From this interview Mary retired to her chamber, and Captain Percy sought his host in his study. After communicating to Mr. Sinclair the contents of the dispatch he had just received, he continued, "I must in consequence of these orders leave you immediately--but before I go I have a confession to make to you. You will not wonder that your lovely daughter should have won my heart; but one hour since, I could have said that I had never yielded for an instant to that heart's suggestions--had never consciously revealed my love, or endeavored to excite in her feelings which, in my position and the present relations of our respective countries, could scarcely fail to be productive of pain. I can say so no longer. The moment of parting has torn the veil from the hearts of both--she loves me,"--there was a joyous intonation in Captain Percy's voice as he pronounced these last words. He was silent a moment while Mr. Sinclair continued to look gravely down--then suddenly he resumed--"Pardon my selfishness--I forget all else in the sweet thought that I am loved by one so pure, so gentle, so lovely. But though I have dared without your permission to acknowledge my own tenderness, and to draw from her the dear confession of her regard, there my wrong has ended--she has assured me that she could never be happy separated from you, and that you are wedded to your people." Mr. Sinclair shaded with his hand features quivering with emotion. "At present," continued Captain Percy, "these feelings, which are both of them too sacred for me to contest, place a barrier between us, and I have sought from her no promise for the future--if she can forget me--" Captain Percy paused a moment, then added abruptly--"may a happier destiny be hers than I could have commanded--but, sir, the time may come when England shall no longer need all her soldiers--an orphan and an only child, I have nothing to bind me to her soil--should I seek you then, and find your Mary with an unchanged heart, will you give her to me?--will you receive me as a son?" "Under such circumstances I would do so joyfully," Mr. Sinclair replied, "yet I cannot conceal from you now that I grieve to know that my daughter must wear out her youth in a hope long deferred at best, perhaps never to be realized." Both gentlemen were for a few minutes plunged in silent thought. Captain Percy arose from his seat--walked several times across the room, and then stopping before the table at which Mr. Sinclair was seated, resumed the conversation.