Brought back to his child’s suffering, the admiral hurried her up to the drawing room and let her sink back on a couch. Then, turning to the bell, he was about to ring for help, but Myra rose.
“No; don’t ring,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I’m better now.”
At that moment Miss Jerrold’s carriage stopped at the door, and directly after Sir Mark’s sister appeared with Edie, who, looking white and scared, ran at once to her cousin and clung to her, uttering violent sobs.
“Silence, Edie!” thundered the admiral. “Look at your cousin. You must be a woman now. Ah, here you are, then!” he continued fiercely as Percy Guest entered.
“Yes; I came up for a moment before I go on there.”
“I’m glad you’ve come,” cried the old man furiously, and leaping at someone upon whom he could vent his rage. “Now, then, explain, you dog. What does that villain—that scoundrel—mean by insulting me—my child, like this? Damn him! I’ll—”
“Stop, Sir Mark!” cried Guest firmly. “You don’t know what you are saying.”
“What?”
“And I will not stand here and have my dear old friend and schoolfellow insulted by such words.”
“Insulted!” cried Sir Mark, with a harsh laugh; “insulted?”