'But, papa,' she said, with pallid lips, 'I love—Bevil.'
'It has come to this—an engagement?'
'Yes, papa, I cannot deceive you.'
'An engagement—a secret one—without my knowledge; how dared you?'
'I promised to wait for a year—he asked me only a year—and he loves me so much!'
'No doubt,' snarled Sir Ranald, through his set teeth. 'People cannot live on love, however, and your friend "Bevil," as you call him, cannot pay my debts.'
'Oh, would that he could do so!'
'Till recently you have always been accustomed to luxury and ease. These Cadbury lays at your feet, offering you—who by position and education are unfit to be a poor man's wife—absolute splendour.'
'But Bevil is not so poor as you think, and, moreover, may be richer in time,' urged Alison, piteously; 'he has prospects, expectations——'
'Of course—what sharper is without them?—and for the realization of these visions you would be waiting to the sacrifice of your youth, your beauty, and your poor old father's few remaining years.'