“But Myra?” he cried. “Oh, she would never consent to its being so soon.”
“I believe our dear Myra would, in the sweetness of her disposition alone, consent, Sir Mark,” said Barron gravely; “and as soon as she knows of the vital importance of time to the man who will be her husband, she will endeavour to meet his wishes in every way.”
“Yes, yes; she is a dear, good girl,” said Sir Mark; “but this is terrible: so soon.”
“The time for parting must come, Sir Mark, sooner or later; and think: it is for her benefit and happiness. Well, yes, I must confess to my own selfish wishes.”
“And then there is her aunt—my sister. She would never consent to—Yes, I know exactly what she would say—such indecent haste.”
“Only an elderly lady’s objection, Sir Mark,” said Barron, smiling. “You are certainly bringing forward a real difficulty now, for I fear that I have never found favour in Miss Jerrold’s eyes. But surely she has no right to dictate in a case like this. Nay, let us have no opposition. I will appeal to Miss Jerrold myself. She is too high-minded and sweet a lady to stand in the way of her niece’s and my happiness. I am satisfied of that. Come, Sir Mark, look at the case plainly. You have been a sailor, sir, and know the meaning of sudden orders to join. Nothing would stop you. Mine are not so sudden, for I have—that is, at all risks, I will have—a month. My fortune is at stake—Myra’s fortune, I may say. Help me as you feel the case deserves.”
The admiral was silent for a few minutes, during which he filled and emptied his claret glass twice.
“You’ve floored me, Barron,” he said at last. “I can’t find an argument against you.”
“Then you consent? And you will help me in every way?”
“It is hard work, my boy—a terrible wrench, but I suppose I must. In a month,” he muttered; “so soon—and for her to sail right away for a whole year.”