"Arthur has—"
"Poor Arthur! true enough! how could I forget him; what was the matter, Wilkins? I have been so busy, you know."
"He has got into sad trouble; I feel very sorry for him; but I can't help him an iota, that I see; it's too bad, I declare."
Wilkins then gave Guly the details, as far as he knew them, of Arthur's misfortune.
"Well, Mr. Wilkins, this is outrageous!" exclaimed Guly, with a vehemence unusual to him. "It would require the virtue and forbearance of a saint to bear up under such things. It isn't the money so much, though I'm very sorry he lost it, but it is his good name; to have that sullied, even in thought! It is enough to drive any one to desperation."
"Don't tell Arthur so, for the world," said Wilkins, very earnestly.
"No, no, I'll not—can I go to him?"
"Of course."
"Dear Arthur," said Guly, beckoning his brother a little one side, "I know all. You know how I sympathize with you, my brother; but cheer up, we can live through it all; and you will be, in the end, thoroughly acquitted of what Mr. Delancey suspects you of, even in his own heart. The only way to convince him of his error, is to show him by
your future course how much such an act would be beneath you."