“But, Lillie, I shall have to pay it.  It is a matter of honor and honesty to do it; because I engaged to do it.”

“Well, I don’t see why that should be!  It isn’t your debt; it is their debt:  and why need you do it?  I am sure Dick Follingsbee said that there were ways in which people could put their property out of their hands when they got caught in such scrapes as this.  Dick knows just how to manage.  He told me of plenty of people that had done that, who were living splendidly, and who were received everywhere; and people thought just as much of them.”

“O Lillie, Lillie! my child,” said John; “you don’t know any thing of what you are talking about!  That would be dishonorable, and wholly out of the question.  No, Lillie dear, the fact is,” he said, with a great gulp, and a deep sigh,—­“the fact is, I have failed; but I am going to fail honestly.  If I have nothing else left, I will have my honor and my conscience.  But we shall have to give up this house, and move into a smaller one.  Every thing will have to be given up to the creditors to settle the business.  And then, when all is arranged, we must try to live economically some way; and perhaps we can make it up again.  But you see, dear, there can be no more of this kind of expenses at present,” he said, pointing to the dresses and jewelry on the bed.

“Well, John, I am sure I had rather die!” said Lillie, gathering herself into a little white heap, and tumbling into the middle of the bed.  “I am sure if we have got to rub and scrub and starve so, I had rather die and done with it; and I hope I shall.”

John crossed his arms, and looked gloomily out of the window.

“Perhaps you had better,” he said.  “I am sure I should be glad to.”

“Yes, I dare say!” said Lillie; “that is all you care for me.  Now there is Dick Follingsbee, he would be taking care of his wife.  Why, he has failed three or four times, and always come out richer than he was before!”

“He is a swindler and a rascal!” said John; “that is what he is.”

“I don’t care if he is,” said Lillie, sobbing.  “His wife has good times, and goes into the very first society in New York.  People don’t care, so long as you are rich, what you do.  Well, I am sure I can’t do any thing about it.  I don’t know how to live without money,—­that’s a fact! and I can’t learn.  I suppose you would be glad to see me rubbing around in old calico dresses, wouldn’t you? and keeping only one girl, and going into the kitchen, like Miss Dotty Peabody?  I think I see myself!  And all just for one of your Quixotic notions, when you might just as well keep all your money as not.  That is what it is to marry a reformer!  I never have had any peace of my life on account of your conscience, always something or other turning up that you can’t act like anybody else.  I should think, at least, you might have contrived to settle this place on me and poor little Lillie, that we might have a house to put our heads in.”