into the vault, his stock in Wall Street was also going down with a
run.

In brief, in the absence of the master's hand, and by reason of his
embarrassments, there were general wreck and ruin in his affairs; and
Mrs. Allen was soon compelled to face the fact, even more awful to her
than her husband's death, that not a penny remained of his colossal
fortune, and that she had yawningly signed away all of her own means.
But she could only wring her hands in view of these blighting truths,
and indulge in half-uttered complaints against her husband's "folly,"
as she termed it. From the first her grief had been more emotional
than deep, and her mind, recovering in part its usual poise, had begun
to be much occupied with preparations for a grand funeral, which was
carried out to her taste. Then arose deeply interesting questions as
to various styles of mourning costume, and an exciting vista of
dressmaking opened before her. She was growing into quite a serene and
hopeful frame when the miserable and blighting facts all broke upon
her. When there was little of seeming necessity to do, and there were
multitudes to do for her, Mrs. Allen's nerves permitted no small
degree of activity. But now, as it became certain that she and her
daughters must do all themselves, her hands grew helpless. The idea of
being poor was to her like dying. It was entering on an experience so
utterly foreign and unknown that it seemed like going to another world
and phase of existence, and she shrank in pitiable dread from it.

Laura had all her mother's helpless shrinking from poverty, but with
another and even bitterer ingredient added. Mr. Goulden was extremely
polite, exquisitely sympathetic, and in terms as vague as elegantly
expressed had offered to do anything (but nothing in particular) in
his power to show his regard for the family and his esteem for his