, looked angry
and severe.

"Money, money, money! That is all your father thinks of from morning
until night. It is wearing on him too. It is killing him by inches."

"You are right, Aunt Agnes; he needs rest; he looks tired out," I said,
ignoring the first part of her speech.

"It is his own fault. And now he wants to educate you in the same
school. Lucretia Kingsley is correct,--oil and water are more fit to be
mated than you and Mr. Spence. You have broken her heart, too, by your
wanton conduct, Virginia. Her sympathy for Mr. Spence is very
affecting."

"Pooh!" I answered, angered by her indifference regarding my father;
"she is crazy to marry him herself. That is all the matter with her."

This was the last effort Aunt Agnes made to alter my resolution, but she
saw fit to tell Aunt Helen of my escapade at Mr. Barr's studio, who came
to me in horror. Her predictions were about to be realized, she said.
Notwithstanding all her warnings, my name was associated with a vulgar
adventurer. "A handsome wretch as I remember him," she added, "but--even
on your aunt's admission, who is none too nice in her estimate of
people--unprincipled, and with low agrarian tastes."

A fortnight after my dismissal of Mr. Spence, a misfortune befell me
that banished all thoughts save those of grief. My father was seized
with a sudden illness, and died within a few hours. The doctors said the
cause of his death was disease of the heart, and that he had been aware
of the existence of the disorder for some time. It was many days before
I thought again of what I was told after the funeral,--that I was left
by my father's will sole heiress to four million dollars.

BOOK III.

(UN)COMMON SENSE.

I.

My first impulse was to become a woman of business, and assume the
entire control of my inheritance. Excepting a few charitable bequests
and some trifling legacies, everything was left to me. I was even made
executrix; but my father had indicated in a separate paper that in
regard to matters out of my knowledge I could safely consult his own
legal adviser, Horatio Chelm.

Mr. Chelm was the conventional idea of a successful lawyer,--withered,
non-committal, and a little fusty; but technicalities had failed to
harden his heart or obscure his good sense. He had a sunny smile, which
refreshed my sad spirit when I called upon him shortly after the funeral
to inform him of my purpose, and made me feel that I could confide in
him.

"