"Calm yourself, dear Lily," said General Tracy, "and speak to me two or three words with your own truth and candour. Answer me first one question." "Stay, my dear uncle," said Emily; "you first answer me one. I am sure you went to London to seek means of relieving my father. He has told me all; and therefore there need be no concealment. What have you done to assist him?" "But little, my dear child," answered her uncle. "There is every probability, indeed, of many of these speculations rising in importance ere long; but at the present moment, the sale of all the shares would not produce a sufficient sum to meet even the first pressure. Nevertheless, dear Emily, that must not be the cause of your whole happiness for life being sacrificed. I have seen the principal parties concerned; they seem ready to receive an offer I have made them, after having my estate valued; and if, as I fear, this proposed marriage is repugnant to all your feelings, it must not take place." "After having your estate valued," repeated Emily, in an abstracted tone; but then raising her head suddenly, she added, "my dear uncle, the marriage is not only proposed, but finally settled. I will not jilt any man. I will not ruin my uncle and my father. I will not retract my promise given. Thank you, thank you, dear uncle. Love your poor Emily ever; and your affection and my father's will be my reward." Emily again cast herself into his arms to weep there; but General Tracy could make no impression, though he tried to shake her resolution. Her fate was fixed; her mind made up. She was not to be changed. "What if I were to quarrel with, call him out, and shoot him?" thought General Tracy, as he retired from his niece's room to his own. "Why, it would be murder--that will not do." And, sad, angry, and discontented, he dressed, and went down to dinner. He was a gentleman, however; and he carefully avoided every subject which might lead him to show the irritation he felt. He did not, indeed, court conversation with Sir William Winslow; and his words, when any took place between them, were as brief as possible, but perfectly civil. Indeed, when he looked at him, and saw his pale cheek and haggard eye, he felt inclined to pity him. "That fellow is creating his own wretchedness, as well as that of the poor girl," he thought. "What a fool he must be! He sees she does not love--never will love him; and yet he persists. If he must _buy_ an unwilling wife, why the devil does he not go to Constantinople?" A moment or two after, however, anxious to turn his thoughts from the most painful subject they could rest upon, he addressed Mr. Tracy, saying--"By the way, Arthur, let me hear something more of this horrible event which you just mentioned in your last letter; but which is filling all the London papers, with tales of blood. Is it true, that Acton has been taken up on suspicion?" "Not only taken up, but committed upon the verdict of the coroner's jury," replied Mr. Tracy.