lf.
These stories are lies, every one of them! Lady Rosemary is the
daughter of my dearest, my dead friend. Very soon, she will be your
sister."

"Yes! I know,--so let us not say any more about it. It is Harry and
she for it, and, if they are pleased and an old whim of yours
satisfied,--what matters it to an ordinary, easy-going, pipe-loving,
cold-blooded fellow like me?"

"Whim, did you say? Whim?" cried my father, flaring up and clenching
his hands excitedly. "Do you call the vow of a Brammerton a whim? The
pledged word of a Granton a whim? Whim, be damned."

For want of words to express himself, my father dropped into a chair
and drummed his agitated fingers on the arms of it.

I rose and went over to him, laying my hand lightly on his shoulder.

Poor old dad! I had not meant to hurt his feelings. After all, he was
the dearest of old-fashioned fellows and I loved his haughty,
mid-Victorian ways.

"There, there, father,--I did not mean to say anything that would give
offence. I take it all back. I am sorry,--indeed I am."

He looked up at me and his face brightened once more.

"'Gad, boy,--I'm glad to hear you say it. I know you did not mean
anything by your bruskness. You are an impetuous, headstrong young
devil though,--with a touch of your mother in you,--and, 'gad, if I
don't like you the more for it.

"But, but," he went on, looking in front of him, "you must remember
that although Granton and I were mere boys at the time our vow was
made,--he was a Granton and I a Brammerton, whose vows are made to
keep. It seems like yesterday, George; it was a few hours after he
saved my life in the fighting before Sevastopol. We were sitting by
the camp-fire. The chain-shot was still flying around. The cries of
the wounded were in our ears. The sentries were challenging
continually and drums were rolling in the distance.

"I clasped Fred's hand and I thanked him for what he had done for me
that day, right in the teeth of the Russian guns.

"'Freddy, old chap, you're a trump,' I said, 'and, if ever I be blessed
with an heir to Brammerton and Hazelmere, I would wish nothing better
than that he should marry a Granton.'

"'And nothing would please me so much, Harry, old boy,--as that a maid
of Granton should wed a Brammerton,' he answered earnestly.

"'Then it's a go,' said I, full of enthusiasm.

"'It's a go, Harry.'

"And we raised our winecups, such as they were.

"'Your daughter, Fred!'