“You have said enough, Alice,” said Julian, with sparkling eyes; “you have said enough in deprecating my urgency, and I will press you no farther. But you overrate the impediments which lie betwixt us--they must and shall give way.” “So you said before,” answered Alice, “and with what probability, your own account may show. You dared not to mention the subject to your own father--how should you venture to mention it to mine?” “That I will soon enable you to decide upon. Major Bridgenorth, by my mother’s account, is a worthy and an estimable man. I will remind him, that to my mother’s care he owes the dearest treasure and comfort of his life; and I will ask him if it is a just retribution to make that mother childless. Let me but know where to find him, Alice, and you shall soon hear if I have feared to plead my cause with him.” “Alas!” answered Alice, “you well know my uncertainty as to my dear father’s residence. How often has it been my earnest request to him that he would let me share his solitary abode, or his obscure wanderings! But the short and infrequent visits which he makes to this house are all that he permits me of his society. Something I might surely do, however little, to alleviate the melancholy by which he is oppressed.” “Something we might both do,” said Peveril. “How willingly would I aid you in so pleasing a task! All old griefs should be forgotten--all old friendships revived. My father’s prejudices are those of an Englishman--strong, indeed, but not insurmountable by reason. Tell me, then, where Major Bridgenorth is, and leave the rest to me; or let me but know by what address your letters reach him, and I will forthwith essay to discover his dwelling.” “Do not attempt it, I charge you,” said Alice. “He is already a man of sorrows; and what would he think were I capable of entertaining a suit so likely to add to them? Besides, I could not tell you, if I would, where he is now to be found. My letters reach him from time to time, by means of my aunt Christian; but of his address I am entirely ignorant.” “Then, by Heaven,” answered Julian, “I will watch his arrival in this island, and in this house; and ere he has locked thee in his arms, he shall answer to me on the subject of my suit.” “Then demand that answer now,” said a voice from without the door, which was at the same time slowly opened--“Demand that answer now, for here stands Ralph Bridgenorth.” As he spoke, he entered the apartment with his usual slow and sedate step--raised his flapp’d and steeple-crowned hat from his brows, and, standing in the midst of the room, eyed alternately his daughter and Julian Peveril with a fixed and penetrating glance. “Father!” said Alice, utterly astonished, and terrified besides, by his sudden appearance at such a conjuncture,--“Father, I am not to blame.” “Of that anon, Alice,” said Bridgenorth; “meantime retire to your apartment--I have that to say to this youth which will not endure your presence.”