“No; I so rarely read them, you know.”

“Mr. Bainrothe, with mistaken charity,” she resumed, “I fear, sought to shield us as long as possible from the blow, which was inevitable sooner or later; or perhaps he hoped still for an adjustment of affairs, that might have left us a competence at least.  But he was deceived, Miriam; we are worth nothing—­a round naught—­” and she suited the action to the word by the union of the tips of her thumb and finger—­“is the figure whereby to describe our fortunes now; and the heiress and her once dependent friend and sister are alike—­beggars!  All brought to one level at last—­there is comfort in that thought, at least!  Ha! ha! ha!” and she laughed wildly, horribly.  I never before heard such laughter.

“Beggary is a word I repudiate, Evelyn, in any case,” I said, firmly; “and we, it seems, if this frightful thing be true, are not alone in ruin.  Be calm, dear Evelyn!  Learn to bear with dignity our fate.  We must sustain each other now—­be all in all to one another, as we have never been before.  Thank God! let us both thank God, Evelyn, from our inmost hearts, that we still have this shelter—­and—­yes—­I have reason to believe, much more.”

And, kneeling beside her bed, I told her impulsively of our concealed treasure behind the mirror (though I had once determined never to reveal this to her or any one)—­treasure guarded so long by me with bolt by night and vigilance by day!

Oh, fatal error, never to be repaired or sufficiently repented of!  Oh, utter misplacement of confidence, not warranted, surely, by any thing that had gone before, and the results of which I had subsequently such bitter cause to deplore!

She listened to me with an interest and zeal that were unmistakable.  She sat up in her bed, with her large, blue, distended eyes fixed on mine, turning paler and paler, brighter and brighter, as she gazed, until their lustre seemed opaline rather than spiritual, and with her slender white hands wreathed together like the interlacing marble snakes in the grasp of the Laocoon, so long, and lithe, and sinuous, seemed the polished, flexile fingers.  Her lips were livid, but on her cheek burned two flame-like spots, indicative ever with her of intense excitement.  Surely the god Mammon has rarely possessed so sincere a worshiper!  Let us do her this justice, at least.  So far she was consistent; so far she was devout!’

“You are sure of the truth of what you utter, Miriam?” she questioned, eagerly.

“Sure as that I live,” I replied.

“It is wonderful!  Why did he not mention this to me?  I cannot conjecture his motive.  But perhaps he has already removed and invested this gold, Miriam, of which you say there was such a quantity as to have represented a large portion of your landed estate, I think!”