“I repeat, sir, that if this settlement be not accomplished in less than a week from the present moment, it may prove utterly valueless.” “I can only say I'll do my best, my Lady. I'd be on the road this minute, if your Ladyship would dismiss me.” “Very well, sir,--you are free. I pledge myself to the full conditions of this letter. Captain Martin binds himself equally to observe them.” “I 'd like it in writing under your Ladyship's hand,” said Scanlan, in a half whisper, as though afraid to speak such doubts aloud. “It is not that I have the least suspicion or misgiving in life about your Ladyship's word,--I'd take it for a million of money,--but when I come to make my proposals in person to Miss Mary--” “There, sir, that will do!” said she, with a disdainful look, as if to repress an explanation so disagreeable. “You need not enter further upon the question. If you address me by letter, I will reply to it.” “There it is, my Lady,” said he, producing a sealed epistle, and placing it on the table before her. “I had it ready, just not to be losing time. My London address is inside; and if you'll write to me by to-morrow's post,--or the day after,” added he, remarking a movement of impatience in her face--“You shall have your bond, sir,--you shall have your bond,” broke she in, haughtily. “That ought to be enough, I think,” said the Captain, with a degree of irritation that bespoke a long internal conflict. “I want nothing beyond what I shall earn, Captain Martin,” said Scanlan, as a flash of angry meaning covered his features. “And we have agreed to the terms, Mr. Scanlan,” said her Ladyship, with a great effort to conciliate. “It only remains for us to say, a good journey, and every success attend you.” “Thank you, my Lady; I'm your most obedient. Captain, I wish you good-bye, and hope soon to send you happy tidings. I trust, if Mr. Martin asks after me, that you 'll give him my respectful duty; and if--” “We'll forget nothing, sir,” said Lady Dorothea, rising; and Scanlan, after a moment's hesitation as to whether he should venture to offer his hand,--a measure for which, happily, he could not muster the courage,--bowed himself out of the room, and closed the door. “Not a very cordial leave-taking for one that's to be her nephew,” muttered he, with a bitter laugh, as he descended the stairs. “And, indeed, my first cousin, the Captain, is n't the model of family affection. Never mind, Maurice, your day is coming!” And with this assuring reflection he issued forth to give orders for his journey. A weary sigh--the outpouring of an oppressed and jaded spirit--broke from Lady Dorothea as the door closed after him. “Insufferable creature!” muttered she to herself? and then, turning to the Captain, said aloud, “Is that man capable of playing us false?--or, rather, has he the power of doing so?”