At this moment her father tapped at the door, and on being admitted, ordered Alice to leave the room; he wished to have some private conversation, he said, with her mistress.

“Don’t make it long, if you please, sir,” said she, “for my mistress won’t be aquil to it.  It’s more at the point of death than the point of marriage she is.”

One stern look from the baronet, however, silenced her in a moment, and after a glance of most affectionate interest at her mistress she left the room.

“Lucy,” said her father, after contemplating that aspect of misery which could not be concealed, “I am not at all pleased with this girlish and whining appearance.  I have done all that man could do to meet your wishes and to make you happy.  I have become reconciled to your aunt for your sake.  I have allowed her and Mrs. Norton—­Mainwaring I mean—­to be present at your wedding, that they might support and give you confidence.  You are about to be married to a handsome young fellow, only a little wild, but who will soon make you a countess.  Now, in God’s name, what more do you want?”

“I think,” she replied, “that I ought not to marry this man.  I believe that I stand justified in the sight of God and man in refusing to seal my own misery.  The promise I made you, sir, was given under peculiar circumstances—­under terror of your death.  These circumstances are now removed, and it is cruel to call on me to make a sacrifice that is a thousand times worse than death.  No, papa, I will not marry this depraved man—­this common seducer.  I shall never unite myself to him, let the consequences be what they may.  There is a line beyond which parental authority ought not to go—­you have crossed it.”

“Be it so, madam; I shall see you again in a few minutes,” he replied, and immediately left the room, his face almost black with rage and disappointment.  Lucy grew alarmed at the terrible abruptness and significance of his manner, and began to tremble, although she knew not why.

“Can I violate my promise,” said she to herself, “after having made it so solemnly?  And ought I to marry this man in obedience to my father?  Alas!  I know not; but may heaven direct me for the best!  If I thought it would make papa happy—­but his is a restless and ambitious spirit, and how can I be certain of that?  May heaven direct me and guide me!”

In a few minutes afterwards her father returned, and taking out of his pockets a pair of pistols, laid them on the table.

“Now, Lucy,” said he solemnly, and with a vehemence of manner almost frantic, “we will see if you cannot yet save your father’s life, or whether you will prefer to have his blood on your soul.”

“For heaven’s sake, papa,” said his daughter, running to him, and throwing or attempting to throw her arms about him, partly, in the moment of excitement, to embrace, and partly to restrain him.