er."

"This grand old house," continued the general as if he had heard him
not, "this estate, with all its beauty of domains, that was presented to
my ancestors by Charles the First himself, with its lands and its lakes,
its gardens and its trees, and which was prized by my father almost as
much as our ancient home in the Highlands of Scotland, has been wasted,
has been frittered away, through my intrinsic folly."

"Sir, sir," said Richards, "you are too hard on yourself now."

"Nay, my good friend, nay; that I cannot be. You have ever been faithful
to our family; but I repeat it before you, and before my only son and
daughter here: the estates are lost through my own folly, and through
the imbecility, the madness, Richards, of my pride. Now in a month's
time, if I do not pay off the mortgage, Keane, your partner, will
foreclose."

It was at this moment that Jack sprang up from his seat as though a
serpent had stung him. He took a few rapid strides up and down the
floor, then, his calmness in some degree restored, he confronted the
general.

"Did you say Keane would foreclose, father--Keane?"

"I said Keane, boy--Griffin, Keane, and Co. The old man Keane is my only
creditor. But why should the knowledge of this affect you so?"

"Because, father--and oh, forgive me, for I ought to have told you
before--because the heartless old man has been playing for your estates;
he has won, and he has in a manner ruined you. But his daughter Gerty
has been playing a crueller game than even his: she has won my heart,
and having won it, having torn it from me, she has trampled it bleeding
under foot. I can never love again."

"My boy, my poor boy, is this indeed so? How great is your sorrow and
suffering compared with mine! Bah! let the estate go. I could feel happy
now without it could I but believe that you would forget the heartless
minx who has dared to gain your love then spurn it. You _will_ forget
her?"

"Never, father, never; that is impossible. Sword in hand on the
battle-deck I shall seek surcease of sorrow, but forget little Gerty
Keane, never, never, never!"

The young man covered his face with his hands, and his form heaved with
suppressed emotion, and even the kindly-hearted Richards could but look
on in silence. Not a word of consolation could he adduce that had the
power to assuage grief so deep as this.

No one spoke for many minutes--sorrow is oftentimes too deep for
words--but higher and higher in the c