"Sixty thousand dollars," she continued. "Van Horn tells me that,
as yet, the firm of Uxbridge Brothers have only an income--no
capital."

"It is true," he answered, musingly.

The clock on the mantle struck two.

"A thousand dollars for every year of my life," she said. "You
and I, Uxbridge, know the value and beauty of money.

"Yes, there is beauty in money, and"--looking at me--"beauty
without it."

"The striking of the clock," I soliloquized, "proves that this
scene is not a phantasm."

"Margaret is fatigued," he said, rising. "May I come to-morrow?"


"It is my part only," replied Aunt Eliza, "to see that she is,
or is not, Cinderella."

"If you have ever thought of me, aunt, as an individual, you must
have seen that I am not averse to ashes."

He held my hand a moment, and then kissed me with a kiss of
appropriation.

"He is in love with you," she said, after he had gone. "I think