However this was, the Wickersham house was mortgaged, and Rumor began to say even up-town that the Wickersham fortune had melted away.

The news of Keith’s success in England had reached home as soon as he had.  His friends congratulated him, and his acquaintances greeted him with a warmth that, a few years before, would have cheered his heart and have made him their friend for life.  Mrs. Nailor, when she met him, almost fell on his neck.  She actually called him her “dear boy.”

“Oh, I have been hearing about you!” she said archly.  “You must come and dine with us at once and tell us all about it.”

“About what?” inquired Keith.

“About your great successes on the other side.  You see, your friends keep up with you!”

“They do, indeed, and sometimes get ahead of me,” said Keith.

“How would to-morrow suit you?  No, not to-morrow—­Saturday?  No; we are going out Saturday.  Let me see—­we are so crowded with engagements I shall have to go home and look at my book.  But you must come very soon.  You have heard the news, of course?  Isn’t it dreadful?”

“What news?” He knew perfectly what she meant.

“About the Norman-Wentworths getting a divorce?  Dreadful, isn’t it?  Perfectly dreadful!  But, of course, it was to be expected.  Any one could see that all along?”

“I could not,” said Keith, dryly; “but I do not claim to be any one.”

“Which side are you on?  Norman’s, I suppose?”

“Neither,” said Keith.

“You know, Ferdy always was in love with her?” This with a glance to obtain Keith’s views.

“No; I know nothing about it.”

“Yes; always,” she nodded oracularly.  “Of course, he is making love to Alice Lancaster, too, and to the new governess at the Wentworths’.”

“Who is that?” asked Keith, moved by some sudden instinct to inquire.

“That pretty country cousin of Norman’s, whom they brought there to save appearances when Norman first left.  Huntington is her name.”

Keith suddenly grew hot.

“Yes, Ferdy is making love to her, too.  Why, they say that is what they have quarrelled about.  Louise is insanely jealous, and she is very pretty.  Yes—­you know, Ferdy is like some other men?  Just gregarious!  Yes?  But Louise Wentworth was always his grande passion.  He is just amusing himself with the governess, and she, poor little fool, supposes she has made a conquest.  You know how it is?”

“I really know nothing about it,” declared Keith, in a flame.

“Yes; and he was always her grande passion?  Don’t you think so?”

“No, I do not,” said Keith, firmly.  “I know nothing about it; but I believe she and Norman were devoted,—­as devoted a couple as I ever saw,—­and I do not see why people cannot let them alone.  I think none too well of Ferdy Wickersham, but I don’t believe a word against her.  She may be silly; but she is a hundred times better than some who calumniate her.”