It had all rested on a tissue of deceit and speculation that had no foundation in real values.  He knew that fact better than any one else, but he had hoped, with the hope such men always have, that the same methods that brought him the money would also prevent the loss.  He had been deceived in this as many others have been.  As soon as the truth that he was practically a beggar had dawned upon him, he saw no escape from suicide.  It was the irresistible result of such a life as he had lived.  He had made money his god.  As soon as that god was gone out of his little world there was nothing more to worship; and when a man’s object of worship is gone he has no more to live for.  Thus died the great millionaire, Charles R. Sterling.  And, verily, he died as the fool dieth, for what is the gain or the loss of money compared with the unsearchable riches of eternal life which are beyond the reach of speculation, loss or change?

Mrs. Sterling’s death was the result of the shock.  She had not been taken into her husband’s confidence for years, but she knew that the source of his wealth was precarious.  Her life for several years had been a death in life.  The Rolfes always gave an impression that they could endure more disaster unmoved than any one else.  Mrs. Sterling illustrated the old family tradition when she was carried into the room where her husband lay.  But the feeble tenement could not hold the spirit and it gave up the ghost, torn and weakened by long years of suffering and disappointment.

The effect of this triple blow, the death of father and mother, and the loss of property, was instantly apparent in the sisters.  The horror of events stupefied Rose for weeks.  She lay unmoved by sympathy or any effort to rally.  She did not seem yet to realize that the money which had been so large a part of her very existence was gone.  Even when she was told that she and Felicia must leave the house and be dependent on relatives and friends, she did not seem to understand what it meant.

Felicia, however, was fully conscious of the facts.  She knew just what had happened and why.  She was talking over her future plans with her cousin Rachel a few days after the funerals.  Mrs. Winslow and Rachel had left Raymond and come to Chicago at once as soon as the terrible news had reached them, and with other friends of the family were planning for the future of Rose and Felicia.

“Felicia, you and Rose must come to Raymond with us.  That is settled.  Mother will not hear to any other plan at present,” Rachel had said, while her beautiful face glowed with love for her cousin, a love that had deepened day by day, and was intensified by the knowledge that they both belonged to the new discipleship.

“Unless I can find something to do here,” answered Felicia.  She looked wistfully at Rachel, and Rachel said gently: 

“What could you do, dear?”

“Nothing.  I was never taught to do anything except a little music, and I do not know enough about it to teach it or earn my living at it.  I have learned to cook a little,” Felicia added with a slight smile.