Captain Sarsfield too was pale. He loved Dicky, but he could not bring himself to give Polly to a cashiered officer, and he said so. But just then Polly herself appeared, and marching up to Dicky, with blazing eyes, she put her hand on his arm. "But I want to marry him, _and I will_!" she said. "He is the best sailor in the British navy, and if they cashier him because he can do what hardly anybody else can do, very well. Papa, I shall marry him." Captain Sarsfield rubbed his eyes to see if he were awake or dreaming. Was this his quiet, gentle Polly? As for Dicky, his heart swelled, but he removed her hand gently from his arm. "No, Polly," he said; "your father is right. I could not bring you down to be the wife of a man counted unfit to serve his king and his country." "But I am not afraid of being poor," said Polly, with tears in her eyes. "It is not that, my dear," answered Dicky, in a husky voice. "It is because I am broken--don't you see? I shall have to take off the uniform that I had hoped to wear as long as I lived. I shall have to either live in my own country as a discredited man, or carry my discredit with me to another country; no, Polly." "But I say I will!" answered Polly, fiercely. "Good-by," said Dicky, taking her hand. "You are too generous; it would be cruel to take advantage of you, dear Polly--" The captain had been standing there all the time. Both Dicky and Polly had forgotten him until he spoke. "Now, Polly," said he, firmly, "this must stop. Carew is right." "Well, then," said Polly, standing up very straight and bold, "he may refuse to marry me now; but I mean to let him know once a year that I am ready and waiting for him, until--until he finds somebody else." "There's no danger of that," said Dicky, kissing her hand; "but you and I can never be married now, Polly." Dicky did not go back to the Hornet, but went ashore and to an inn, where, calling for a private room, he sat and tried to look the thing in the face like a man; but he couldn't. His profession gone, his mother's heart broken, separated from Polly, no longer Captain Carew, commanding his Majesty's ship Hornet, but plain Dicky Carew commanding nothing at all. Oh, poor Dicky! How much easier would it have been to be killed in those sea-fights with Boney's ships! What was he to do? All night long Dicky sat up and walked the floor, and when day broke he was so haggard and miserable that he was ashamed to show himself. All day he sat in his little room; he would wait until nightfall before he took the coach for London. Disgraced men ought to hide themselves from the light of day. Toward evening, just as he was preparing to go out, a furious knocking came at his door. Dicky opened it, and there stood a functionary all in scarlet and gold--a king's messenger, so Dicky knew. The messenger, making a low bow, handed a packet to Dicky. "I was directed to deliver this into Mr. Carew's own hands," he said.