"Now do stop talking; how can I tell my story if you interrupt every minute? Messrs. Dawson & Blake were very anxious to get back their money, and they wanted to sell the Firs in order to realize it. Mr. Spens had the greatest work in the world to get them to accept Frances's noble offer. He put tremendous pressure to bear, and at last, very unwillingly, they yielded." "Well, well, my dear"--the squire wiped the moisture from his brow--"they have yielded, that is the great thing--that is the end of the story; at least, for the present." "No, it is not the end of the story," said Fluff, looking up angrily into the old man's face. "You were quite satisfied, for it seemed all right to you; you were to stay on quietly here, and have your comforts, and the life you thought so pleasant; and Frances was to give up Philip Arnold, whom she loves, and go away to toil and slave and be miserable. Oh, it was all right for you, but it was bitterly all wrong for Frances!" "My dear little Fluff, my dear Ellen, pray try and compose yourself; I assure you my side of the bargain is dull, very dull. I am alone; I have no companionship. Not a living soul who cares for me is now to be found at the Firs. My side is not all sunshine, Fluff; and I own it--yes, I will own it, Fluff; I miss Frances very much." "I am glad of that; I am very glad. Now I am coming to the second part of my story. A week ago Mr. Spens had a letter from Messrs. Dawson & Blake to say that they had sold their mortgage on the Firs to a stranger--a man who had plenty of money, but who had taken a fancy to the Firs, and who wished to get it cheap." The squire sat upright on his chair. "Mr. Spens wrote at once to the new owner of the mortgage, and asked him if he would take five per cent. interest on his money, and not disturb you while you lived. Mr. Spens received a reply yesterday, and it is because of that I am here now." The squire's face had grown very white; his lips trembled a little. "What was the reply?" he asked. "Really--really, a most extraordinary statement; most queer of Spens not to come to me himself about it. What was the reply, Fluff?" "I told you Mr. Spens was ill and in bed. The stranger's reply was not favorable to your wishes. He wishes for the Firs; he has seen the place, and would like to live there. He says you must sell; or, there is another condition." "What is that? This news is most alarming and disquieting. What is the other condition--the alternative?" Fluff rose, yawned slightly, and half turned her back to the squire.