Not a sixpence beyond that one advance of the two hundred pounds had the bailiff been able to extort from his son-in-law.
It was the price that Mr.Whitelaw had paid for his wife, and he meant to pay no more.

He told William Carley as much one day when the question of money matters was pushed rather too far--told him in the plainest language.
This was hard; but that two hundred pounds had saved the bailiff from imminent destruction.

He was obliged to be satisfied with this advantage, and to bide his time.
"I'll have it out of the mean hound sooner or later," he muttered to himself as he walked homewards, after a social evening with the master of Wyncomb.
One evening Mr.Carley brought his daughter a letter.

It was from Gilbert Fenton, who was quite unaware of Ellen's marriage, and had written to her at the Grange.

This letter afforded her the only pleasure she had known since fate had united her to Stephen Whitelaw.