“You cannot cajole me by soft words, when your purposes are so obvious.  You think Denims may save the wreck of your fortune; and you are willing to sacrifice me, if he were ten times the brute he is, to further your ends.  But I shall marry Greenleaf.”

“Greenleaf will be a powerful protector!  I doubt if he can raise money enough to pay the clergyman for marrying you!  He will be without a shilling in a month, if he is not now.  Go to him, Sister Marcia.  I would, now.  You can live in his attic studio, you know.  In such a romantic place you would never be hungry, of course.”

Mrs. Sandford interposed,—­

“Don’t, Henry!  This is not the way.”

Marcia’s eyes flashed through her tears, as she answered,—­

“You say you are ruined,—­that the house and furniture must go.  How much better off shall I be here?”

“Well, you have your choice.”

“And when the time comes, I shall take it.”

Sobs and tears followed, but her lips were firm and her hands clenched.

“As you please, sister.”

“You come home ill-tempered, and the rage which you could not or dared not give vent to in the street you pour out here.”

“Perhaps you would have been pleased, if I had not come home at all?”

“I’m sure we should have been quite as happy without you.”

“Very well.  I may leave you, yet.”

“I don’t care how soon.”

New sobs and a firmer pressure of the lips.

Oddly enough, at that moment, Mr. Sandford was summoned to the drawing-room, where a man was waiting for him.  Fearful of the result, he went to his own room, first, and left the precious pocketbook, and then descended to the hall.

Notwithstanding the words she had spoken, Marcia waited with breathless anxiety her brother’s return; for the sound of voices, in earnest, if not angry, conversation, rose through the house.  Presently he came back with a look his face seldom wore,—­a fierce look that transformed his handsome features to a fiend’s.

“You have your wish, Sister Marcia,”—­and the words were shot out like fiery arrows,—­“I am to leave you, and go to jail.”

“To jail?” exclaimed both at once, in terror.

“Yes,—­to jail.  Gratifying to you, I suppose.  ’Tis to me,—­very.”

“What is the meaning of this?” asked Mrs. Sandford.

“It means, that one of my creditors pretends to believe that I am about to abscond, and has had me arrested, that I may give bail not to run away with an empty pocket.”

“Can’t you get out?”

“Some time, undoubtedly; but not till I give bail.”

“For how much?”—­

“Twenty thousand dollars.”

“Can’t you get some one to become security?”

“I don’t know.  Perhaps I might get Greenleaf!”

Marcia winced, but did not answer the taunt.

“Good-bye, my dear and independent sister!”