etter marriage than I. Oh, why was your father so
reckless? I warned him not to speculate in the rash way he was
accustomed to doing, but he would never take my advice. If he had, we
would not be as we are now." And again the poor lady was overcome with
her own sorrows.

It was not Mrs. Tremont's check that had bought the last Kumyss. In
fact, Mrs. Tremont, after the manner of rich relations, troubled her
head but little about her poor ones. Sanderson had sent no money for
nearly a month, and Anna would have died sooner than have asked for it.
He had been to Waltham twice to see Anna, and once she had gone to meet
him at the White Rose Tavern. Mrs. Moore, wrapped in gloom at the loss
of her own luxury, had no interest in the young man who came down from
Boston to call on her daughter.

"You met him at Cousin Frances's, did you say? I don't see how you can
ask him here to this abominable little house. A girl should have good
surroundings, Anna. Nothing detracts from a girl's beauty so much as
cheap surroundings. Oh, my dear, if you had only been settled in life
before all this happened, I would not complain." And, as usual, there
were more tears.

But the wailings of her mother, over departed luxuries, and the poverty
of her surroundings were the lightest of Anna's griefs. At their last
meeting--she had gone to him in response to his request--Sanderson's
manner had struck dumb terror into the heart of the girl who had
sacrificed so much at his bidding. She had been very pale. The strain
of facing the terrible position in which she found herself, coupled
with her own failing health, had robbed her of the beautiful color he
had always so frankly admired. Her eyes were big and hollow looking,
and the deep black circles about them only added to her unearthly
appearance. There were drawn lines of pain about the mouth, that
robbed the Cupid's bow of half its beauty.

"My God, Anna!" he had said to her impatiently. "A man might as well
try to love a corpse as a woman who looks like that." He led her over
to a mirror, that she might see her wasted charms. There was no need
for her to look. She knew well enough, what was reflected there.

"You have no right to let yourself get like this. The only thing a
woman has is her looks, and it is a crime if she throws them away
worrying and fretting."

"But Lennox," she answered, desperately, "I have told you how matters
stand with me, and mother knows nothing