"The matter," said her husband, "is simply this—Mr. Merton leaves town to-night for Philadelphia, on special business, and having occasion for a large sum of money, requires the immediate payment of the ten thousand dollars which are due him for our violation of the marriage contract."
"Yes, madam," said Mr. Merton, "and I called on your husband for it, and he referred me to you as having the deposit in your possession."
"Wouldn't to-morrow do as well?" asked the lady anxiously.
"No, madam, my necessity is urgent."
"Go, Maria," said the broker, "and bring the money instantly. A debt like this admits of no postponement."
"Alas! alas!" stammered the poor woman, "I have not this money by me. Surely, Mr. Brandon, you must be able to command it."
"Not one dollar, madam," said the broker. "I would have spared you this explanation to-night, but you have brought it on yourself. This is our last night of factitious splendor—my affairs are in inextricable confusion—losses have this day come to light which complete my ruin—and to-morrow the world will know me as a bankrupt."
Mrs. Brandon wrung her hands and sobbed bitterly.
"But that is a grief for to-morrow," said the broker, sternly. "There is music and dancing, champagne and flowers, in the next room—enough glory for to-night. But this business of Mr. Merton's requires instant attention. What have you done with the ten thousand dollars? Have you dared to squander it?"
"No, no," said Mrs. Brandon earnestly. "I am not so bad as that. I deposited it with Sandford, the jeweller, of whom I hired the casket of jewels to deck myself to-night."