"Well, Isabel," said Neil, in an undertone, as his father was loudly debating with Sir Cheltnam some vital question in which bits, bridles, and surcingles were mentioned again and again. "Well, Neil, dear," said the girl archly; "why do you keep looking out of the window? It is not Saxa's time yet." "Thank goodness!" he said to himself. Then aloud: "Facetious this morning, eh? Two can play at that, as we used to say when I was at home. Which is it to be--Sir Cheltnam or the sailor boy?" The arch expression passed away from Isabel's countenance on the instant. She gave a frightened glance round the table, as if dreading that the brother's words had been overheard, and then, bending down over her cup, she whispered: "Don't, please, Neil, dear. You hurt me when you talk like that." "Then you do care for Beck?" he said in a sharp whisper. "I--I don't know," she faltered. "Well, you know that he cares for you?" She gave him a piteous look. "And you know, too, that he is going to speak to your father this morning?" "O Neil, dear, he must not," whispered the girl, in an agony of fear. "But he must if he means to win you. I advised him to do so." Isabel caught hold of the cloth below the level of the table and glanced wildly at Beck, but he could not interpret the meaning of the look, and replied to it with one full of hope. The little party rose from the table soon after and fate favoured the sailor by giving him the opportunity he sought--Mr Elthorne crossing the hall to the library, while the others went out on to the lawn. "Eh! Want to speak to me, Beck?" said Mr Elthorne. "Come in here." He closed the door after the young officer, and pointed to a chair. "Sit down, my lad," he said pleasantly. "Now I'll be bound to say I can guess what you are about to say." "You can, sir?" said Beck eagerly. "I think so," said Mr Elthorne, with rather a set smile on his lips. "You were going to tell me that you have to start for the East in a very few days--am I right so far?" "Yes, sir, quite." "And that, as I have known you from a boy, you felt that without hesitation you might speak to me and not trouble your father. Still right?" "Yes, sir--I think so." "I felt it at once," said Mr Elthorne nodding. "Well, yes, my lad, I will try and oblige you. How much do you want?" "Want? How much?" cried the young man, starting up with his face flushing. "Did you think I wanted to borrow money, sir?" "Yes, my lad, of course." "Oh, no, sir," he cried; and, excited now by his position, he somewhat blunderingly, but with manly frankness, told how long he had loved Isabel, and asked for a sanction to his engagement. Mr Elthorne heard him in silence to the end, and then said briefly: "Impossible." "Impossible, sir?"