'A man named Slagg has written me,' said Sir Ranald, in a low and faint voice, while leaning with one hand on the table and the other pressed on the region of the heart, 'written me to the effect that all my recent and too often renewed acceptances and promissory notes have come--how, I know not--into his possession, and that if I do not liquidate them forthwith everything we have--even to the chairs we sit on--will be seized, and myself too probably arrested, while you, Alison--you, my loved Ailie,' he continued, with sudden pathos in his voice--'will have neither house nor home!' He was a proud man, Sir Ranald Cheyne, and apart from the selfishness peculiar to many of his class--especially in Scotland--an honourable man. Thus it is but fair to infer that had he known or been aware in the least degree of the game Lord Cadbury was playing, and that the letter of Solomon Slagg was his trump card, he would rather have faced ruin and beggary than urged this odious marriage on his daughter. The latter clasped her hands in silence and looked and felt like a hunted creature. Prior to this she had often thought over the means of escape, of working for her bread--a mode of work of which she had very vague ideas indeed--but now she felt stunned and stupefied. After all--after the dawn and noon of the sweet day that had stolen upon her--could she do nothing, if she was to serve her father, but to marry this vulgar lord? 'I have refused Lord Cadbury's written proposal, papa,' said she, in a voice so low that it sounded like a whisper. 'He will renew it, and it is a brilliant offer, Alison. He will be kind to you--so kind, Alison--and you--you will not be so mad as to refuse him now. Think of his proffered settlements and of what we--what I owe him.' 'Think of every one, of all--all but myself and my future!' said Alison, with her slender fingers interlaced above her head and her eyes cast despairingly upward. 'She is yielding,' thought Sir Ranald; 'but I see how it is--this fellow Goring is in our way.' Then he put his arm round her caressingly and said, 'The sooner you become sensible, Alison, and forget your foolish--your most unwise fancy for that young fellow at Aldershot, the better for yourself and for--me.' He never forgot _himself_ with all his love for his daughter. 'But, papa,' she said, with pallid lips, 'I love--Bevil.' 'It has come to this--an engagement?' 'Yes, papa, I cannot deceive you.' 'An engagement--a secret one--without my knowledge; how dared you?' 'I promised to wait for a year--he asked me only a year--and he loves me so much!' 'No doubt,' snarled Sir Ranald, through his set teeth. 'People cannot live on love, however, and your friend "Bevil," as you call him, cannot pay my debts.' 'Oh, would that he could do so!'