"The sacrifice, sir, if any is made, must be on _your_ side," quoth the admiral, kindling; "though I don't deny that if you were to marry my niece it might thus be made to my full and complete satisfaction." "Precisely, Sir John; and in that case, without further difficulty, I give up to you the 'boundary-plot,' which, I am afraid, you have long wished to possess." "Wished, sir--_wished_? It is mine!" The admiral smote the table with his fist; the glasses jingled; he remembered the port, and, drinking some, was cheered. "Yours, Sir John--yours from this moment if you consent to lay Miss Villiers' hand in mine," Roscoria spoke with ardor; the other men gathered round with interest, and the admiral saw he was expected to say the handsome thing. He rebelled at first. "Young man," he said, "your hospitality is of a somewhat treacherous character." "Pardon me, Sir John," retorted Roscoria. "I believe I have made you an honorable proposal. If it takes place whilst you are drinking my wine, well, sir, all that I can say is--I trust you find the port is good." "Excellent--excellent. I have no fault to find with the wine. The wine, sir, is unexceptionable. I wish only I found your offer the same." "Come now, admiral," interposed Tregurtha, good-humoredly, "what's a niece? You are rid of a tiresome responsibility, and the lady gets an honest husband." "H'm! honesty is his _forte_, is it? Shouldn't have thought it," muttered the admiral; but he was giving in. "There is one objection," he said, moving uneasily. "Miss Villiers is under age; but then girls are headstrong nowadays. What if she declines?" "Ah! she'll not decline," said Roscoria, with a joyous ring in his voice. "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.