ends meet. The property in Fortieth Street was her only
possession. But little money had come to her at her husband's
death, and an unfortunate speculation of his had swept away all
that had fallen to her from her father, the late Judge
Merriweather. For years she kept the old home unencumbered,
teaching French and English until Margaret was well in her teens.
The girl was sent to one of the good old boarding-schools on the
Hudson and came out well prepared to help her mother in the battle
to keep the wolf down and appearances up. Margaret was rich in
friendships; and pride alone stood between her and the advantages
they offered. Good-looking, bright, and cheerful, she knew no
natural privations. With a heart as light and joyous as a May
morning, she faced adversity as though it was a pleasure, and no
one would have suspected that even for a moment her courage
wavered.

Now that Brewster had come into his splendid fortune he could
conceive no greater delight than to share it with them. To walk
into the little drawing-room and serenely lay large sums before
them as their own seemed such a natural proceeding that he refused
to see an obstacle. But he knew it was there; the proffer of such
a gift to Mrs. Gray would mean a wound to the pride inherited from
haughty generations of men sufficient unto themselves. There was a
small but troublesome mortgage on the house, a matter of two or
three thousand dollars, and Brewster tried to evolve a plan by
which he could assume the burden without giving deep and lasting
offense. A hundred wild designs had come to him, but they were
quickly relegated to the growing heap of subterfuges and pretexts
condemned by his tenderness for the pride of these two women who
meant so much to him.