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“How many times have I wished that we had never commenced this business!” said Edith. “It has brought us nothing but trouble from the beginning; and, unless my fears are idle, some worse troubles are yet before us.”

“Of what kind?”

“Henry did not come home until after two o’clock this morning.”

“What!” exclaimed the mother in painful surprise.

“I sat up for him. Knowing that he had gone out with Mr. Barling, and, finding that he had not returned by eleven o’clock, I could not go to bed. I said nothing to Miriam, but sat up alone. It was nearly half past two when he came home in company with Barling. Both, I am sorry to say, were so much intoxicated, that they could scarcely make their way up stairs.”

“Oh, Edith!” exclaimed the stricken mother, hiding her face in her hands, and weeping aloud.

Miriam entered the room at this moment, and, seeing her mother in tears, and Edith looking the very image of distress, begged to know the cause of their trouble. Little was said to her then; but Edith, when she was alone with her soon after, fully explained the desperate condition of their affairs. Hitherto they had, out of regard for Miriam, concealed from her the nature of the difficulties that were closing around them.

“I dreamed not of this,” said Miriam, in a voice of anguish. “My poor mother! What pain she must suffer! No wonder that her countenance is so often sad. But, Edith, cannot we do something?”

Ever thus, to the mind of the sweet girl, when the troubles of others were mentioned to her, came, first, the desire to afford relief.

“We can do nothing,” replied Edith, “at present, unless it be to assist through the house, so that the chambermaid can attend the door, wait on the table, and do other things now required of the waiter.”

“And let him go?”

“Yes.”

“I am willing to do all in my power, Edith,” said Miriam. “But, if mother has lost so much already, will she not lose still more if she continue to go on as she is now going?”

“She hopes to fill all her rooms; then she thinks that she will be able to make something.”

“This has been her hope from the first,” replied Miriam.

“Yes; and thus far it has been a vain hope.”

“Three hundred dollars lost already,” sighed Miriam, “our beautiful furniture ruined, and all domestic happiness destroyed! Ah me! Where is all going to end? Uncle Hiram was right when he objected to mother’s taking boarders, and said that it was the worst thing she could attempt to do. I wish we had taken his advice. Willingly would I give music lessons or work with my hands for an income, to save mother from the suffering and labour she has now to bear.”

“The worst is,” said Edith, following out her own thoughts rather than replying to her sister, “now that all our money is gone, debt will follow. How is the next quarter’s rent to be paid?”

“A hundred aid fifty dollars?”

“Yes. How can we pay that?”

“Oh dear!” sighed Miriam. What are we to do? How dark all looks!”

“If there is not some change,” said Edith, “by the close of another six months, every thing we have will be sold for debt.”

“Dreadful!” ejaculated Miriam, “dreadful!”

For a long time the sisters conferred together, but no gleam of light arose in their minds. All the future remained shrouded in darkness.

CHAPTER VII.

THE man named Burton, to whom reference has been made as being particularly attentive to Miriam, was really charmed with the beautiful young girl. But the affection of a man such as he was comes to its object as a blight instead of a blessing. Miriam, while she did not repel his attentions, for his manner towards her was ever polite and respectful, felt, nevertheless, an instinctive repugnance towards him, and when she could keep out of his way without seeming to avoid him, she generally did so.