ad been compelled to resort to it, without being any the less
respected. Almost every one to whom the matter was referred spoke in favor
of the thing, and but a single individual suggested difficulty; but what he
said was not permitted to have much weight. This individual was a brother
of the widow, who had always been looked upon as rather eccentric. He was a
bachelor, and without fortune, merely enjoying a moderate income as
book-keeper in the office of an insurance company.

But more of him hereafter.

* * * *

CHAPTER II.

Mrs. Darlington, the widow we have just introduced to the reader, had five
children. Edith, the oldest daughter, was twenty-two years of age at the
time of her father's death; and Henry, the oldest son, just twenty. Next to
Henry was Miriam, eighteen years old. The ages of the two youngest
children, Ellen and Edward, were ten and eight.

Mr. Darlington, while living, was a lawyer of distinguished ability, and
his talents and reputation at the Philadelphia bar enabled him to
accumulate a handsome fortune. Upon this he had lived for some years in a
style of great elegance. About a year before his death, he had been induced
to enter into some speculation that promised great results. But he found,
when too late to retreat, that he had been greatly deceived. Heavy losses
soon followed. In a struggle to recover himself, he became still further
involved; and, ere the expiration of a twelve-month, saw everything falling
from under him. The trouble brought on by this was the real cause of his
death, which was sudden, and resulted from inflammation and congestion of
the brain.

Henry Darlington, the oldest son, was a young man of promising talents. He
remained at college until a few months before his father's death, when he
returned home, and commenced the study of law, in which he felt ambitious
to distinguish himself.

Edith, the oldest daughter, possessed a fine mind, which had been well
educated. She had some false views of life, natural to her position; but,
apart from this, was a girl of sound sense and great force of character.
Thus far in life, she had not encountered circumstances of a nature
calculated to develop what was in her. The time for that, however, was
approaching. Miriam, her sifter, was a quiet, gentle, retiring, almost
timid girl. She went into company with reluctance, and then always shrunk
as far from observation as it was possible to get. But, like mo