he listening to Fluff, or
waiting for Frances? She felt like a person struggling through a
horrible nightmare.

"I thought we lived within our means," she said, faintly.

"Just like you--women are always imagining things. We have no means to
live on; your mother's money has long vanished--it was lost in that
silver mine in Peru. And the greater part of the six thousand pounds
lent by Spens has one way or another pretty nearly shared the same fate.
I've been a very unlucky man, Frances, and if your mother were here,
she'd pity me. I've had no one to sympathize with me since her death."

"I do, father," said his daughter. She went up and put her arms round
his old neck. "It was a shock, and I felt half stunned. But I fully
sympathize."

"Not that I am going to sell the Firs," said the squire, not returning
Frances's embrace, but allowing her to take his limp hand within her
own. "No, no; I've no idea of that. Spens and his client, whoever he is,
must wait for their money, and that's what you have got to see him
about, Frances. Come, now, you must make the best terms you can with
Spens--a woman can do what she likes with a man when she knows how to
manage."

"But what am I to say, father?"

"Say? Why, that's your lookout. Never heard of a woman yet who couldn't
find words. Say? Anything in the world you please, provided you give him
to clearly to understand that come what may I will not sell the Firs."

Frances stood still for two whole minutes. During this time she was
thinking deeply--so deeply that she forgot the man who was waiting
outside--she forgot everything but the great and terrible fact that,
notwithstanding all her care and all her toil, beggary was staring them
in the face.

"I will see Mr. Spens," she said at last, slowly: "it is not likely that
I shall be able to do much. If you have mortgaged the Firs to this
client of Mr. Spens, he will most probably require you to sell, in order
to realize his money; but I will see him, and let you know the result."

"You had better order the gig, then, and go now; he is sure to be in at
this hour. Oh, you want to talk to the man that you fancy is in love
with you; but lovers can wait, and business can't. Understand clearly,
once for all, Frances, that if the Firs is sold, I die."

"Dear father," said Frances--again she took his unwilling hand in
hers--"do you suppose I want the Firs to be sold? Don't I love every
stone of the old place, and every flower that