'In the hope that you might yet learn to love him—indeed upon the faith that you would do so yet'—said Sir Ranald, after a pause, 'he has made me, kindly and generously, heavy advances, which I have lost unwisely, and am totally unable to repay. How then am I to act? I can but look to you to listen to him patiently and, with some consideration for me, if he speaks of his love to you again, Alison.'
To the latter it seemed that it was always himself, not her, that he considered in this proposed matrimonial bargain.
The old man was very white; his thin lips were tremulous with earnestness; his china-blue eyes lowered beneath the glance of his daughter, and his naturally proud heart was wrung with pain at the admissions he was making.
She remained silent.
'You can have no previous—no secret attachment, Alison?' said Sir Ranald, after another pause.
The existence of one dearer to her than her own life was ignored in this question.
What was she to reply? but reply she must, as he was eyeing her keenly, and even suspiciously.
'Do not be angry with me, dearest papa, but Lord Cadbury I never, never could learn to love,' she urged.
'And what about this fellow Goring?' he exclaimed, sternly, as he thought suddenly of many presents of flowers and music, with Punch's and Graphics, &c.
'Goring,' she repeated, growing deadly pale, even to the lips.