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, and hid his despair from the eyes of man.
Chapter Ten.
An unopened Bud.
Myra Jerrold stood looking very calm and statuesque, with James Barron holding her hand.
“Yes,” he said, “I am going now, but only for a few hours. I cannot live away from you. Only a fortnight now, Myra, and then good-bye to cold England. I take you to a land of beauty, of sunny skies, and joy and love.”
“Can any land be as beautiful as that which holds one’s home?” she said.