am not what may be called a rich man. Your
brother's tastes are expensive; and what with his education, and yours,
and the allowances I have made you both, it is as much as I have been
able to do to keep up our position. And there are your sisters to be
provided for. The idea of your falling in love with this young woman is
monstrous."

"Young lady, Father. She is a clergyman's daughter."

"I won't hear of such a thing--I will not hear of it for a moment; and
if you persist in this mad folly, I tell you, fairly, that from this
moment I shall have nothing more to say to you! You have to choose
between me, and this penniless beggar."

"I am sorry you put it in that way, sir. My choice is made. I am
engaged to this young lady, and shall certainly marry her. I trust
that, when your present anger has subsided, you will recognize that my
honour was involved in the matter; and that even if I wished it, I
could not, without showing myself to be a downright cad, draw back."

And so, Gregory Hartley married the girl of his choice. She had, for
some time, refused to allow him to sacrifice himself; but when she
found that he was as determined as his father, and absolutely refused
to release her from the engagement, she had given way; and had, after a
quiet marriage, accompanied him to London.

There he had endeavoured to get literary work, but had found it much
harder than he had expected. The market was overcrowded, and they had
moved from comfortable lodgings into small rooms; and so, step by step,
had come to the attic in Lupus Street. He was doing a little better
now, and had hopes that, ere long, he would begin to make his way
steadily up.

But the anxiety had told on his wife. Never very strong, she had
developed a short, hard cough; and he had drawn upon his scanty
reserves, to consult a specialist.

"There is undoubtedly lung trouble," the latter said. "If you can
manage it, I should say that she ought certainly to be taken to a warm
climate. The damage is not extensive, as yet; and it is probable that,
under favourable circumstances, she might shake it off; but I fear
that, if she continues to live in London, her chances are not great."

This, Gregory felt, was almost equivalent to a death sentence; and he
had begun to consult the advertisements in the papers, for some post
abroad. He had, unknown to her, applied for several situations, but
without success.

When he first read the advertisement that morning, he