r. "I never imagined that you could
possibly misunderstand me."

"But, confound you, I did, sir. What the devil do you mean by
blundering out such a lame tale as that?"

"Want me, uncle dear?" said Edie, entering the room.

"No, no, my dear. Run along upstairs. You're not wanted. I have
business with Mr Stratton here."

Edie darted a frightened glance from the choleric, flushed countenance
of her uncle to Stratton's, which was almost white.

"Oh, poor Mr Stratton," she thought as she drew back. "Then he did not
know before."

The door closed, and Sir Mark turned upon Stratton fiercely.

"Why, confound you, sir!" he began; but the despairing face before him
was disarming. "No, no," he cried, calming down; "no use to get in a
passion about it. Poor lad! poor lad!" he muttered. Then aloud: "You
were speaking, then, of Myra--my daughter--all the time?"

"Yes." Only that word in a despondent tone, for he could read rejection
in every line of the old sailor's face.

"But I always thought--oh, what a confounded angle. This is not men's
work. Why isn't Rebecca here? Mr Stratton, this is all a horrible
blunder. Surely Myra--my daughter--never encouraged you to hope?"

"Never, sir; but I did hope and believe. Let me see her, Sir Mark. I
thought I was explicit, but we have been playing at cross purposes.
Yes; ask Miss Jerrold to see me here--in your presence. Surely it is
not too late to remedy such a terrible mistake."

"But it is too late, Mr Stratton; and really I don't think I could ever
have agreed to such an engagement, even if my child had been willing."

"Sir Mark!" pleaded Stratton.

"For Heaven's sake, let's bring it to an end, sir. I never imagined
such a thing. Why, man, then all the time you were making friends with
one cousin, so as to get her on your side."

"I don't know--was I?" said Stratton dejectedly.

"Of course, sir. Acting the timid lover with the old result!" cried Sir
Mark angrily.

Stratton gazed excitedly in his face; there was so much meaning in his
words.

"There," continued the admiral; "but it must come, sir, and you must
bear it like a man. My child, Myra, has accepted my friend Mr Barron,
and the marriage is to take place almost at once."

Stratton stood for a few moments gazing in Sir Mark's face, as if he
failed to grasp the full tenor of his words. Then, turning slowly, and
without a word, he left the room, walked back to his quaint, panelled
chambers