his banking experience; it was true that he had got some sort of an opening, with two young men of sporting tastes whom he had met.
Preparations for departure were made. The furniture was being taken out, and stored or sold; and each piece, as it was carried down the stairs, brought a pang to Jamie's heart. The house was offered for sale; Jamie drew up the advertisement in tears. He did not venture to sit with them now of evenings; it was Jamie, of the three, who had the guilty feeling.
The evening before their going came. St. Clair was out at a farewell dinner, "tendered him," as he proudly announced, by his friends. Jamie, as he passed her door, heard Mercedes crying. He could not bear it; he went in.
"My darling, do not cry," the old man whispered. "Is it because you are going away? All I can do for you—all I have shall be yours!"
"What has David done? I know he has done something"—
"Nothing—nothing is wrong, dear; I assure you"—
"Then why are you so hard to him? Why will you not put the money in the business?"
