Some light may be thrown upon Mr. Talbot's operations, if the reader will accompany him to a brownstone house on Lexington avenue, on the evening of the day when Dan was sent to the office of the Wall street brokers.

Mr. Talbot ascended the steps, not with the elastic step of a man with whom the world is prospering, but with the slow step of a man who is burdened with care.

"Is Miss Conway at home?" he inquired of the servant who answered the bell.

"Yes, sir."

"Will you tell her I should like to speak with her?"

"Yes, sir."

Talbot walked in with the air of one who was familiar with the house, and entering a small front room, took a seat.

The furniture was plain, and the general appearance was that of a boarding-house.

Talbot seemed immersed in thought, and only raised his eyes from the carpet when he heard the entrance of a young lady. His face lighted up, and he rose eagerly.

"My dear Virginia," he said, "it seems a long time since I saw you."

"It is only four days," returned the young lady, coolly.

"Four days without seeing you is an eternity."

The young lady smiled. It was easy to see that Talbot was in love, and she was not.

"A very pretty compliment," she said. "Well, have you any news?"

"Not good news," said he, soberly.

She shrugged her shoulders, and looked disappointed.

Before going further, it may be as well to describe briefly the young lady who had so enthralled the book-keeper.

She had the advantage of youth, a complexion clear red and white, and decidedly pretty features. If there was a defect, it was the expression of her eyes. There was nothing soft or winning in her glance. She seemed, and was, of a cold, calculating, unsympathetic nature. She was intensely selfish, and was resolved only to marry a man who could gratify her taste for finery and luxurious living.

She was the niece of Mrs. Sinclair, who kept the boarding-house, and though living in dependence upon her aunt, did nothing to relieve her from the care and drudgery incidental to her business.

"It's too provoking," she said, pouting.

"So it is, Virginia;" and Talbot tried to take her hand, but she quietly withdrew it.

"You told me that you would have plenty of money by this time, Mr. Talbot."

"I expected it, but a man can't foresee the fluctuations of Wall street. I am afraid I shall meet with a loss."

"I don't believe you are as smart as Sam Eustis—he's engaged to my cousin. He made ten thousand dollars last month on Lake Shore."

"It's the fools that blunder into luck," said Talbot, irritated.

"Then you'd better turn fool; it seems to pay," said Virginia, rather sharply.

"No need of that—I'm fool enough already," said Talbot, bitterly.

"Oh, well, if you've only come here to make yourself disagreeable, I'm sure you'd better stay away," said the young lady, tossing her head.

"I came here expecting sympathy and encouragement," said Talbot. "Instead, you receive me with taunts and coldness."

"You are unreasonable, Mr. Talbot," said Virginia. "I will be cheerful and pleasant when you bring me agreeable news."

"Oh, Virginia!" exclaimed Talbot, impulsively. "Why will you require impossibilities of me? Take me as I am. I have an income of two thousand dollars a year. We can live comfortably on that, and be happy in a snug little home."

"Snug little home!" repeated the young lady, scornfully. "Thank you; I'd rather not. I know just what that means. It means that I am to be a household drudge, afraid to spend an extra sixpence—perhaps obliged to take lodgers, like my aunt."

"Not so bad as that, Virginia."

"It would come to that in time."

"I am sure you cannot love me when you so coolly give me up for money."

"I haven't given you up, but I want you to get money."

"Would to Heaven I could!"

"You could if you were in earnest."

"Do you doubt that?"

"Where there's a will, there's a way, Mr. Talbot. If you really care so much for me, you will try to support me as I want to live."

"Tell me, in a word, what you want."

"Well," said Virginia, slowly, "I want to go to Europe for my honey-moon. I've heard so much of Paris, I know I should like it ever so much. Then I want to live respectably when I get back."

"What do you call living respectably?" asked Talbot.

"Well, we must have a nice little house to ourselves, and I think, just at first, I could get along with three servants; and I should want to go to the opera, and the theater, and to concerts."

"You have not been accustomed to live in that way, Virginia."

"No; and that's why I have made up my mind not to marry unless my husband can gratify me."

"Suppose this is impossible?"

"Impossible for you!" said Miss Conway, significantly.

"You mean you will look elsewhere?" said Talbot, hastily.

"Yes, I think so," said Virginia, coolly.

"And you would desert me for a richer suitor?" he demanded, quickly.

"Of course I would rather marry you—you know that," said Virginia, with perfect self-possession; "but if you can't meet my conditions, perhaps it is better that we should part."

"You are cruel—heartless!" exclaimed Talbot, angrily.

"No; only sensible," she returned, calmly. "I don't mean to marry you and be unhappy all my life; and I can't be happy living in the stuffy way my aunt does. We should both be sorry for such a marriage when it was too late."

"I will take the risk, Virginia," said Talbot, fixing his eyes with passionate love on the cold-hearted girl.

"But I will not," said Virginia, decidedly. "I am sure you needn't take it to heart, Mr. Talbot. Why don't you exert yourself and win a fortune, as other people do? I am sure plenty of money is made in Wall street."

"And lost."

"Not if you are smart. Come now, smooth your face, and tell me you will try," she said, coaxingly.

"Yes, Virginia, I will try," he answered, his face clearing. "And if I try——"

"You will succeed," she said, smiling.

"Well, I hope I may."

"And now don't let us talk about disagreeable things. Do you know, sir, it is a week since you took me to any place of amusement? And here I have been moping at home every evening with my aunt, who is terribly tiresome, poor old soul!"

"I would rather spend the evening here with you, Virginia, than go to any place of amusement."

"Then I can't agree with you. One gets tired of spooning."

"I don't—if you call by that name being in the company of one you love."

"You would, if you had as little variety as I have."

"Tell me one thing, Virginia—you love me, don't you?" asked Talbot, in whose mind sometimes there rose an unpleasant suspicion that his love was not returned.

"Why, of course I do, you foolish man," she said, carelessly. "And now, where are you going to take me?"

"Where do you want to go, my darling?"

"To the Italian opera. To-morrow they play 'The Huguenots.'"

"I thought you didn't care for music, Virginia?"

"I don't go for that. I want to go because it's fashionable, and I want to be seen. So, be a good boy, and get some nice seats for to-morrow evening."

"Very well, my darling."

"And you'll try to get rich, for my sake?"

"Yes, Virginia. How rich must I be?"

"As soon as you can tell me you have ten thousand dollars, and will spend half of it on a trip to Europe, I will marry you."

"Is that a bargain?"

"Yes."

"Then I hope to tell you so soon."

"The sooner the better."

When Talbot left the house it was with the determination to secure the sum required by any means, however objectionable. His great love had made him reckless.

Virginia Conway followed his retreating form with her cool, calculating glance.

"Poor man! he is awfully in love!" she said to herself. "I'll give him two months to raise the money, and if he fails, I think I can captivate Mr. Cross, though he's horrid."

Mr. Cross was a middle-aged grocer, a widower, without children, and reputed moderately wealthy.

When Mr. Talbot had entered the house, Dan was not far off. Later, he saw him at the window with Virginia.

"I suppose that's his young lady," thought Dan. "All right! I guess he's safe for this evening."