He turned over his newspaper, and began running down the list of marriages.
“Here they are,” he muttered, “all going the same way,” and he stood musing sadly upon the question of the young women’s quitting the old hives, till the door was opened again and Edie Perrin ushered in her cousin, tall, graceful, and with that indescribable look of love and happiness seen in a bride’s eyes on her wedding morn.
“Here she is, uncle,” cried Edie, who then uttered a sob, and rushed away with a rustling noise to hide the tears she could not restrain.
“My darling!” cried the old man huskily as he drew his child to his breast; “and am I to feel that it is quite right, and that you are happy?”
“Oh, so happy, father; so content at last—at last,” she whispered as she clung to him lovingly. “Only there is one thing.”
“Eh? What—what?” cried the admiral excitedly.
“Leaving home and you.”
The old man drew a deep breath full of relief.
“Oh, pooh, pooh, nonsense, my pet,” he cried, looking at her beautiful pensive face proudly; “don’t mind that; I’m glad of it.”
“Glad, father?”