“Is that all, Gillian? No one would coerce you. Shall I send him away, and tell him not to think of it? Remember, it is a serious thing--nay, an unworthy thing to trifle with a right-minded man.” Gillian sat clasping the elbow of her chair, her dark eyes fixed. At last she said-- “Papa, I do feel a sort of trust in him, a sort of feeling as if my life and all goodness and all that would be safe with him; and I couldn’t bear him to go quite away and hear no more of him, only I do wish it wouldn’t happen now; and if there is a fuss about it, I shall get cross and savage, and be as nasty as possible, I know I shall.” “You can’t exercise enough self-command to remember what is due--I would say kind and considerate--to a man who has loved you through all your petulance and discouragement, and now is going to a life not without peril for three years? Suppose a mishap, Gillian--how would you feel as to your treatment of him on this last evening?” “Oh, papa! if you talk in that way I must, I must,” and she burst into tears. Sir Jasper bent over her and gave her a kiss--a kiss that from him was something to remember. It was late, and summonses to a hurried meal were ringing through Beechcroft Cottage, where the Clipstone party waited to see the illuminations. Talk was eager between the sellers and the sailors as Valetta described the two parties, the fate of the Indian screen, and the misconduct of Cockneys in their launches were discussed by many a voice, but Gillian was unwontedly silent. Her mother had no time for more than a kiss before the shouts of Wilfred, Fergus, and Primrose warned them that the illuminations were beginning. She could only catch Mysie, and beg her to keep the younger ones away from Gillian and the Captain. Mysie opened her brown eyes wide and said-- “Oh!” Then, “Is it really?” “Really, my dear, and remember that it is his last evening!” “Oh!” said Mysie again. “I never thought it of Gill! May I tell Valetta?” “Better not, my dear, if it can be helped.” A screaming for Gill was heard, and Mysie hastened to answer it. Lady Merrifield was too much tired to do anything but sit in the garden with Miss Mohun and look out at the ships, glittering with festoons of coloured lamps, reflected in the sea, but the young people went further afield, out on the cliff path to Rotherwood Park. The populace were mainly collected on the quay, and this formed a more select promenade, though by no means absolute solitude. Sir Jasper really did keep guard over the path along which Gillian allowed her Captain to conduct her, not exactly knowing which way they were going, and quite away from the bay and all its attractions. She heard him out without any of the sharp, impatient answers in which her maiden coyness was wont to disguise itself, as he told her of his hopes and plans for the time when his three years of the Mediterranean should be over. “And you see you can go on studying all the time, if you must be so clever.”