“Yes,” replied Flint; “and I see by the ‘Gazette’ they are bankrupts, and, by your face, that they have speculated with your intended daughter-in-law’s money, and lost it!”

“Positively so!” rejoined Mr. Linden, with great heat.  “Drew it out many months ago!  But they have exceedingly wealthy connections—­at least Crowther has—­who will, I suppose, arrange Miss Arnold’s claim rather than their relative should be arraigned for felony.”

“Felony!—­you are mistaken, my good sir.  There is no felony—­no legal felony, I mean—­in the matter.  Miss Arnold can only prove against the estate like any other creditor.”

“The devil she can’t!  Tom, then, must look out for another wife, for I am credibly informed there won’t be a shilling in the pound.”

And so it turned out.  The great corn-firm had been insolvent for years; and after speculating desperately, and to a frightful extent, with a view to recover themselves, had failed to an enormous amount—­their assets, comparatively speaking, proving to be nil.

The ruin spread around, chiefly on account of the vast quantity of accommodation-paper they had afloat, was terrible; but upon no one did the blow fall with greater severity than on young Linden and his promised wife.  His father ordered him to instantly break off all acquaintance with Miss Arnold; and on the son, who was deeply attached to her, peremptorily refusing to do so, Linden, senior, threatened to turn him out of doors, and ultimately disinherit him.  Angry, indignant, and in love, Thomas Linden did a very rash and foolish thing; he persuaded Catherine Arnold to consent to a private marriage, arguing that if the indissoluble knot were once fairly tied, his father would, as a matter of course—­he being an only child—­become reconciled to what he could no longer hope to prevent or remedy.

The imprudent young man deceived both himself and her who trusted in his pleasing plausibilities.  Ten minutes after he had disclosed the marriage to his father, he was turned, almost penniless, out of doors; and the exasperated and inexorable old man refused to listen to any representation in his favor, by whomsoever proffered, and finally, even to permit the mention of his name in his hearing.

“It’s of no use,” said Mr. Flint, on returning for the last time, from a mission undertaken to extort, if possible, some provision against absolute starvation for the newly-wedded couple.  “He is as cold and hard as adamant, and I think, if possible, even more of a tiger than before.  He will be here presently to give instructions for his will.”

“His will!  Surely he will draw that up himself after his own common-sense, business fashion?”

“He would unquestionably have done so a short time since; but some events that have lately occurred have considerably shaken his estimate of his own infallibility, and he is, moreover, determined, he says, that there shall be no mistake as to effectually disinheriting his son.  He has made two or three heavy losses, and his mind is altogether in a very cankered, distempered state.”