"That is why I was going up to town to-day. But my debt far exceeds that sum." "By how much?" The rector rarely demanded any details of his wife's money-affairs, or troubled how she spent her private income. But the time for ceremony was past. There was a haggard perplexity in his look, and an expression of fear in his eyes. "Nearly two thousand, John." "For dresses--only dresses?" With a sigh, the rector dropped into his chair. After a moment's despondency, he commenced to make calculations on his blotting-pad, while Mary stood looking out of the window, crying a little and shaping a new resolve. It was useless to go to her dressmaker with empty hands, and the everlasting cry for money could only be silenced by the one person who held it all--her father. Once more, rage against him surged up in her heart, and she relieved her pent-up feelings in the usual way. "Oh, it is shameful, shameful! Father is to blame--father! He's driving us to ruin. There's nothing too bad one can say about him. He deserves to be robbed of his miserly hoard." "Hush, hush, dearest," murmured the rector; "your father's money is his own, not ours. If he were to find out that you had pledged your jewels, there's no knowing what he might not do." "Do! What could he do?" she replied, with a mirthless laugh. "A man can't prosecute his own child." "Some men can, and do. Your father is just the sort to outrage all family sentiment, and defy public opinion." "You don't think that!" she cried, turning around on him very suddenly, with a terrified look in her eyes. They were interrupted by a tap at the door. "A gentleman to see you, sir; at least, sir, to see Mr. Dick." The manservant's manner was halting and embarrassed. "What does he want with Mr. Dick?" "Well, sir, he says--" "Well, what does he say?" The man looked at his master and mistress hesitatingly, as though he would rather not speak. "He says, sir--" "Well?" "That he has come to arrest him--but he would like to see you first." "There must be some mistake. Send him in." A thick-set, burly, bearded man entered, hat in hand, bowed curtly to the rector, and endeavored to bow more ceremoniously to Mrs. Swinton, who stood glaring at him in fear. "Why have you come?" asked the rector. "Well, there's a warrant. It has been reported he was going to skip." "Why have you come so soon? I only received Wise's letter this morning." "It was sent the day before yesterday." The rector picked up the letter, and found that it was dated two days ago. "There was evidently a delay in transmission. What are we to do?" asked the clergyman, turning to his wife despairingly. She stood white and irresolute. It was a most humiliating moment. She longed to call her manservant to turn the fellow out of doors, but she dared not.