"Rejected, Henry, my suit rejected—oh, no! In supposing my grief to originate with her, you are correct; but imagine not it is because my suit is rejected—certainly not."
"Then," exclaimed Henry, with generous emphasis, while he pressed the thin hand which he held more closely between his own, "Why not marry her?"
Gerald started.
"Yes, marry her," continued Henry; "marry her and be at peace. Oh! Gerald, you know not what sad agency I attached to that insidious American from the first moment of her landing on this shore—you know not how much I have disliked, and still dislike her—but what are all these considerations when my brother's happiness is at stake? Gerald, marry her—and be happy."
"Impossible," returned the sailor, in a feeble voice, and again his heart sank upon the open palm of his hand.
"Do you no longer love her, then?" eagerly questioned the astonished youth.
Once more Gerald raised his head, and fixed his large, dim eyes full upon those of his brother. "To madness!" he said, in a voice and with a look that made Henry shudder. There was a moment of painful pause. The latter at length ventured to observe:
"You speak in riddles, Gerald. If you love this Miss Montgomerie to madness, and are, as you seem to intimate, loved by her in return, why not, as I have urged, marry her?"
"Because," replied the sailor, turning paler than before, and almost gasping for breath, "there is a condition attached to the possession of her hand."