ch intimacy since, but a little, in spite of the difference in our
circumstances. Mary is a dear, good soul, and not a bit proud, though
the family are proud as Lucifer. Well, she used to come here once in
awhile, and she made me come over there, though I always felt out of
place in the big house. She was as gay and merry, then, as could be, and
seemed always happy and light-hearted. She used to think a great deal of
Mother, apparently; and once, two years ago, when Mother was very sick,
she came down two or three times a day and brought her everything nice
that she could think of. Lately she has not come here at all, and as she
is richer than I, I am too proud to put myself in her way."

"Did nothing occur between you, to make any change in her behavior
towards you?" asked the female lawyer.

"Nothing at all," answered little Susy. "I suppose that some of her fine
acquaintances told her that she must not visit people poorer than
herself, and that may have made the difference."

"But this is not the 'trouble' you spoke of, is it?" asked the young
girl, who did not by any means intend to allow the cross-examination to
fall through at this point.

"Oh, not at all," said the unsuspicious Susan. "I was coming to that
directly. There was a cousin of Mary's, Richard, from New York, who used
to come up here very often. I sometimes saw them together, and then it
was that she looked so gay and happy. I am sure that they loved each
other, and every one thought that some day they would be married. Of
course I have never heard any of these things from _her_, and perhaps I
ought not to talk about them; but you know such things will creep out.
Well, Richard Crawford does not come up here any more. They say that he
has been leading a dreadful life, drinking and going into bad places,
until he is all broken down and a miserable cripple. There is another
cousin, a Colonel, who comes up here now, and he and Mary go out
together sometimes. The Crawfords are notorious for trying to keep all
their property in the family; and so, as the other has proved so bad,
probably _this_ cousin and Mary may be married. But she looks like a
ghost when I meet her, at church or when she is riding out; and I know
that she is unhappy. Perhaps she loves the poor young man still, bad as
he is. Don't you think that is possible, cousin Joe? And may that not be
what ails her?"

"Why yes, you dear little soul, I should think very likely!" said the
city girl,