"May, dear, you remember our last talk together before you went away," she said; "you were indeed right, and I was wrong. I would not have you Claude's wife now for the world. You had, indeed, a very happy escape."
"I think I told you we met them in Jerusalem, Miss Richards."
"Yes, and they are still abroad, spending what money they have. It will all be gone soon, and then they will be obliged to return home, and the crash will come."
"What do you mean, Miss Richards?" I asked. "I thought they were very rich."
"So we thought, my dear, and so they thought; but Alice's money has proved a mere bubble. Her father has speculated a great deal, and the whole of her money has gone now, every penny of it. They did not know that when you saw them in Jerusalem; it has come out since. And Claude, you know, has not very much money of his own. It would have been a nice little sum yearly if he had been careful. But oh, the bills, any dear! Scores of them are waiting for him; they send a great many here to be forwarded. I believe that is why he does not come home. But he must come, some time or other; and then his father thinks that more than the whole of Claude's capital will be swallowed up in order to pay his debts. And what will they do then, my dear?"
"I am very sorry to hear it," I said.
"Yes," said Miss Richards, "and this trouble is just crushing the life out of his poor father. I try to comfort him; and I tell him that I hope this trial will be the means, by God's blessing, of bringing Claude to the Saviour. But, though I tell Mr. Ellis so, my dear, I feel very doubtful about it, for Claude has so hardened his heart against all religion, and has so shut his eyes and refused to believe the truth, that I am very much afraid there is not much hope for him. I don't tell his father so; but I have great fears myself that even this trouble will not bring him any nearer to God."
"I was afraid his views were the same," I said, "when I met them in Jerusalem."
"Oh yes, they are even more pronounced," said Miss Richards; "and he has made his poor little wife almost as great a doubter as himself. She is a nice little thing, very affectionate and good to me; and I feel for her terribly in this trouble. I am afraid it will make great unhappiness between them. I quite dread their coming home."
That was the last time I ever saw Miss Richards. She took a loving farewell of me the next morning, and we both of us knew that, when next we met, it would be in the land where partings are unknown.