"I think we had," said Fluff; "for as what I have got to say will
startle you a good deal, you had better sit in your favorite arm-chair,
and have some water near you in case you feel faint."

As she spoke she took his hand, led him through the French windows into
his little parlor, and seated him comfortably in his favorite chair.

"Now I'll begin," said Fluff. "You must not interrupt me, although I'm
afraid you will be a little startled. You have mortgaged the Firs for
six thousand pounds."

"My dear Ellen!"--an angry flush rose in the squire's cheeks. "Who has
informed you with regard to my private affairs? Frances has done very--"

"Frances has had nothing to say to it; I won't go on if you interrupt
me. You have mortgaged the Firs for six thousand pounds, to some people
of the name of Dawson & Blake, in London. Frances lives at Arden, in
order to pay them three hundred pounds a year interest on the mortgage."

"Yes, yes; really, Frances--really, Spens--"

"Now do stop talking; how can I tell my story if you interrupt every
minute? Messrs. Dawson & Blake were very anxious to get back their
money, and they wanted to sell the Firs in order to realize it. Mr.
Spens had the greatest work in the world to get them to accept Frances's
noble offer. He put tremendous pressure to bear, and at last, very
unwillingly, they yielded."

"Well, well, my dear"--the squire wiped the moisture from his
brow--"they have yielded, that is the great thing--that is the end of
the story; at least, for the present."

"No, it is not the end of the story," said Fluff, looking up angrily
into the old man's face. "You were quite satisfied, for it seemed all
right to you; you were to stay on quietly here, and have your comforts,
and the life you thought so pleasant; and Frances was to give up Philip
Arnold, whom she loves, and go away to toil and slave and be miserable.
Oh, it was all right for you, but it was bitterly all wrong for
Frances!"

"My dear little Fluff, my dear Ellen, pray try and compose yourself; I
assure you my side of the bargain is dull, very dull. I am alone; I
have no companionship. Not a living soul who cares for me is now to be
found at the Firs. My side is not all sunshine, Fluff; and I own
it--yes, I will own it, Fluff; I miss Frances very much."

"I am glad of that; I am very glad. Now I am coming to the second part
of my story. A week ago Mr. Spens had a letter from Messrs. Dawson &
Blake to say that they had