"I can save you the trouble, then," replied Mr. Radford, drily. "I am ruined. That is to say, in the two last ventures I have lost considerably more than a hundred thousand pounds."
Sir Robert Croyland waved his head sadly, saying, "Terrible, terrible! but what can be done?"
"Oh, several things," answered Mr. Radford, "and that is what I have come to speak to you about, because the first must rest with you, my excellent good friend."
"But where is your son, poor fellow?" asked the baronet, eager to avoid, as long as possible, the point to which their conversation was tending. "They tell me he was well nigh taken; and, after there has been blood shed, that would have been destruction. Do you know they came and searched this house for him?"
"No, I had not heard of that, Croyland," replied Mr. Radford; "but he is near enough, well enough, and safe enough to marry your fair daughter."
"Ay, yes," answered Sir Robert; "that must be thought of, and----."
"Oh dear, no!" cried the other, interrupting him; "it has been thought of enough already, Croyland--too much, perhaps; now, it must be done."
"Well, I will go over to Edith at once," said the baronet, "and I will urge her, by every inducement. I will tell her, that it is her duty, that it is my will, and that she must and shall obey."
Mr. Radford rose slowly off his seat, crossed over the rug to the place where Sir Robert Croyland was placed; and, leaning his hand upon the arm of the other's chair, he bent down his head, saying in a low but very clear voice and perfectly distinct words, "Tell her, her father's life depends upon it!"
Sir Robert Croyland shrank from him, as if an asp had approached his cheek; and he turned deadly pale. "No, Radford--no," he replied, in a faltering and deprecatory tone; "you cannot mean such a horrible thing. I will do all that I can to make her yield--I will, indeed--I will insist--I will----"