tell it you in a few words. I am going to pass a part of my life in this
place, and I desire that all should know who I am and whence I come. To
begin, then. Poor! Yes, I have been, and very poor. Eight years ago my
father died, and was soon followed by my mother. I was then eighteen, and
Bettina nine. We were alone in the world, encumbered with heavy debts and
a great lawsuit. My father's last words had been, 'Susie, never, never
compromise. Millions, my children, you will have millions.' He embraced
us both; soon delirium seized him, and he died repeating, 'Millions;
millions!' The next morning a lawyer appeared, who offered to pay all our
debts, and to give us besides ten thousand dollars, if we would give up
all our claims. I refused. It was then that for several months we were
very poor."

"And it was then," said Bettina, "that I used to lay the cloth."

"I spent my life among the solicitors of New York, but no one would take
up my case; everywhere I received the same reply: 'Your cause is very
doubtful; you have rich and formidable adversaries; you need money, large
sums of money, to bring such a case to a conclusion, and you have
nothing. They offer to pay your debts, and to give you ten thousand
dollars besides. Accept it, and sell your case.' But my father's last
words rang in my ears, and I would not. Poverty, however, might soon have
forced me to, when one day I made another attempt on one of my father's
old friends, a banker in New York, Mr. William Scott. He was not alone; a
young man was sitting in his office.

"'You may speak freely,' said Mr. Scott; 'it is my son Richard.'

"I looked at the young man, he looked at me, and we recognized each
other.

"'Susie!'

"'Richard!"

"Formerly, as children, we had often played together and were great
friends. Seven or eight years before this meeting he had been sent to
Europe to finish his education. We shook hands; his father made me sit
down, and asked what had brought me. He listened to my tale; and replied:

"'You would require twenty or thirty thousand dollars. No one would lend
you such a sum upon the uncertain chances of a very complicated lawsuit.
If you are in difficulties; if you need assistance--'

"'It is not that, father. That is not what Miss Percival asks.'

"'I know that very well, but what she asks is impossible.'

"He rose to let me out. Then the sense of my helplessness overpowered me
for the first time since my father's death. I bur