"You did not think to see me here," said Goldie, grasping his hand; "but I have come upon business, urgent business, Aleck. Sit down, my dear boy, I will let you know all. I could not rest till I had consulted with you."
Aleck throw himself down again on his luxurious arm-chair, with an uncomfortable persuasion that something disagreeable was coming, us his father drew from the pocket of his coat a letter, which he knew to be in the handwriting of his brother.
"That will tell its own tale," said Goldie, handing it with a sigh to his son.
Frowning and biting his lip, Aleck read the letter to himself "This is bad indeed—very bad," he said, as he handed it back to his father. "What an unreasonable sum he requires—he shows very little consideration for you."
"And I have not the money!" cried Goldie, earnestly. "I really have not the money, were it to save him from the gallows. My house did not let well this year—the season is over—I have had heavy expenses—poor Ned's funeral—your mother's constant illness—everything seems to go wrong with me now! Your brother's ruined—positively ruined, if he cannot command this large sum, and I've no one to look to—but you."
"Me!" exclaimed Aleck, raising his eyebrows, and pushing back his chair a little. "It is impossible that I can help you, quite impossible; you had better understand that clearly at once; I have a wife to think of, you know."
"He is your only brother now—"
"An extravagant, unprincipled fellow! Are those who have gone on steadily through life to pay for the follies of such!"
"If you would but assist me—"
"I tell you, it's impossible!" cried Aleck, raising his voice.