He stared in her face. 'Heaven bless thee, Deb. I know not what thou say'st. I think my brain is shaken, Deb. But _thou'rt_ my only stay.' With that, the heart-broken old man, fallen so lowly from his high estate, lay down, and fell into a deep sleep. Not so Deborah. Late in the morning, Sir Vincent awaked, and called for his daughter. It seemed that she was near, for he had scarcely called before she stood beside his bed. His strength was recruited; the strong and nervous spirit had regained its power, and lived again in torture. He gazed up at Deborah, piteous in his grim sorrow; still, in all his strength, he turned to her: 'Deborah, my child, what is to be done?' 'I am decided, father. I will be Adam Sinclair's wife. He has money enow to buy Enderby. Look you, you have nothing more to say; only see that he knows he may marry me.' 'Thou'lt marry Adam Sinclair! Deb, art in earnest? Can ye do this? But does it vex ye, love? Does it grieve ye _too_ much?' She looked so calm, he could not believe this sacrifice, but half believed her indifferent; he was sorely trembling. 'Nay, father. How vexed? how grieved? Ask me no questions. You know, father, I was always "Lady Wilful," and very firm. Here now is a note writ by mine own hand to _him_. I am decided.' Sir Vincent rose up; he knew not if he were most glad or grieved or scared, as he took her in his arms and blessed her. Never had Deborah received love or blessing so passively. She put the note in his hands, and looking at him with her great gray earnest eyes: 'Sweet father,' she said, 'it must needs be soon; and that he may know that I am in earnest, I have left that "soon" to him. I am sincere with him, father, and I tell him I have no love to give; but I would fain save Enderby; and so I ask him if he will save Enderby for love of me, and yet leave me free. There is a loophole, father, for I have no wish to wed. But if he must wed Deborah Fleming, and only this will move him, I am ready. But as he will choose the wedding-day, I stipulate for freedom till that day, never to write nor meet till the bells ring for the wedding. Let me be Deborah Fleming till then, and forget Adam Sinclair! Lovers and wooing I cannot abide. And life is long enow from the wedding to the grave!' Sir Vincent stood with the letter in his hand. 'Deborah, ye speak strangely; yet you are smiling, and your eyes and cheeks are bright. Little one, tell thy wretched father if thou'rt unhappy over this? Speak, Deb, darling; and if it grieves thee, I will see myself in jail, and Charlie on the gallows, ere thou shalt sacrifice thy life. Deborah, be honest with me.' 'Why, I am honest always. It will not hurt _me_. I will be a good wife to him till the day I die, if it must needs be so. But would you have me say I love him, reverence him? This cannot be. But if he will not save Enderby otherwise, I will be his wife. Of the rest--I will not ask you--I dare not. But Charlie shall be saved.'