox's misery. He
was commissioned to sell the scrip, which, for him, had no existence,
and thus raise money to deck the family in transient brightness. I fancy
that at such times, without any waste of rhetoric or balancing of
expediencies, he was more in love with suicide than Hamlet or Cato, and
that if it had not been for the sympathy and aid of a golden-haired
little girl he would have swallowed his death-potion quietly. Georgy was
his firm ally against her mother, and helped him shrewdly in many a
close pinch; and his rich uncle, Mr. Raymond (Mr. Floyd's
father-in-law), rarely refused him provisional aid upon his application,
although he was wise enough to decline helping him in any of his
fantastic kite speculations.

"And what sort of a girl is this Miss Georgy?" inquired Mr. Floyd. "Has
she been injured at all by the somewhat exceptional circumstances of her
family?"

"Oh no, sir."

"Is she gentle, generous and open in her ways?"

"Gentle, sir--generous?"

"She is remarkably pretty."

I assented eagerly to this observation, and he laughed: "There is no
doubt in your mind upon that point. If she were in all respects a
suitable companion for Helen, I would request that she should be invited
to The Headlands. But Tony will find out what she is made of. He will be
a new friend for you."

And he told me about this Antonio Thorpe, who had been under his
guardianship for six years. He was the son of an Englishman who had
married a Spanish girl in the West Indies: the lad was but twelve years
old when he was thrown upon the world without parents or near relatives
or suitable provision for his maintenance. The elder Thorpe had been a
careless, good-natured person, without any distrust of his fellows, and
not knowing what to do with his son had thrust him upon Mr.