e a dishonorable bankrupt, who cares not how much others may suffer,
provided his future is secured. I will not, however, suffer the name
which I have borne against my will, to be defamed and become a mark for
scorn. I will compel you to remain an honest man, and be just to
your creditors. I propose to pay the bills of exchange, which will be
presented to you to-day, provided you will consent to my conditions."

"Oh, Marie, you are an angel!" he cried, rushing toward her and kneeling
at her feet, "I will do all that you wish, and consent to every thing
you propose."

"Will you swear it?" she coldly replied.

"I swear that I accept your conditions."

"Bring the writing-materials from the window-niche, and seat yourself by
this table."

Ebenstreit brought them, and seated himself by the Florentine mosaic
table, near which Marie was standing.

She drew from her pocket a paper, which she unfolded and placed before
him to sign. "Sign this with your full name, and add, 'With my own free
will and consent,'" she commandingly ordered him.

"But you will first make known to me the contents?"

"You have sworn to sign it," she said, "and unless you accept my
conditions, you are welcome to be incarcerated for life in the debtor's
prison. You have only to choose. If you decide in the negative, I will
exert myself that your creditors do not free you. I should trust in the
justice of God having sent you there, and that man in miserable pity
should not act against His will in freeing you. Now decide; will you
sign the paper, or go to prison as a dishonorable bankrupt?"

He hastily seized the pen and wrote his name, handing the paper to
Marie, sighing.

"You have forgotten to add the clause, 'With my own free will and
consent,'" she replied, hastily glancing at it, letting the paper drop
like a wilted leaf, and her eyes flashing with scorn.

Ebenstreit saw it, and as he again handed her the paper, he exclaimed,
"I read in your eyes the intense hate you bear me."

"Yes," she replied, composedly, "not only hate, but scorn. Hush! no
response. You knew it long before I was forced to stand at the altar
with you. I warned you not to unite yourself to me, and you had the
impious audacity to defy me with your riches. The seed of hate which you
then sowed, you may to-day reap the fruits of. You shall recognize now
that money is miserable trash, and that when deprived of it you will
never win sympathy from your so-called friends, but