Cousin Maude

The doctor was not so sure of that. Her eyes, her voice, and the

soft touch of her hand made him feel very queer; and he was almost

willing to go to Saratoga himself if by these means he could secure

her.

"How much do they charge?" he asked; and, with a flash of her bright

eyes, the lady answered, "I suppose both of us can get along with

thirty or forty dollars a week, including everything; but that isn't

much, as I don't care to stay more than two months!"

This decided the doctor. He had not three hundred dollars to throw

away, and so he tried to persuade his companion to give up Saratoga

and go with him to Laurel Hill, telling her, as an inducement, of

the improvements he had made.

"There were two parlors now," he said, "and with her handsome

furniture they would look remarkably well."

She did not tell him that her handsome furniture was mortgaged for

board and borrowed money--neither did she say that her object in

going to Saratoga was to try her powers upon a rich old Southern

bachelor who had returned from Europe, and who she knew was to pass

the coming summer at the Springs. If she could secure him Dr.

Kennedy might console himself as best he could, and she begged so

hard to defer their marriage until the autumn that the or gave up

the contest, and with a heavy heart prepared to turn his face

homeward.

"You need not make any more repairs until I come; I'd rather see to

them myself," Miss Glendower said at parting; and wondering what

further improvements she could possibly suggest, now that the parlor

windows were all right, the doctor bade her adieu, and started for

home.

Hitherto Maude had been his confidant, keeping her trust so well

that no one at Laurel Hill knew, exactly what his intentions were,

and, as was very, natural, immediately after his return he went to

her for sympathy in his disappointment. He found her weeping

bitterly, and ere he could lay before her his own grievances she

appealed to him for sympathy and aid. The man to whom her money was

intrusted had speculated largely, loaning some of it out West, at

twenty per cent., investing some in doubtful railroad stocks, and

experimenting with the rest, until by some unlucky chance he lost

the whole, and, worse than all, had nothing of his own with which to

make amends. In short, Maude was penniless, and J.C. De Vere in

despair. She had written to him immediately, and he had come,

suggesting nothing, offering no advice, and saying nothing at first,

except that "the man was mighty mean, and he had never liked his

looks."