so green and gay, Franz's dream was rudely broken--broken by a Mr. James
Barker Clarke, a blustering, vulgar man of fifty, worth _three
millions_. In some way or other he seemed to have a great deal of
influence over Mr. Stromberg, who paid him unqualified respect, and over
Mrs. Stromberg, who seemed to fear him.

Mr. Stromberg's "private ledger" alone knew the whole secret; for of
course money was at the foundation. Indeed, in these days, in all public
and private troubles, it is proper to ask, not "Who is she?" but "How
much is it?" Franz Müller and James Barker Clarke hated each other on
sight. Still Franz had no idea at first that this ugly, uncouth man
could ever be a rival to his own handsome person and passionate
affection.

In a few days, however, he was compelled to actually consider the
possibility of such a thing. Mr. Stromberg had assumed an attitude of
such extreme politeness, and Mrs. Stromberg avoided him if possible, and
if not possible, was constrained and unhappy in the familiar relations
that she had accepted so happily all summer. As for Christine, she had
constant headaches, and her eyes were often swollen and red with
weeping.

At length, without notice, the family left Newport, and went to stay a
month with some relative near Boston. A pitiful little note from
Christine informed him of this fact; but as he received no information
as to the locality of her relative's house, and no invitation to call,
he was compelled for the present to do as Christine asked him--wait
patiently for their return.

At first he got a few short tender notes, but they were evidently