to comprehend it. He did not know how quickly all people feel an
atmosphere of withdrawal, an air of indifference. If Stephen had been rich
and powerful, the world would have forgiven him these traits, or have
smothered its dislike of them; but in a poor man, and an obscure one, such
"airs" were not to be tolerated. Nobody would live in the "wing." And so
it came to pass that one day Stephen wrote to Mercy the following
letter:--

"You will be sorry to hear that I have had to foreclose the mortgage on
this house. It was impossible to get a tenant for the other half of it,
and there was nothing else to be done. The house must be sold, but I doubt
if it brings the full amount of the loan. I should have done this three
months ago, except for your strong feeling against it. I am very sorry for
old Mrs. Jacobs; but it is her misfortune, not my fault. I have my mother
to provide for, and my first duty is to her. Of course, Mrs. Jacobs will
now have to go to the alms-house but I am not at all sure that she will
not be more comfortable there than she has made herself in the cottage.
She has starved herself all these years. Some people say she must have a
hoard of money there somewhere, that she cannot have spent even the little
she has received.

"I shall move out of the house at once, into the little cottage you liked
so much, farther up on the hill. That is for rent, only fifty dollars a
year. I shall put this house into good repair, run a piazza around it as
you suggested, and paint it; and then I think I shall be sure of finding a
purchaser. It can be made a very pretty house by expending a little money
on it; and I can sell it for enough more to repay me. I am sure nobody
would buy it as it is."

Mercy replied very briefly to this part of Stephen's letter. She had
discussed the question with him often before, and she knew the strict
justice of his claim; but her heart ached for the poor friendless old
woman, who was thus to lose her last dollar. If it had been possible for
Mercy to have continued to pay the rent of the wing herself, she would
gladly have done so; but, at her suggestion of such a thing, Stephen had
been so angry that she had been almost frightened.

"I am not so poor yet, Mercy," he had exclaimed, "as to take charity from
you! I think I should go to the alms-house myself first. I don't see why
old Granny Jacobs is so much to you, any way."

"Only because she is so absolutely friendless, Stephen," Mercy