CHAPTER XXIX.

ANNA AND CAPTAIN ATHERTON.

Malcolm Everett's engagement with General Fontaine had expired, and
as was his original intention, he started for New York, first seeking
an interview with Mr. and Mrs. Livingstone, of whom he asked their
daughter Anna in marriage, at the same time announcing the startling
fact that they had been engaged for more than a year. "I do not ask
you for her now," said he, "for I am not in a situation to support
her as I would wish to, but that time will come ere long, I trust,
and I can assure you that her happiness shall be the first object of
my life."

There was no cringing on the part of Malcolm Everett. He was unused
to that, and as an equal meets an equal, he met them, made known his
request, and then in silence awaited their answer. Had Mrs.
Livingstone been less indignant, there would undoubtedly have ensued
a clamorous call for hartshorn and vinaigrette, but as it was, she
started up, and confronting the young man, she exclaimed, "How dare
you ask such a thing? _My_ daughter marry _you_!"

"And why not, madam?" he answered, coolly, while Mrs. Livingstone
continued: "_You_, a low-born Yankee, who have been, as it were, an
hireling. _You_ presume to ask for _my_ daughter!"

"I do," he answered calmly, with a quiet smile, ten-fold more
tantalizing than harsh words would have been, "I do. Can I have her
with your consent?"

"Never, so long as I live. I'd sooner see her dead than wedded to
vulgar poverty."

"That is your answer. Very well," said Malcolm, bowing stiffly.
"And now I will hear yours," turning to Mr. Livingstone, who replied,
that "he would leave the matter entirely with his wife--it was
nothing to him--he had nothing personal against Mr. Everett--he
rather liked him than otherwise, but he hardly thought Anna suited to
him, she had been brought up so differently;" and thus evasively
answering, he walked away.

"Cowardly fool!" muttered Mrs. Livingstone, as the door closed upon
him. "If I pretended to be a man, I'd be one;" then turning to
Malcolm, she said, "Is there anything further you wish to say?"

"Nothing," he replied. "I have honorably asked you for your
daughter. You have refused her, and must abide the consequence."

"And pray what may that be?" she asked, and he answered: "She will
soon be of an age to act for herself, and though I would far rather
take her with your consent, I shall not then hesitate to take her
without, if