Stephen Whitelaw
would lend me the money--give it me, indeed, for it comes to that--the
day he gets your consent to be his wife."
"And you'd sell me to him for two hundred pounds, father?" the girl asked
bitterly.
"I don't want to go to gaol."
"And if you don't get the money from Stephen, what will happen?"
"I can't tell you that to a nicety. Penal servitude for life, most
likely. They'd call mine a bad case, I daresay."
"But Sir David might be merciful to you, father. You've served him for
along time."
"What would he care for that? I've had his money, and he's not a man that
can afford to lose much. No, Nell, I look for no mercy from Sir David;
those careless easy-going men are generally the hardest in such a
business as this. It's a clear case of embezzlement, and nothing can save
me unless I can raise money enough to satisfy him."
"Couldn't you borrow it of some one else besides Stephen Whitelaw?"
"Who else is there that would lend me two hundred pounds? Ask yourself
that, girl. Why, I haven't five pounds' worth of security to offer."
"And Mr. Whitelaw will only lend the money upon one condition?"
"No, curse him!" cried William Carley savagely. "I've been at him all
this afternoon, when you and that woman were out of the room, trying to
get it out of him as a loan, without waiting for your promise; but he's
too cautious for that.
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