cold-blooded offer
of an advance of cash without security--in practice a gift--would be
received.

"Have you anything definite in your mind?" he hesitated, timidly.

The Colonel reflected. On his part he was wondering how Porson would
receive the suggestion of a substantial loan. It seemed too much
to risk. He was proud, and did not like to lay himself open to the
possibility of rebuff.

"I think not, John. Unless Morris should chance to make a good marriage,
which is unlikely, for, as you know, he is an odd fish, I can see
nothing before us except ruin. Indeed, at my age, it does not greatly
matter, but it seems a pity that the old house should come to an end in
such a melancholy and discreditable fashion."

"A pity! It is more than a pity," jerked out Porson, with a sudden
wriggle which caused him to rock up and down upon the stiff springs of
the new sofa.

As he spoke there came a knock at the door, and from the further side of
it a slow, rich voice was heard, saying: "May I come in?"

"That's Mary," said Mr. Porson. "Yes, come in, dear; it's only your
uncle."

The door opened, Mary came in, and, in some curious quiet way, at once
her personality seemed to take possession of and dominate that shaded
room. To begin with, her stature gave an idea of dominion, for, without
being at all coarse, she was tall and full in frame. The face also was
somewhat massive, with a rounded chin and large, blue eyes that had a
trick of looking half asleep, and above a low, broad forehead grew her
waving, golden hair, parted simply in the middle after the old Greek
fashion. She wore a white dress, with a silver girdle that set off the
beautiful outlines of her figure to great advantage, and with her a
perfume seemed to pass, perhaps from the roses on her bosom.

"A beautiful woman," thought the Colonel to himself, as she came in, and
he was no mean or inexperienced judge. "A beautiful woman, but a regular
lotus-eater."

"How do you do, Uncle Richard?" said Mary, pausing about six feet away
and holding out her hand. "I heard you scolding my poor dad about his
bow-window. In fact, you woke me up; and, do you know, you used exactly
the same words as you did at your visit after we came down from London
last year."

"Bless me, my dear," said the Colonel, struggling to his feet, and
kissing his niece upon the forehead, "what a memory you have got! It
will get you into trouble some day."

"I daresay--me, or somebody else. But h