"Indeed, sir! Then there has been a little clandestine love-affair between you already, has there? The hussy!"
"Well, admiral, we don't generally make our first tentative advances in the presence of the guardians—now do we?" put in the ready Tregurtha.
"I suppose not, you rascal; I suppose not," said the admiral, and pen and paper were laid before him.
"Now mind, Sir John," Roscoria warned him jocularly, "this transaction may not be strictly legal; but there is such a thing as the Court of Honor. I am sure of my own intentions, I can guess at the lady's, and this writing is to hold you to yours."
The admiral only nodded impatiently, and wrote down in good set terms an agreement to give his niece in marriage to Louis Roscoria on condition of that landowner and his heirs forever resigning all claim of ownership to the boundary-plot of Braceton Park. He threw the paper across to the young men to sign as witnesses, and then returned to his glass and his yarn. The old fellow's somewhat shaken good-humor was quickly restored. He was finally put into his greatcoat and sent home in his brougham, feeling vaguely uncomfortable, but softly singing a nautical ditty.
Roscoria knew no discomfort nor repentance, but danced the hornpipe with Tregurtha.
[VII.]
ROSCORIA'S BETROTHED.
Rosetta Villiers was looking very uncomfortable. She had taken a seat opposite to her uncle, the admiral, and was cross-questioning him with a certain sternness, before which the old sinner was quailing considerably.