the matter that was so important to
himself. Mrs. Broughton had found it necessary during this meeting to
talk almost exclusively about herself and her own affairs. "Conway,"
she had said, directly she saw him, "I am so glad you have come. I
think I should have gone mad if I had not seen some one who cares for
me." This was early in the morning, not much after eleven, and Mrs
Broughton, hearing first his knock at the door, and then his voice,
had met him in the hall and taken him into the dining-room.

"Is anything the matter?" he asked.

"Oh, Conway!"

"What is it? Has anything gone wrong with Dobbs?"

"Everything has gone wrong with him. He is ruined."

"Heaven and earth! What do you mean?"

"Simply what I say. But you must not speak a word of it. I do not
know it from himself."

"How do you know it?"

"Wait a moment. Sit down there, will you?--and I will sit by you. No,
Conway; do not take my hand. It is not right. There;--so. Yesterday
Mrs. Van Siever was here. I need not tell you all that she said to
me, even if I could. She was very harsh and cruel, saying all manner
of things about Dobbs. How can I help it, if he drinks? I have not
encouraged him. And as for expensive living, I have been as ignorant
as a child. I have never asked for anything. When we were married
somebody told me how much we should have to spend. It was either two
thousand, or three thousand, or four thousand, or something like
that. You know, Conway, how ignorant I am about money;--that I am
like a child. Is it not true?" She waited for an answer and Dalrymple
was obliged to acknowledge that it was true. And yet he had known
the times in which his dear friend had been very sharp in her memory
with reference to a few pounds. "And now she says that Dobbs owes
her money which he cannot pay her, and that everything must be sold.
She says that Musselboro must have the business, and that Dobbs must
shift for himself elsewhere."

"Do you believe that she has the power to decide that things shall go
this way or that,--as she pleases?"

"How am I to know? She says so, and she says it is because he drinks.
He does drink. That at least is true; but how can I help it? Oh,
Conway, what am I to do? Dobbs did not come home at all last night,
but sent for his things,--saying that he must stay in the City. What
am I to do if they come and take the house, and sell the furniture,
and turn me out into the street?" Then the poor creature began to cry