"But Miss Villiers was tall and fair."
"Oh, my cousin do you mean? Yes; she will be in directly. But—but"—(Rosetta's face grew whiter and her eyes larger with the shock of discovery)—"you did not mean her, surely?"
"Excuse me—I did—and do."
"Then allow me to assure you, Mr. Roscoria, that the admiral did not. My cousin, Lyndis Villiers, is his niece and guest merely; it is I who am his ward since my father died in a naval engagement. He has made a very natural mistake. Lyndis is supposed to be out of the question, being engaged to marry a former pupil of yours—Mr. Eric Rodda. The admiral of course assumed that you meant me when you made your extraordinary request. I may mention that I thought it odd at the time."
"Oh, Lord! oh, Lord! I am punished this time!" groaned Roscoria, and, without even keeping up a pretense of ceremony, he sank on the table and sat there, rocking himself backward and forward. Rosetta laughed as one who had lost a load of care. She was now free to rejoice at the misfortunes of another, and for the first moment could not resist doing so. She stood opposite Roscoria and laughed at him and his discomfiture, like the child she really was.
"Not that I mean the least disrespect to you, my dear Miss Villiers," apologized Roscoria, out of the depths of his lamentations; "if only, like my predecessor Jacob when in a similar predicament, I could take both, how glad, how thankful I should be! But as it is, dear Miss Villiers, your cousin is so much to me—and—I thought I had got her!—in short, I know you will excuse me."
"Excuse you? Why, I am so thankful myself!" breathed out Rosetta.
"Thanks: it is very kind of you to say so. It makes it much easier for me," sighed Roscoria, gratefully.
At that moment enter the admiral, walking sideways and fumbling with the door-handle as one who fears to interrupt a tete-a-tete.