nt this had not struck him as extraordinary; but now, as his
attention was drawn to her, she dropped her bouquet, and in his effort
to save her from sinking to the pavement the beautiful bunch of flowers
was crushed under foot.

The next minute he had lifted the poor girl into the carriage, and
handed the admiral's stern looking sister to her side.

Darting a look of agony at Edie's white face and the wreath and veil
fallen aside, Guest drew back for the door to be closed, but Miss
Jerrold made an imperious sign.

"No, no; come with us," she said hoarsely. "You must help me; and
explain. I dare not face my brother alone."

Guest sprang into the carriage, the door was shut quickly, and the
footman leaped to his place as the horses started forward with a loud
trampling of hoofs, but not quickly enough to take them beyond the
hearing of a derisive cheer.

CHAPTER FIVE.

A BRAVE DEFENCE.

"The hotel! The idiot! To want to take us back there to face the
half-hidden mockery and jokes of all those strangers. Oh, it's
maddening!"

Sir Mark leaned forward, lowered the front window, and shouted to the
coachman to drive faster.

"I saw them," he continued as he flung himself back in his seat, "the
whole mob in the church sniggling with delight. Curse them! And that
fellow, Stratton! If ever we stand face to face again I'll--Oh, I hope
he will never have the audacity to come near me, for his own sake."

Myra had been sitting perfectly upright, looking as if suffering from
some cataleptic seizure; but at the mention of Stratton she turned and
laid her hand upon her father's arm.

"Oh, yes, of course!" he raged, with a mocking laugh. "Womanlike; a
hundred excuses ready for him: cut himself in shaving--wedding clothes
not home in time--sprained his ankle--a bad headache. Oh, you women,
you women! If ever there were a pack of fools--"

"Father!"

That one word only, but full of so much agony that he turned and caught
her to his breast.

"Brute! Senseless brute!" he literally growled. "Thinking of myself,
of my own feelings, and not of you, my own."

Then raging again, with his countenance purple, and the veins of his
temples starting:

"But you! To insult you, my child, and after that other horrible
affair. How a man--who professed to worship you--could subject you to
such an outrage--to such infamy! I tell you it is maddening."

"Father!" once more in a piteous tone.

"No; you shall not ple