"No. If it were only to squander away, I might do without it; and I cannot do without this." Mr. Dalrymple looked keenly at her, and she turned from his gaze. "Let me know what you want it for, that I may judge of the necessity you speak of. If it is not convenient to you to tell me, Selina, you must be satisfied with my refusal." "Well, then," she said, seeing no help for the avowal, "I owe it." "Owe it! Owe two hundred pounds! _You!_" So utter was his astonishment, so blank his dismay, that Selina's heart failed her. If her owing two hundred pounds thus impressed him, what would become of her when he learnt the whole truth! "And I am pressed for it," she faintly added. "_Please_ let me have it, Oscar." "What have you gone in debt for?" "Various things," she answered, not caring to avow particulars. But he looked steadfastly at her, waiting for the truth. "Dress." "The compact between us was that you should not run into debt," he said, in severe tones; "you promised to make your allowance do. You have behaved ill to me, Selina." She bent her head, feeling that she had. Oh, feeling it terribly just then. "Is this all you owe? All?" "Y--es." But the falsehood, as falsehoods ought to, left a tremor on her lips. Without speaking another word, he unsealed a paper in which were enclosed some bank-notes, and handed several to her, to the amount of two hundred pounds. "Understand me well, Selina, this must never occur again," he said, in an impressive tone. "These notes had a different and an urgent destination." "What a goose I was, not to ask for the other hundred!" was her mental comment, as she escaped from the room. "It is not of the least use offering Damereau two hundred: but she might take three. And where am I to get it?" Where, indeed? Did the reader ever try when in extremity to borrow a hundred pounds, or what not?--and does he remember how very hopeless a cause it seemed when present before him? Just as it appeared now to Selina Dalrymple. "I wonder whether Alice could lend it to me?" she cried, swaying her foot helplessly as she sat in the low chair. "It's not in the least likely, but I might ask her. Who's this?" The "Who's this," applied to a footstep on the stairs. It was her husband's. Some tiresome, troublesome old man of their acquaintance had come up from Netherleigh, and Oscar wanted his wife to help entertain him. Remembering the two hundred pounds just procured from Oscar she did not like to refuse, and went down.