“Loyal girl,” said the father, when the door had closed behind her; “she will stand by me yet. After all, Ratman has his good points—clever, cheerful, good man of business—”
Here abruptly the soliloquy ended, and Captain Oliphant buried his face in his hands, a miserable man.
To Rosalind, as she walked rapidly across the park, there came but one thought. Her father—how could she help him? how could she save him, not so much from his debts as from the depths into which they were plunging him?
“My poor father,” said she. “Only a man in desperate plight could think of such a remedy. He never meant it. He does not really suppose—no, no; he said he did not ask anything. He told me because I asked. Poor darling father!”
And with something very like a sob she hurried on to Yeld.
She went straight to Dr Brandram’s.
“Well, my dear young lady, it does one good to see you back,” said he; “but bless me, how pale you look.”
“Do I? I’m quite well, thank you. Dr Brandram,” said she, “do you know anything about this Mr Ratman?”
The Doctor stared at this abrupt inquiry.
“Nothing more than you and every one else does—that he is a rank impostor!”