Marguerite Verne by Armour, Rebecca Agatha, 1846?-1891

"Don't talk about mamma in that way, Eve; I cannot bear to listen."

Mrs. Arnold thought just then that the girl would listen to something, perhaps to her, far more disagreeable, but she held her peace.

Poor Marguerite. All prospect of happiness had now fled from her vision. She saw instead sorrow, disappointment, and, perhaps, death. "If papa survives the shock I will face the world, and, amid poverty, and the slights of my former companions, I will toil--yes, I will work at anything that I can do in honesty." And with this high resolve Marguerite set forth to break the sad news to her worldly-minded mother.

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE STORM THICKENS.

It would be much easier to imagine than describe the violent paroxysms of grief (if we may use the expression) which seized upon Mrs. Verne when Marguerite calmly broke the unwelcome news. Grief did we say--yes--"not the grief that saps the mind," but grief for the deprivation of those luxuries which the woman had considered as part and parcel of herself.

"It is just what one might have expected from the loose way in which your father has been transacting his business," cried Mrs. Verne, wringing her hands, and lamenting wildly; and then turning upon her daughter the full benefit of her penetrating eyes, added, "and it is not himself that will suffer the most, but think of us Madge. How nice you will look going out to earn your living, perhaps, behind some counter, or worse still, apprenticed to a dressmaker and blinding yourself over such rags as we would not condescend to put on, nor, more than that, recognize the people to whom they belonged."

After this harangue, Mrs. Verne threw herself into the elegant fauteuil of carved ebony and oriental tapestry, and poured forth another volume of tears more prolific than the first.

"Mamma, dear, what is the use of all this. The affair is bad enough, but it might be a great deal worse. Papa is still alive and we can live just as happily on a small income as indulging in such luxury. Really, my dear mamma, I feel that we are going to be much happier. I need not, as you remarked, have to submit to any great drudgery, I can teach music and painting, thanks to those kind instructors who took such pains in my education, and if I fail to make that kind of work remunerative, why I can easily fit myself for a school-teacher."

"Marguerite Verne!" cried the horrified mother, raising her hands in gestures of dismay, "You will drive me mad! A daughter of mine a school-teacher! Oh! dear, did I ever think I would raise a child to inherit such plebeian ideas. Bad as Evelyn is with all her faults she would not hurt my feelings in such a manner."

Marguerite looked at her mother with a feeling of compassion, yet there were rebellious thoughts in her mind.

"Is it possible that mamma forgets poor dear papa, who is most to be pitied?" murmured she, as she strove to hide the tears that would flow in spite of all her efforts.