“It is true, nevertheless,” he answered, gloomily. “Two months ago I expected that to-day would find us all beggars.”
“What do you mean?” his wife gasped.
“Just what I say; and but for the appearance of a friendly hand just when and where I least expected it, I should have been obliged to fail, overwhelmed with debt and disgrace, and everything we have—house, furniture, horses, and carriages—would all have had to come under the hammer of the auctioneer.”
“I cannot believe it,” Mrs. Richards said, growing pale.
“That does not alter the fact, however,” her husband replied, laconically.
“Why did you not tell me?”
“I did tell you. I kept writing to you when you were at Newport, Ellen, that I could not long endure such a drain upon my purse as you were subjecting it to, and that you must curtail your expenses; but you paid no heed to me, launching instead into greater extravagances.”
“But I never dreamed that things were so serious as you represented,” she said, a guilty flush mounting to her forehead, as she remembered that all her lavishness had been to outshine Star. “I never thought you were really embarrassed, or I would not have asked for so much.”
“Well, then,” he answered, in a gentler tone, “show your consideration for me now, for you and Josephine will have to wear your old clothes this winter. My trouble has been tided over for the present through the kindness of a friend, but it will require great care and calculation on my part to keep my head above board even now. I shall have to begin cautiously, or I shall be back again in the slough of despond.”
“But I do not see how we can get along without some new things,” began Mrs. Richards, selfishly.