pompous. He was
also the father of Aileen.

Behold him seated in an elegant drawing-room, in a splendid mansion at
the "west end" (strange that all aristocratic ends would appear to be
west ends!) of the seaport town which owned him. His blooming daughter
sat beside him at a table, on which lay a small, peculiar, box. He
doated on his daughter, and with good reason. Their attention was so
exclusively taken up with the peculiar box that they had failed to
observe the entrance, unannounced, of a man of rough exterior, who stood
at the door, hat in hand, bowing and coughing attractively, but without
success.

"My darling," said Mr Hazlit, stooping to kiss his child--his only
child--who raised her pretty little three-cornered mouth to receive it,
"this being your twenty-first birthday, I have at last brought myself to
look once again on your sainted mother's jewel-case, in order that I may
present it to you. I have not opened it since the day she died. It is
now yours, my child."

Aileen opened her eyes in mute amazement. It would seem as though there
had been some secret sympathy between her and the man at the door, for
he did precisely the same thing. He also crushed his hat somewhat
convulsively with both hands, but without doing it any damage, as it was
a very hard sailor-like hat. He also did something to his lips with his
tongue, which looked a little like licking them.

"Oh papa!" exclaimed Aileen, seizing his hand, "how kind; how--"

"Nay, love, no thanks are due to me. It is your mother's gift. On her
deathbed she made me promise to give it you when you came of age, and to
train you, up to that age, as far as possible, with a disregard for
dress and show. I think your dear mother was wrong," continued Mr
Hazlit, with a mournful smile, "but, whether right or wrong, you can
bear me witness that I have sought to fulfil the second part of her
dying request, and I now accomplish the first."

He proceeded to unlock, the fastenings of the little box, which was made
of some dark metal resembling iron, and was deeply as well as richly
embossed on the lid and sides with quaint figures and devices.

Mr Hazlit had acquired a grand, free-handed way of manipulating
treasure. Instead of lifting the magnificent jewels carefully from the
casket, he tumbled them out like a gorgeous cataract of light and
colour, by the simple process of turning the box upside down.

"Oh papa, take care!" exclaimed Aileen, spread