He had, moreover, been dreadfully insulted at the Hôtel St. Antoine, 'by that cad Goring,' and even put in terror of his precious life! And were all these to go for nothing? Never, perhaps, since Time was born did a coward forgive the man who unmasked, affronted him, or did him dishonour in every way; thus more than ever was Cadbury rancorous at Bevil Goring, and resolved to revenge himself, through the means of Alison Cheyne, if he could. 'As for Goring,' said he, on one occasion to Sir Ranald, 'we know nothing of him save that he bears a commission, which any fellow who can pass the necessary exams, can get now; but as to who he is, or where he comes from, I don't suppose he could very clearly tell himself.' Sir Ranald, though somewhat rancorous in regard to his friend's rival, was patrician enough to think such remarks unnecessary, and only answered by a kind of sniff. He knew, on one hand, that Goring used the arms of the Sussex Gorings, a chevron between two annulets, dating from the first Edward, while Lord Cadbury was what the Scots call a 'gutter blood,' whose father, the alderman, had, as recorded by Debrett, been the first esquire of his race 'by Act of Parliament.' As for Alison, while undemonstrative, she was passionate as Juliet, soft and tender as Cordelia, yet none of the bloom had been taken off her young heart by that playing at love which is known as flirtation, 'ere life-time and love-time were one.' Alison, perhaps, never knew what it was, and thus the full harvest of her heart and soul had gone forth to Bevil Goring, and she felt that, if he failed her, life would 'have no more to bring but mockeries of the past.' She knew--with terror and foreboding of woe--that the great and coming crisis in that life would be her father's death. She had learned now to look that matter in the face, and pondered thereon. Then the winning ways and sweetly placid features of Sister Lisette Gabion--features that Fra Angelica might have painted with joy--would come back vividly to memory; and with them she recalled the peaceful calm of existence in the Beguinage of Antwerp, where no sound came from the world without but the bells that called to prayer and the sweet carillons of the great cathedral tower; and many times there were when she wondered, if Bevil failed her, could she find a shelter there? For already somehow he seemed to have passed out of her life, though daily she kissed the engagement ring he had placed upon her mystic finger. 'Papa dead, I shall have no present and no future,' wailed the girl in her heart, 'and what will become of me?' What if she had to go down into the ranks of that great army which toils for daily bread? And with whom and in what fashion would she earn it? Thoughts like these were corrodingly bitter for a girl so young and beautiful, so delicate and tenderly nurtured, as Alison Cheyne of Essilmont! CHAPTER X. AT CAPE COAST.