"What! do I understand you aright? Peter Frenelle's farm, that fine
property which he left free of debt when he died?"

"Yes, it's only too true. You know there has been a heavy mortgage on it
for several years, and as the interest has not been paid for some time the
mortgage has been foreclosed, and the place is to be sold."

"Dear me, dear me," and the parson leaned back in his chair and closed his
eyes, as he always did when in deep thought. "It's bad management, that's
what it is. Stephen has had a splendid start, and through carelessness he
has let everything go to ruin."

"Father, don't blame Stephen too much. He's only young, and had a great
responsibility placed upon his shoulders after his father's death."

"Blame him! Blame him! Why should I blame anyone?" and the parson placed
his hand to his forehead. "Stephen is as dear to me as my own son--and I
love him. But, oh, it is hard to see my old friend's farm go to others. I
have talked with Stephen time and time again. But he has not taken the
right grip of life. Poor Mrs. Frenelle, her heart must be broken. And
Nora, that dear invalid girl, how hard for her."

Nellie made no reply to her father's words. She sat looking into the fire.
Tears were in her eyes and her heart was heavy. Everything had seemed so
bright but a short time before, and now this dark cloud had arisen. Oh, if
Stephen would only bestir himself. They had known each other from
childhood. He had always been her hero. As a child her day-dreams and
fancies were woven about him. And as years advanced their love for each
other had increased. It was the natural blending of two souls which had