h her child to sacrifice the truth and integrity of her
soul, by accepting the hand of one for whom she has no respect."

"By Heaven!" said Barclay passionately, "you force me to throw away
the scabbard and declare war to the knife. Be it so, then. Yonder weak
boy cannot survive five of the ten days yet required to complete his
majority. Then comes to me--yes to _me_--all his wealth; and only as
_my_ wife shall one ray of my prosperity shine upon you. The gray
hairs of your only parent may be brought to the grave by want and
sorrow, and unless you relent toward me my heart shall be steeled to
her sufferings."

At this picture, which was only too likely to be realized, the courage
of the unhappy Edith forsook her, and she exclaimed in faltering
tones--

"My dear, dear mother! for her sake any other sacrifice might be
borne--but not this--not this. My brother yet lives, and Heaven may in
pity prolong his existence beyond the hour he so anxiously prays to
see. Then we escape your power."

Barclay laughed mockingly.

"This is the fifteenth, and he is not of age until the twenty-fifth,
exactly at the second hour of the morning. One moment only before that
time should Death claim his victim the estate is mine, and you
dependent on my bounty. Think you that the frail and wasted ghost of a
man who struggles for breath in yonder room can live through another
week? Hope--yes, hope for the best, for despair will come soon enough.
I feel as secure of my inheritance as though it were already mine."

Edith proudly motioned him from her path, and fled toward the house,
with his mocking words still ringing in her ears. Her brother yet
slept, and as she gazed upon his sunken features it seemed to her as
if death were already stamped upon them, and she bent her head above
his still face, to convince herself that he yet breathed.

Barclay and Euston were distantly related, and had both been educated
by an eccentric kinsman, with the belief among their connections that
he designed dividing his ample fortune between them. To the surprise
and chagrin of Barclay, he found on the death of Colonel Euston that
the whole of his estate was bequeathed to his young cousin, encumbered
with an annuity to himself, which appeared to one of his expensive
tastes, and lavish prodigality, as absolute poverty.

Edgar Euston was then but seventeen years of age, and of a delicate
bodily organization, which did not promise length of days. A clause in