s destroyed. For the most part they were in the library, the room
he specially claimed as his own. Before setting himself to the work
there he walked through some of the other rooms, turning out the lights.

In doing so he was consciously taking a farewell. He had been born in
this house; in it he had spent his boyhood; to it he had come back as a
young married man. He had lived in it till his wife and he had set up
their more ambitious establishment in Boston, an extravagance from
which, perhaps, all the subsequent misfortunes could be dated. He had
known at the time that his father, had he lived, would have condemned
the step; but he himself was a believer in fortunate chances. Besides,
it was preposterous for a young couple of fashion to continue living in
a rambling old house that belonged to neither town nor country, at a
time when the whole trend of life was cityward. They had discussed the
move, with its large increase of expenditure, from every point of view,
and found it one from which, in their social position, there was no
escape. It was a matter about which they had hardly any choice.

So, too, a few years later, with the taking of the cottage at Newport.
It was forced on them. When all their friends were doing something of
the sort it seemed absurd to hesitate because of a mere matter of
means--especially when by hook or by crook the means could be procured.
Similar reasoning had attended their various residences abroad--in
London, Paris, Rome. Country-houses in England or villas on the Riviera
became matters of necessity, according to the demands of Olivia's entry
into the world of fashion or Mrs. Guion's health.

It was not till the death of the latter, some seven years ago, that
Guion, obliged to pause, was able to take cognizance of the degree to
which he had imperiled himself in the years of effort to maintain their
way of life. It could not be said that at the time he regretted what he
had done, but he allowed it to frighten him into some ineffectual
economies. He exchanged the cottage at Newport for one at Lenox, and,
giving up the house in Boston, withdrew to Tory Hill. Ceasing himself to
go into society, he sent his daughter abroad for a large portion of her
time, either in the care of Madame de Melcourt or, in London, under the
wing of some of the American ladies prominent in English life.

Having taken these steps, with no small pride in his capacity for
sacrifice, Guion set himself seriously t