On an evening early in March he sat--as Alison long remembered--for the _last_ time in his old arm-chair listening to the rooks cawing in the lofty beeches, the sparrows twittering under the eaves, and the setting sun was throwing a golden glory over the eastern uplands and a ruddy gleam on the square, ivyed tower of Chilcote Church in the distance; and then, without moving his head, which lay back on a pillow, his eyes, clear and keen though sunken, through the _pince-nez_ balanced on his long thin nose, regarded lovingly and affectionately, the downcast face of Alison, whose pretty hands were adjusting in a vase some fragrant March violets that Archie had brought her--violets which, as Shakespeare says, are 'sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes.' Once upon a time Sir Ranald had found it a burden--a bore to sign a cheque, to read a letter, or see his lawyer when he had a land steward; now there were no cheques to sign, no letters to read save those of duns, and no lawyer to see, or land steward either; and now, for the last time he began to harp upon the old string, when she kissed him, and asked him of what he was thinking. 'Of what can I think save your future, Alison? who cares what becomes of mine--little as there is left of it, and tired as I am of a life that is too intolerable to be endured for one's-self alone!' was the querulous response. Alison with difficulty restrained her tears, and in a mechanical way re-adjusted the bouquet of violets. 'Girls--especially poor ones--have only a certain number of chances, Alison, however handsome and attractive they may be,' he resumed. 'You, under great monetary disadvantages, have had one that is every way unexceptionable. What more do you want--what more can you want?' he added, rocking his bald head from side to side, and closing his eyes wearily. Alison thought she had had two chances, and the most prized of them was now a richer offer than she ever deemed it could be; but this was the one her father chose to ignore as no chance at all. 'I have read, papa,' said she, 'that those "who have neither character nor conscience may drift, or let others shape the course for them; but the great thing is to be true to yourself."' 'Yourself--and some penniless cur, like that at Aldershot! Go--I am disgusted!' exclaimed Sir Ranald, with a sudden gush of querulous anger. Alison remained silent. She knew not that the fatal end was drawing so near now, otherwise she must have temporised with him more; and she thought-- 'But for my love for Bevil, to please papa I might have yielded--so many girls are drawn or thrust into hateful or grotesque marriages by want of money, friends, or a home.' But when she thought this, Alison was ignorant of what so many knew, and her father should have known--the private character of Lord Cadbury, or rather his want of it, as he was simply an old _vaurien_.