‘Do not leave me, father !’ Amy shrieked forth, clinging around him to prevent his departure.  ’I will share a prison with you, if such he the dreadful alternative.  I will labour for your support; but do not—­do not leave me.’

Beaufort shook her from him with a violence which threw her to the ground.  ‘Go, wretched girl!’ he vociferated as he descended the stairs; ‘you have been my ruin.’  It was the last words he addressed to her—­they met no more.

Scarcely allowing herself to believe that her father would not repent of his determination to leave the country, Amy awaited with intense anxiety the event of the evening.  The shades of twilight fell, but he appeared not.  The guests he had invited arrived; still he did not return.  She was obliged to send an apology for her absence; for she was really ill, and felt unequal to the trial of meeting the baronet in her present agitated state of mind.

The morning brought a confirmation of her worst fears.  A rumour of Beaufort’s sudden flight had gone abroad, owing to his absence from his guests; and the consequence was, that creditors poured in from all quarters.  Amy met the emergency with a presence of mind she was herself surprised at.  Her first care was to have all the effects sold, that the debts might be liquidated as far as possible; but now, to her unspeakable concern, she discovered that her father had carried off the principal part of the plate and small valuables.  She next met her late suitor, Sir Philip Rushwood, and after soliciting an account of the sums due to him by her parent, declared her intention of refunding them from the labours of her own hands.  ’I may perhaps make trial of your patience by some delay, Sir Philip,’ she said; ’but so far as my receipts will allow, no one shall be the loser from having placed confidence in my unhappy father.  Had I accepted your addresses, you would have had reason to despise me; but I am not so base as to form a union in which my heart has no share.’

The baronet was astonished.  He had hitherto formed a mean opinion of the female character, having been incessantly beset by manoeuvring mammas with marriageable daughters ever since he became possessed of his fortune.  His desire to win the beautiful young artist, who never appeared so lovely as at this moment, increased; but he felt that he dared not urge his suit after this declaration.

Amy now sought the home of her early friend; and, deserted by her only natural protector, thought herself justified in consenting to become the wife of Herbert Lyddiard when circumstances would admit of the union taking place.  She employed herself indefatigably at the easel; and Sir Philip Rushwood having with some difficulty discovered the mart at which her pictures were exposed for sale, bought them up (though with the strictest secrecy) as fast as she produced them, paying considerably more than the price she hoped to obtain for them.  Herbert was at this period so