“Gavan’s in fact, you know; but he’s a good son. Not very much in common, perhaps: Gavan was always a book-worm, a fellow of fads and theories; I love a broad life, men and things. No, not much in common, except our love for his mother, my dear, dead wife; that brought us together. We shook hands over her grave, so to speak,” said the captain, but without his usual sentiment. An air of jaunty cheerfulness pervaded his manner. “She is buried near here, you know. You may have seen the grave. A very pretty stone; very pretty indeed. Gavan chose it. I was in India at the time. A great blow to me. I never recovered from it. I forget, for the moment, what the text is; but it’s very pretty; very appropriate. I knew I could trust Gavan to do everything properly.” Gavan’s face had kept its pallid calm. “You will tire yourself, father,” he said. “Let me take you up-stairs now. Mrs. Arley and Miss Gifford will excuse us.” The captain resisted his attempt to turn him to the door. “Miss Gifford. Yes, Miss Gifford,” he repeated, turning to where Eppie stood attentively watching father and son, “But I want to see Miss Elspeth Gifford. It was that I came for.” He took her hand and his wrecked and restless eyes went over her face. “So this is Miss Elspeth Gifford.” “You have heard of me?” Eppie’s composure was as successful as Gavan’s own and lent to the scene a certain matter-of-fact convention. The captain bowed low. “Heard of you? Yes. I have often heard of you. I am glad, glad and proud, to meet at last so much goodness and wit and beauty. You have a name in the world, Miss Gifford. Yes, indeed, I have heard of you.” Suddenly, while he held her hand and gazed at her, his look changed. Tears filled his eyes; a muscle in his lip began to shake; a flush of maudlin indignation purpled his face. “And you are the girl my son jilted! And you come to our house! It’s a noble action. It’s a generous action. It’s worthy of you, my dear.” He tightly squeezed her hand, Gavan’s attempt--and now no gentle one--to draw him away only making his clutch the more determined. “No, Gavan, I will not go. I will speak my mind. This is my hour. The time has come for me to speak my mind. Let’s have the truth; truth at all costs is my motto. A noble and generous action. But, my dear,” he leaned his head toward her and spoke in a loud whisper, “you’re well rid of him, you know--well rid of him. Don’t try to patch it up. Don’t come in that hope. So like a woman--I know, I know. But give it up; that’s my advice. Give it up. He’s a poor fellow--a very poor fellow. He wouldn’t make you happy; just take that from me--a friend, a true friend. He wouldn’t make any woman happy. He’s a poor creature, and a false creature, and I’ll say this,” the captain, now trembling violently, burst into tears: “if he has been a false lover to you he has been a bad son to me.”