"How did he get hold of it?"
"I don't remember anything. Papa had it—all their money—to invest, and he let Ruby's husband have it to put in wheat. It's all gone."
Thornton had heard that John Ellwell's sisters had been left a small fortune by their father with strict directions to keep it out of their brother's hands. They were two delicate maiden ladies, who had floated about Europe aimlessly for a number of years, living in one watering-place after another. Their refusal to have anything to do with their brother had been one fruitful topic of family discussion. A few years before, however, when American stocks were booming, the two maiden ladies had withdrawn their hundred thousand from the woollen mill where old Mr. Ellwell had placed it, and had given it to the stock-broker for reinvestment. Their brother had always fascinated them. He was clever, wicked perhaps, but so clever that he always got into good things. The conclusion came shortly. For the last six months Ellwell had managed to keep up the interest; now he had come to the end of his rope, and he was about to commit suicide by selling his seat in order to provide a pittance, at least, for his sisters.
Husband and wife sat silent for a long time.
"Why did Ruby come to break the news?" Thornton asked at last. His wife looked at him timidly, then flushed.
"I suppose she thought we could do something; but what shall we do? We never have anything left over."
The bolt had fallen; Thornton traced its course in a few little moments.
"There is but one thing," he said, gently; "we must see that your aunts do not starve, at least for the present."
"You'll have to give up your investigations and laboratory work, and all that?"
She was striving to comprehend his situation, an effort that he had planned for her that July day when they had become engaged.