A few words will explain all.  Mr. Wilkinson, who was comparatively wealthy, was just on the eve of making proposals for the hand of Constance Morton, when the sudden reverse overtook her father, and prostrated the hopes of the whole family.  But his regard was a true one, and not to be marred or effaced by external changes.  When he saw the sale of the house and furniture announced, he determined to buy all in at any price.  And he did so.  On the day of the sale, he bid over every competitor.

On the night of his interview with Constance and her father, he proposed a partnership with the latter.

“But I have nothing, you know, Mr. Wilkinson,” he replied.

“You have established business habits, and extensive knowledge of the operations of trade, and a large business acquaintance.  And besides these, habits of discrimination obtained by long experience, which I need.  With your co-operation in my business, I can double my profits.  Will you join me?”

“It were folly, Mr. Wilkinson, to say nay,” Mr. Morton replied.  “Then I will announce the co-partnership at once,” he said.

And it was announced before the day of marriage, but Constance did not see it.

A happy elevation succeeded of course, the sudden, painful, but brief depression of their fortunes.  Nor was any of that tried family less happy than before.  And one was far happier.  Still, neither Mr. Morton, nor the rest could ever look at Willie’s portrait without remembering how near they had once been to losing it, nor without a momentary fear, that some change in life’s coming mutations might rob them of the precious treasure, now doubly dear to them.

VERY POOR.

“WHAT has become of the Wightmans?” I asked of my old friend Payson.  I had returned to my native place after an absence of several years.  Payson looked grave.

“Nothing wrong with them, I hope.  Wightman was a clever man, and he had a pleasant family.”

My friend shook his head ominously.

“He was doing very well when I left,” said I.

“All broken up now,” was answered.  “He failed several years ago.”

“Ah!  I’m sorry to hear this.  What has become of him?”

“I see him now and then, but I don’t know what he is doing.”

“And his family?”

“They live somewhere in Old Town.  I havn’t met any of them for a long time.  Some one told me that they were very poor.”

This intelligence caused a feeling of sadness to pervade my mind.  The tone and manner of Payson, as he used the words “very poor,” gave to them more than ordinary meaning.  I saw, in imagination, my old friend reduced from comfort and respectability, to a condition of extreme poverty, with all its sufferings and humiliations.  While my mind was occupied with these unpleasant thoughts, my friend said,

“You must dine with me to-morrow.  Mrs. Payson will be glad to see you, and I want to have a long talk about old times.  We dine at three.”