"Then you have formed an acquaintance with him?" exclaimed Mrs. Slingsby.
"An acquaintance!" cried the baronet, chuckling; "I have formed an intimate friendship."
"What! in four or five weeks!" said Mrs. Slingsby.
"Exactly so. I obtained an introduction to him through his surveyor, who also happens to be mine; and under pretence of bargaining with him for the purchase of some of his houses, I wormed myself into his confidence. He at length informed me that there were heavy mortgages on all his buildings, and that he was anxious to sell some in order to be able to proceed with others. When I encountered the young ladies, I affected to be greatly surprised that they should prove to be the daughters of the very Mr. Torrens to whom my surveyor had recommended me."
"You have worked systematically indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Slingsby, with pouting lips. "But pray proceed."
"Sometimes I was enabled, when I called," continued the baronet, "to obtain a few minutes' conversation with Rosamond alone; for Adelais, the elder sister, usually remains in her own chamber, a prey to the deepest melancholy. But Rosamond never appeared to comprehend any of the significant though well wrapt up hints which I dropped relative to my feelings concerning her. It is evident that you proved either a bad tutoress, Martha, or she a dull pupil."
"I presume you are coming to a crisis, Henry," said Mrs. Slingsby; "for your narrative is somewhat of the most tedious."
"I will endeavour to render it a little more interesting," observed the baronet complacently. "A few days ago I called at Torrens Cottage, and found the house in the greatest confusion. An execution had been levied in the morning, and the broker was there, putting a value upon the property. Mr. Torrens was in a state of dark and sombre despair; the young ladies were in their own apartment. I had a long private conversation with the father. He made me acquainted with the entire position of his affairs; and I discovered that five thousand pounds would be required to redeem him from utter ruin. It was then that I gradually unveiled my purposes—it was then that I dropped mysterious hints of my objects and views. At first he was astounded when the light began to dawn upon him, and he caught a glimpse of my meaning; but as I carelessly displayed a roll of notes before him, he grew attentive, and appeared to reflect profoundly."
"The man who deliberates, is lost," said Mrs. Slingsby, quoting the hackneyed proverb, and shuddering—bad, criminal, worthless as she was—at the tremendous amount of guilt which she now more than half suspected to be already perpetrated, or at all events to be approaching its consummation.
"While we were yet far from coming to an open explanation," continued the baronet, as calmly as if he were narrating a history of but little moment, "an event occurred which hastened the affair to the catastrophe that I contemplated. A sheriff's officer entered and arrested Mr. Torrens for a considerable amount—seven hundred pounds. The execution levied on the property in the house was for three hundred and forty; and thus he required an immediate advance of upwards of a thousand pounds to save himself from a prison, and his furniture from a public sale in due course. I requested the officer to withdraw from the room for a few minutes, stating who I was, and pledging myself that Mr. Torrens should not attempt to escape. I will not tell you all that then took place between me and the father of those girls: let it suffice for you to learn, that at the expiration of nearly an hour's discourse—varied on his part by appeals, threats, prayers, and imprecations—he agreed to sell his daughter Rosamond!"