Now that the intelligent reader is better acquainted with our hero's history and aspirations, he will at once conceive that Mark was rather alarmed for more reasons than one at the possible consequences of his second altercation with John Peter Heath, as related in a previous chapter. Dr. Wattletop had relieved his fears in relation to any serious injury's resulting to the brother; but, reflected Mark, what will the sister think of it, and how has the affair been represented to her? Most likely, I am held up as a ruffian, who brutally and causelessly assailed her brother. Shall I submit, and let the future explain, or had I better seek an interview, and set myself right? I must do it, and I'll do it at once, was his decision--a decision he arrived at the more readily, as it afforded him an excellent pretext to see and converse with the object of his secret and constant adoration. But, on consideration, fearing that such a step might be misinterpreted, he concluded reluctantly to address himself to her father, and offer a frank explanation of the occurrence. It required an effort to come to this decision, for Mark dreaded Mr. Heath's patronizing politeness, and invariably avoided meeting him. But he conquered his repugnance on reflecting that that gentleman was fortunate enough to be Edna's father, and, moreover, that there was a likelihood of meeting and conversing with that young lady in compensation. In view of the latter probability, he prepared himself by making a more than usual neat and careful toilet, and by the time he was ready to start, his thoughts were far more occupied with Miss Edna's eyes, than with her brother's broken head. Off he started for the "Cliff," but soon his courage failed him, as he imagined the reception he was likely to meet with. Twice or thrice he stopped, hesitated, and only continued after much cogitation. Resolutely he walked past the gate-lodge, and up the avenue that led to the house. He rang the bell with a thumping heart. It was the first time he had crossed that threshold since he had been to Jack Heath's birthday party, and he remembered the colored servant who now ushered him into a reception room, as the same one--with a gray poll now, however--who had assisted the pianist in stopping the fight on that memorable occasion. Mark sent his name up to Mr. Heath, with the wish to be allowed a few moments' conversation with him. That gentleman, evidently, was in no haste to see his visitor, for he kept him waiting a long time. Meanwhile, Mark amused himself by staring at the pictures on the wall, and looking over some books that lay on the pier-table, when he heard light tripping footsteps coming towards him, and, turning suddenly, beheld Edna standing in the doorway in a startled attitude--a charming picture of a surprised maiden, lithe figure poised forward, with slightly parted lips, and fine, large eyes opened in full wonder. "Oh, I beg pardon--excuse me, I