union all the
more repugnant; but she was incapable of feeling that she would do him
a wrong by giving him the pretty jewelled hand for which so many had
asked. Indeed, the question now was, Could she be so self-sacrificing
as to think of it under the circumstances? If that stock would only
rise, if in some way she could be assured that the Muirs would be
sustained, and so pass on to the wealth sure to flow in upon them in
prosperous times, she would decide the question at once, whether they
would do anything for her father or not. He could scramble on in
some way, as he had done in the past. What she desired most was the
assurance that there should be no long and doubtful interregnum
of poverty and privation--that she might continue to be a queen in
society during the period of youth and beauty.

This remained the chief consideration amid the chaos of her
conflicting feelings and interests, for she had lived this life so
long that she could imagine no other as endurable. She had, moreover,
the persistence of a small nature, and longed to humiliate the Muir
pride, and to spite Madge Alden, who she half believed cherished more
than a sisterly regard for Graydon. As for her father, she did little
more than resent his words and the humiliating disquietude they had
caused. They had sorely wounded her vanity, and presented a painful
alternative.

As the day passed, and old habits of mind resumed sway, she began to
concentrate her thoughts on three questions: Should she accept Graydon
and take her chances with him? Should she accept Mr. Arnault, with his
wealth, and be safe? or should she hesitate a little longer, in the
hope that she could secure Graydon and wealth also? The persistence
of a will that had always had its own way decided finally in favor of
the last course of action. She would not give Graydon up unless she
must, and not until she must. Accustomed to consult self-interest,
she believed that her father was doing the same, that he was favoring
Arnault because the latter would be more useful to him, and that for
this reason he was exaggerating the Muirs' peril, if not inventing
it. She dismissed his words about leaving Wall Street with scarcely a
thought; he always talked in this way when the times were bad or his
ventures unlucky. They had been on the eve of ruin so many times, that
the cry of "wolf" was not so alarming as formerly.

"I suppose I must decide before this week is over," she thought.
"Arnault h