that I must repay the whole amount. I did not consider this as serious, and I sought to stay it off. The messenger who has now come from Exeter, comes with a final demand for the entire sum. The times are precarious. The Duke of Monmouth has landed. No one knows what will happen, and the mortgagee calls in his money. I have not got it." "Then what is to be done?" Bessie became white as the wax of the candle, and the flame flickered because the candle shook in her hand. "Only one thing can be done. Only you can save Hall--save me." "I! Oh, my father!" Bessie's heart stood still, she feared what she should hear. "Only you can save us," pursued the old man. "You and I will be driven out of this place, will lose Hall, lose the acres that for three centuries have been dressed with our sweat, lose the roof that has covered the Cleverdons for many generations, unless you save us." "But--how, father?" she asked, yet knew what the answer would be. "You must marry Anthony Crymes at once. Then only shall we be safe, for the Crymes family will find the money required to secure Hall." "Father," pleaded Bessie, "ask for help from some one else! Borrow the money elsewhere." "In times such as this, when we are trembling in revolution, and none knows what the issue will be, no one will lend money. I have no friend save Squire Crymes. There is no help to be had anywhere else. Here"--said the old man, irritably--"here are a bundle of accounts of moneys owed to me, that I cannot get back now. I have sent round to those in my debt, and it is the same cry from all. The times are against us--wait till all is smooth, and then we will pay. In the mean time my state is desperate. I offered to Anthony but this day to forgive the past and receive him back to Hall--but the offer came too late. Hall is lost to him, lost to you, lost to me, lost forever, unless you say yea." "Oh, Luke! Luke!" cried Bessie; "let me speak first with him;" then suddenly changed her mind and tone, "Oh, no! I must not speak to him--to him above all, about this." "Bessie!" said the old man; his tone was altered from that which was usual to him. He had hectored and domineered over her, had shown her little kindness and small regard, but now he spoke in a subdued manner, with entreaty. "Bessie! look at my grey hairs. I had hoped that all future generations of Cleverdons would have thought of me with pride, as he who made the family; but, instead, they will curse me as he who cast it forth from its home and brought it to destruction." Bessie did not speak, her eyes were on the candle, the flame was nigh on sinking, a gap had formed under the wick, and the wax was running down into the socket as water in a well.