“It’s no use for you to talk,” said old Mr. Greenville, after a long conversation with the two; “the die is cast.  I have resolved, and all the arguments you can bring forward will not cause me to break my resolution.”

“Well,” remarked George, “perhaps the day will come when you will deeply regret forming such a resolution.  Perhaps the sunshine of prosperity will not always illumine our path.”

“Be that as it may,” interrupted Mr. Greenville, “we will not allow our imagination to wander forth into the mystical regions of the future, or picture to ourselves scenes of wretchedness, if such await us.  Flatter me not with the good intentions of Ray Bland.”

Months passed away, and the children of the proud Mr. Greenville forbore to mention in the presence of their father aught concerning their friend Ray Bland, or to excite the anger of the old gentleman by combating his prejudices against the poor.

Months passed away, and again Ray Bland found himself beneath the roof of his former friend.  He was received by George and Amelia with the cordiality that had ever marked his intercourse with them; but the father was, if possible, more morose and sullen than usual.

Ray had several times made the attempt to know the cause of this coldness, but as often as he alluded to it George would invariably turn the subject; and he forbore to question further, content with the happiness which he enjoyed in the society of those he held so dear.

It was the evening of a fine day in the early spring, that the three friends sat together.  It was the last evening of his visit, and Ray expected not to return for a long time.  Alone in his study, the father vented his indignation against paupers, which respect for his daughter’s feelings only prevented in the presence of their visitor.  He opened the casement.  Clouds were gathering in the sky, and now and then a faint flash of lightning illumined the increasing darkness; and the far-off voice of the storm was audible from the distance, each moment increasing in strength and violence.  Soon the storm was upon them.

The old gentleman retired to his apartment.  Each moment the storm increased in violence, and in vain did he strive to close his eyes in sleep.

At length a flash more vivid, accompanied by a peal of thunder more terrific than any that had preceded it, startled the inmates of the mansion.  The wind howled terribly, and the old trees groaned and creaked about the dwelling with a fearful and terrific sound.

Within all was still and quiet.  No word was spoken, for it was a fearful night, and in fear and dread they suspended their conversation.