lying back on the pillow it seemed a living death--this thing that had
come to her.

It was then that Margaret and Katherine constituted themselves a
veritable wall of defense between their mother and the world. Nothing
that was not inspected and approved by one or the other was allowed to
pass Mrs. Whitmore's chamber door.

For young women only seventeen and nineteen, whose greatest
responsibility hitherto had been the selection of a gown or a ribbon,
this was a new experience.

At first the question of expense did not enter into consideration.
Accustomed all their lives to luxury, they unhesitatingly demanded it
now; and doctors, nurses, wines, fruits, flowers, and delicacies were
summoned as a matter of course.

Then came the crash. The estate of the supposedly rich James Whitmore
was found to be deeply involved, and in the end there was only a
pittance for the widow and her two daughters.

Mrs. Whitmore was not told of this at once. She was so ill and helpless
that a more convenient season was awaited. That was nearly ten years
ago--and she had not been told yet.

Concealment had not been difficult at first. The girls had, indeed,
drifted into the deception almost unconsciously, as it certainly was not
necessary to burden the ears of the already sorely afflicted woman with
the petty details of the economy and retrenchment on the other side of
her door.