s face appealed so strongly to his sympathy that
the tears forced themselves from his eyes, try however bravely he would
to restrain them. The doors were closed, and all business with the house
of Richard Goldwin was at an end.

Mr. Goldwin bore the misfortune like a hero. His face was white and firm
as marble. Certain lines, however, told his distress, but never a word
of complaint at the miserable treachery of Breakwell & Co. escaped his
lips.

Herbert could not help thinking how severe the shock would be to Mrs.
Goldwin and Ray, who could not bridle their emotions with an iron will
like that of the ruined banker. The latter was accustomed, in his long
career in Wall Street, to seeing others meet the disaster that had now
overtaken him; but his wife and daughter--ah, how little they were
prepared for such a shock.

The panic that ruined so many men added quite largely to the fortunes
of young Bob Hunter. He had never before had such a trade. Papers sold
beyond all imagination, and at double their usual price. The result was
a profit of seven dollars and forty seven cents for his day's work. He
felt richer than ever before in his life, and so happy that he could
hardly wait till the usual time for Herbert to join him, he wanted so
much to make known his grand success. But when young Randolph came to
him with the sad story of that day in Wall Street, his happiness gave
place to a feeling of unusual sadness, and the sadness deepened on
learning that his friend was now out of a position.

"But you can get another place, Herbert," said he, reassuringly;
"perhaps a better one than you have lost."

"I hope so," was all the reply the young bank clerk made, but there was
a world of expression in the way he said it. His face, too, looked the
disappointment and sorrow he felt, and Bob rightly divined that the
sorrow was more for Mr. Goldwin and his family than for himself.

It is safe to presume that Herbert thought long and regretfully of
the probability of Mr. Goldwin being reduced to a state of poverty--of
his being turned out of his luxurious home--of Ray, his daughter,
being obliged to work for her living--of her young, sweet life being
embittered by want and miserable surroundings, so out of keeping with
her beauty and genial, sunny nature. And if he did think in this wise,
what resolutions he formed for relieving her of such a life, and of
restoring her to her proper place we can only imagine, for on this
matter he