And quickly her little hands put a rosebud into the peer's lapel, but in a mechanical and task-work manner, while there was an expression on her lips--and full, delicate, and emotional lips they were--and in her small, pale face, with its decided little chin, that prevented him from greatly appreciating the gift as a younger man would have done; so the attempt even at flirtation fell flat. 'Papa does so love tea-roses; we used to have such lovely ones at Essilmont,' said Alison. 'Your poor papa!' said Cadbury, softly, 'when you marry, how lonely he will be!' Alison shrank back uneasily, as she thought of Bevil Goring, and replied-- 'I don't mean ever to marry.' 'Indeed! why so cruel to some one in particular? and why in any sense?' 'I could never leave dear old papa in our--our changed circumstances; we are so much to each other.' 'But, in marrying, you need not lose him.' 'I don't think he would care to share me with another.' 'How absurd, Miss Cheyne!' 'I mean to devote myself to him always. He is the only _old_ man I shall ever care for; the only old man worth giving up my life to. Well,' added Alison, mentally, 'that is pretty pointed surely; if he does not take that hint, he will never take any.' 'But your papa cannot live for ever,' said Cadbury, not unwilling to inflict a thrust in return. 'How cruel of you to remind me of that!' exclaimed the girl, her fine eyes suffusing for a moment. 'I know that he is some years older than yourself; but I hope he may live to the age of Old Parr!' References to his years, even when he drew them on himself, always stung her elderly adorer, who felt his own inborn coarseness too, as compared with her serene air of distinction; for Alison Cheyne, even when provoked to say that which for her was a sharp thing, always looked _pur sang_ from her bright brown hair to her tiny feet. The absence of even one lady to meet her had surprised the girl; but she knew not, and neither did Sir Ranald, owing to the isolated life he led at Chilcote, that, though fair ones from London were not unfrequent visitors at Cadbury Court, they were of a style that the ladies of the county declined to meet on any terms, which may give our readers a new insight to the general character of this hereditary legislator. Quiet though his tone and bearing, in his past life the man had been--nay, was still--secretly a coarse libertine and a _roué_, who indulged in all the vicious propensities which his ample wealth enabled him to do. Alison Cheyne was his last fancy, and he was determined, by fair means or foul, by marriage or trepan, that his she should be. Her father's poverty and pride, his age and growing infirmities, could all be utilised to this end, and nothing now gave him doubts of easy success but his own years, his grey hairs, and perhaps--her love for another. 'You do not wear many rings, Miss Cheyne; but such a hand as yours requires no ornament.'