“If we go by perils dared, the uncle is the true knight-errant,” said she to her father. “I wonder which our child truly loves the best!” “Betty!” said her father, scandalised. “Ay, I know, Sir Amyas is a charming boy, but what a boy he is! And she has barely spoken with him or seen him, whereas Mr. Belamour has been kind to her for a whole twelvemonth. I know what I should do if I were in her place. I would declare that I intended to be married to the uncle, and would keep it!” “He would think it base to put the question.” “He would; but indeed, dear sir, I think it would be but right and due to the dear child herself that she should have here free choice, and not be bound for ever by a deception! Yes, I know the poor boy’s despair would be dreadful, but it would be better for them both than such a mistake.” “Hush! I hear him knocking at the door, you cruel woman.” The bedroom opened into the parlour the party had hired, so that both could come out and meet Sir Amyas with the door ajar, without relaxing their watch upon the sleeper. The poor young man looked pale, shocked, and sorrowful. “Well,” said he, after having read in their looks that there was no change, “he knows the worst.” Then on a further token of interrogation, “It may have been my fault; I took him, unannounced, through the whole suite of rooms, and in the closet at the end, with all the doors open, she was having an altercation with Mar. He was insisting on knowing what she had done with”--(he signed towards the other room) “she, upbraiding him with faithlessness. They were deaf to an approach, till Mr. Wayland, in a loud voice, ordered me back, saying ‘it was no scene for a son.’” “I trust it will not end in a challenge?” asked the Major, gravely. “No, my father’s infirmity renders him no fighting man, and I--I may not challenge my superior officer.” “But your uncle?” said Betty, much fearing that such a scene might have led to his being forgotten.