ems to me you need one. What is the matter with your
cousin?"

"He is in debt."

"No doubt! But what is the special fitness of your paying his debts?"

"He has told me all his story; I am very sorry for him."

"So am I! But I hope he will give you back your money."

"Certainly he will; as soon as he can."

"When will that be?"

"When he has finished his great picture."

"My dear young lady, confound his great picture! Where is this desperate
cousin?"

She certainly hesitated now. Then,--"At his dinner," she answered.

I turned about and looked through the open door into the _salle a
manger_. There, alone at the end of a long table, I perceived the object
of Miss Spencer's compassion, the bright young art-student. He was
dining too attentively to notice me at first; but in the act of setting
down a well-emptied wineglass he caught sight of my observant attitude.
He paused in his repast, and, with his head on one side and his meagre
jaws slowly moving, fixedly returned my gaze. Then the landlady came
lightly brushing by with her pyramid of apricots.

"And that nice little plate of fruit is for him?" I exclaimed.

Miss Spencer glanced at it tenderly. "They do that so prettily!" she
murmured.

I felt helpless and irritated. "Come now, really," I said; "do you
approve of that long strong fellow accepting your funds?" She looked
away from me; I was evidently giving her pain. The case was hopeless;
the long strong fellow had "interested" her.

"Excuse me if I speak of him so unceremoniously," I said. "But you are
really too generous, and he is not quite delicate enough. He made his
debts himself; he ought to pay them himself."

"He has been foolish," she answered; "I know that He has told me
everything. We had a long talk this morning; the poor fellow threw
himself upon my charity. He has signed notes to a large amount."

"The more fool he!"

"He is in extreme distress; and it is not only himself. It is his poor
wife."

"Ah, he has a poor wife?"

"I didn't know it; but he confessed everything. He married two years
since, secretly."

"Why secretly?"

Caroline Spencer glanced about her, as if she feared listeners. Then
softly, in a little impressive tone,--"She was a countess!"

"Are you very sure of that?"

"She has written me a most beautiful letter."

"Asking you for money, eh?"

"Asking me for confidence and sympathy," said Miss Spencer. "She has
been disinherited by her father. My cousin to