Andrew asked no more questions for some time, but sat, thoughtful, with his face so far turned away from the young man, that its expression could not be seen.

“Mrs. Howland is living, I presume?” said he, at length, in a tone as indifferent as he could assume; but which was, nevertheless, unsteady.

“Yes.  She was living when I came away.”

Andrew drew a quick breath, and then his laboring chest found relief in a long expiration.

“Poor old man!  I’m sorry for him,” came from his lips in a few moments afterwards.  The tone was half indifferent, yet expressed some sympathy.

“Everybody seems sorry for him,” said Winters.  “It has broken him down very much.  He looks ten years older.”

“Is he entirely out of business?” asked Andrew.

“No; he is still going on; but he doesn’t appear to do much.  I think the family is poor.  They’ve sold their handsome house, and are living in a much smaller one.  I heard father say that Mr. Howland had received an extension from his creditors, but that he was too much crippled to be able to go through, and would, in the end, break down entirely.”

There was another pause, and then Andrew changed the subject by asking the young man something about himself, and led on the conversation, from step to step, until he got him to mention the fact that he had a sister named Emily.

“Is she older than yourself?” inquired Andrew.

“Oh, yes.  Some four years older,” was replied.

“Married, of course,” said Andrew.

The very effort he made to say this with seeming unconcern gave so unnatural an expression to his tone of voice, that young Winters looked at him with momentary surprise.

“No, she is not married,” he answered.

“She’s old enough,” said Andrew, speaking now in a tone of more real indifference.

“Yes; but she’ll probably die an old maid.  She’s had two or three good offers; but no one appears just to suit her fancy.  Father was very angry about her rejecting a young man some two or three years ago, who afterwards disgraced himself, and broke the heart of a young creature who had been weak enough to marry him.”

“Then I should say that your sister was a sensible girl,” remarked Andrew, in a cheerful voice.

“Yes, she is a sensible girl; and, what is more, a good girl.  Ah, me!  I wish I were half as sensible and half as good.”

With what a free motion did the heart of Andrew beat after receiving this intelligence!

“Is Mary Howland married?” he asked.  He knew that she was, for he had seen the fact noticed in a newspaper.

“Yes; she married a Mr. Markland.”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know much about, him.  He’s a teller in one of the banks.”

“How did the family like her marriage?”

“Not at all.  They don’t visit.”

“Indeed!  Why?”

“Dear knows!  Old Mr. Howland is a hard sort of a man when he takes up a prejudice against any one.  He didn’t like Markland, and said that Mary shouldn’t marry him.  She felt differently, and did marry him.  The consequence was, that the old man said and did so much that was offensive, that he and Markland have had no intercourse since.”