Like an inspiration, rose the idea of consulting the octogenarian. A man who cannot make up his own mind is justified in seeking counsel. Elizabeth could suffer no harm through Peyton's confiding in this sage old man, who was devoted to her and to her family. Mr. Valentine's very words on entering, which alluded to Peyton's pleasant visit as Elizabeth's guest, gave an opening for the subject concerned. A very few speeches led up to the matter, which Harry broached, after announcing that he took the old man for one experienced in matters of the heart, and receiving the admission that the old man _had_ enjoyed a share of the smiles of the sex. But if the captain had thought, in seeking advice, to find reason for avoiding his ugly task, he was disappointed. Old Valentine, though he had for some days feared a possible state of things between the captain and Miss Sally, had observed Elizabeth, and his vast experience had enabled him to interpret symptoms to which others had been blind. "She has acted towards you," he said to Peyton, "as she never acted towards another man. She's shown you a meekness, sir, a kind of timidity." And he agreed that, if Peyton should go away without an explanation, it would make her throw aside other expectations, and would, in the end, "cut her to the heart." Valentine hinted at regrettable things that had ensued from a jilting of which himself had once been guilty, and urged on Peyton an immediate unbosoming, adding, "She'll be so took aback and so full of wrath at you, she won't mind the loss of you. She'll abominate you and get over it at once." The idea came to Peyton of making the confession by letter, but this he promptly rejected as a coward's dodge. "It's a damned unpleasant duty, but that's the more reason I should face it myself." At that moment the front door of the east hall was heard to open. "It's Miss Elizabeth and her aunt," said Valentine, listening at the door. "Then I'll have the thing over at once, and be gone! Mr. Valentine, a last kindness,--keep the aunt out of the room." Before Valentine could answer, the ladies entered, their cheeks reddened by the weather. Elizabeth carried a small bunch of belated autumn flowers. "Well, I'm glad to come in out of the cold!" burst out Miss Sally, with a retrospective shudder. "Mr. Peyton, you've a bitter night for your going." She stood before the fire and smiled sympathetically at the captain. But Peyton was heedful of none but Elizabeth, who had laid her flowers on the spinet and was taking off her cloak. Peyton quickly, with an "Allow me, Miss Philipse," relieved her of the wrap, which in his abstraction he retained over his left arm while he continued to hold his hat in his other hand. After receiving a word of thanks, he added, "You've been gathering flowers," and stood before her in much embarrassment.