He wrote to Mr. Slagg for information and Sir Ranald's address, but received no answer (doubtless Mr. Slagg was acting under the orders of Lord Cadbury), save printed circulars, from which it appeared that Mr. Slagg was ready to advance 'money confidentially to young officers and others on easy terms, borrowers' own security, repayments at convenience, &c., &c.' It was terrible for Bevil Goring to surrender those hopes he had been cherishing in the depths of his heart--hopes that, though of recent growth, were strong, and dear, and precious, and the realisation of which had become his daily prayer. A darkness as sudden seemed to have fallen upon him! He remembered now all the poor girl's painful forebodings on that last eventful night that _something was about to happen_--the surely absurd story about the spectre dog, which he had so affectionately derided; but now 'something' certainly _had_ come to pass! And what was it? CHAPTER XV. EVIL TIDINGS. 'I'm glad to see you back, Miss Cheyne,' said Archie, as she met him in the passage or entrance-hall; 'Sir Ranald has missed you sairly.' 'Missed me? I left him asleep, Archie,' exclaimed Alison. 'Something wakened him wi' a start, just as ye gaed into the garden.' 'Something--what?' 'A sound, I watna what,' replied Archie, unwillingly, smoothing his silver hair with his hand, and looking round him stealthily. 'What sound? I heard nothing in the garden.' 'Weel, something like the baying o' a hound.' 'A _hound_!' said Alison, faintly. 'I dinna quite say sae; but say naething to Sir Ranald aboot it. Gang to him at aince; he's got some unco news, I fear, by the evening post.' Walking like an automaton, though very pale, and tremulous in heart and limb, Alison entered the dining-room, where she found her father walking up and down its entire length, with a letter crushed and crumpled in his thin white hand, which was nervously clenched upon it. His face was very pale; his lips were twitching, and drops of perspiration stood upon his brow. 'Papa!' exclaimed Alison, winding her soft arms round him; 'what is the matter with you?' 'It has come at last, child.' 'What has come?' 'The long-impending and utter ruin, unless--unless----' 'What?' 'You will save me; end my sorrows, and your own, by accepting Cadbury. You can lift from my heart and our family the shadow that has darkened them so long--the cold shadow of grinding poverty.' Her lips became white and parched--so parched that she had to moisten them with her tongue, and even then she could not speak for a time. Bevil Goring's kisses were fresh upon them, and now she had to listen to a death sentence like this! Her first dread had been a reference to her absence at such a time, but, by the business in question, it was evident her ramble in the dusk was forgotten, or a very subordinate matter indeed.