As a shopkeeper or clerk there would have been nothing very attractive about Digby, but as a baronet he was somewhat of a success. There was nothing, however, in his fair, soft, round face or washed-out blue eyes calculated to influence the tender passion in one of the opposite sex; only he was excessively good-natured, and it is very nice of a baronet to be excessively good-natured and condescending, especially when everybody knows he may become a lord as soon as another noble lord chooses to die. Everybody knew also of Sir Digby's passion for Gerty Keane, and for this very reason used to say sneering and ill-natured things behind the baronet's back; for people were not a whit better in those "good old times" than they are now. Whenever Sir Digby sailed into a drawing-room that happened to possess a sprinkling of marriageable girls of various ages, from sixteen to--say sixty, he sailed into an ocean of smiles; but if Gerty were there, he appeared to notice no one else in the room. Whenever Sir Digby sailed out again, their tongues began to wag, both male and female tongues, but particularly the latter. But on the particular evening when Sir Digby Auld solicited an interview with Gerty, he had dressed with more than his usual care, and wore his softest, oiliest smile. "O Gerty," he cried, "I'm _de_lighted beyond measure! How beautiful you look to-night! No star in all the firmament half so radiant as your eyes; no rose that ever bloomed could rival the blush on your cheek!" Sir Digby had practised this little speech for half-an-hour in front of the glass while waiting for Gerty. The girl didn't seem to hear him; or if she did, she did not heed. He led her passive to a seat, and drew his own chair nearer to hers than ever he had sat before. There was a sad kind of expression in Gerty's face, and a far-away look in her bonnie blue eyes. If Mary, her maid, had only held her silly tongue, Gerty might have been almost happy now. But Mary hadn't held her tongue, but conjured up Jack, and he was before her mental eyes at this very moment just as she had seen him last, the young and handsome lieutenant, going away to fight for king and country with a heart burning with courage and valour, yet filled with love for her--and with hope. Ah yes! that was the worst of it. They were not betrothed, and yet--and yet when he returned and found her engaged to another, it would break his heart. Yes, that was simply what it would do. What was Sir Digby saying? Oh, he had been talking for ten minutes and more, yet not one word had she heard. Nor had she even turned towards him. She did so at last, blushing and embarrassed at what she deemed the rudeness of her inattention. Digby misinterpreted her. "Yes, yes," he cried rapturously; "I read my happy fate in those dear downcast eyes and in that tell-tale blush. You love me, Gerty; you love me, all unworthy as I am. Then behold I throw myself at your feet."