"We can work, dear father—we can toil for our livelihood! But, no—never should you be reduced to such a painful necessity, so long as your daughter has health and strength to labour for our mutual support!" exclaimed the excellent-hearted girl. "Oh! let us fly—let us quit this country—let us repair to France! I have some few accomplishments—drawing—music—a knowledge of all the branches of needlework; and it will be hard indeed if I cannot earn enough to procure us bread."
"No—no, Rosamond—it cannot be!" said Mr. Torrens, tears now trickling down his cheeks—for the better he became acquainted with the admirable traits of his daughter's character—traits which adversity, misfortune, and danger now developed—the more bitterly did his heart smite him for the awful treachery he had perpetrated with regard to her.
"And wherefore is it impossible?" she asked. "Consider, my dear father, by what circumstances you are now surrounded. On one side is Jeffreys whom you dare not offend—whom you cannot discharge—and from whose ruffianism your daughter is not safe. On the other side, is this marriage with Mrs. Slingsby—a marriage which I now perceive to be forced upon you—a marriage that will bring into this house a person whom neither of us can ever love or respect!"
"Enough! enough! Rosamond," exclaimed Mr. Torrens: "all these sad things—these dangers and these sacrifices—have become interwoven with the destiny which it is mine to fulfil; and I must pursue my painful course—follow on my sad career, in the best manner that I may. I cannot risk starvation in a foreign land—I could not support an existence maintained by the toils of my daughter. Besides, I am confident of being able to realise a fortune by my speculations in this neighbourhood. Here, then, must I remain. And now, Rosamond, it remains for you to decide whether you will receive the mother-in-law whom imperious circumstances force upon you—or whether you will abandon your father!"
"Never, never will I leave you!" cried the affectionate girl, throwing her arms around her parent's neck, and embracing him tenderly.
The interview—the painful interview between the father and his child then terminated. The former retired to his own apartment, a prey to feelings of the most harrowing nature; and the latter sought her couch, to which slumber was brought through sheer exhaustion.
But the horrors of the early portion of the night were perpetuated in her dreams!
CHAPTER LXXXII.
THE FORGED CHEQUE.
Oh! what a strange, and, at the same time, what a wondrous world is this in which we live;—and how marvellous is human progress! The utmost attainments effected by the wisdom of our ancestors were but ignorance and short-sightedness compared with the knowledge of the present day. Antiquity had its grand intellects and its sublime geniuses; but it furnished not the same abundance of materials to act upon as is afforded by the discoveries and likewise by the spirit of this age!
But are we proportionately happier, on this account, than were our forefathers? Is the working-man, for instance, more prosperous, more comfortable, more enviable as to his condition, than the aboriginal Briton who lived in a cave or the hollow of a tree, and who painted his body to protect it against the cold?