A dry, choking sob was the girl's answer. Her eyes were burning and bright. The captain turned to the impatient, expectant young baronet.
"Sir Everard Kingsland," he said, with a painful effort, "you are the son of my old and much-valued friend; therefore I speak. My near approach to eternity lifts me above the minor considerations of time. Yesterday morning, from yonder window, I saw you on the terrace with my daughter."
The baronet grasped his hand, his face flushed, his eyes aglow. Oh, surely, the hour of his reward had come!
"You made her an offer of your hand and heart?"
"Which she refused," the young man said, with a glance of unutterable reproach. "Yes, sir; and I love her with my whole heart!"
"I thought so," very faintly. "Why did you refuse, Harrie?"
"Oh, papa! Why are we talking of this now?"
"Because I am going to leave you, my daughter. Because I would not leave you alone. Why did you refuse Sir Everard?"
"Papa, I—I only knew him such a little while."
"And that is all? You don't dislike him, do you?"