s part and parcel of David Callendar. A look of care and
weariness was on his face, and his habits and hours lost all their
former regularity. It had once been possible to tell the time of day
by the return home of the two Callendars. Now no one could have done
that with David. He stayed out late at night; he stayed out all night
long. He told Isabel the mill needed him, and she either believed him
or pretended to do so.

So that after the first winter of her fashionable existence she
generally "entertained" alone. "Mr. Callendar had gone to Stirling, or
up to the Highlands to buy wool," or, "he was so busy money-making she
could not get him to recognize the claims of society." And society
cared not a pin's point whether he presided or not at the expensive
entertainments given in his name.

CHAPTER IV.

But things did not come to this pass all at once; few men take the
steps towards ruin so rapidly as to be themselves alarmed by it. It
was nearly seven years after his marriage when the fact that he was in
dangerously embarrassed circumstances forced itself suddenly on
David's mind. I say "suddenly" here, because the consummation of evil
that has been long preparing comes at last in a moment; a string
holding a picture gets weaker and weaker through weeks of tension, and
then breaks. A calamity through nights and days moves slowly towards
us step by step, and then some hour it has come. So it was with
David's business. It had often lately been in tight places, but
something had always happened to relieve him. One day, however, there
was absolutely no relief but in borrowing money, and David went to his
uncle again.

It was a painful thing for him to do; not that they had any quarrel,
though sometimes David thought a quarrel would be better than the
scant and almost sad intercourse their once tender love had fallen
into. By some strange mental sympathy, hardly sufficiently recognized
by us, John was thinking of his nephew when he entered. He greeted him
kindly, and pulled a chair close, so that David might sit beside him.
He listened sympathizingly to his cares, and looked mournfully into
the unhappy face so dear to him; then he took his bank-book and wrote
out a check for double the amount asked.

The young man was astonished; the tears sprang to his eyes, and he
said, "Uncle, this is very good of you. I wish I could tell you how
grateful I am."

"Davie, sit a moment, you dear lad. I hae a word to say to ye