Being officer of the forenoon watch, it was my turn to dine with the captain. This I would gladly have declined, but it was impossible without a breach of regulations; and at the appointed hour, after putting on my full-dress, I entered the cabin, and at the captain’s request, took my seat by the side of Agnes. Sir Edward looked displeased and bit his lips; his son arose from the table and muttered something about “plebeian rank;” whilst the sweet girl was almost fainting with alarm. The captain had noticed a strange peculiarity at the first interview, and, as I understood afterwards, had answered many inquiries respecting me. My friend, the lieutenant, had also given him some hints, but he was not the man to see honest humility abused; for he himself had risen from an obscure origin, and through his own merits had climbed every gradation to his present command. Beloved by his crew and universally respected in the service, he despised the proud aspirings of those who considered high birth as the greatest recommendation. Without discomposing himself, he directed the steward to remove the young gentleman’s plate to another table. Sir Edward keenly felt this, and rising up, demanded whether his present condition had so far reduced him in the captain’s estimation, as to render him the object of insult? “Sir Edward,” replied the captain calmly, “when you have explained your meaning, I shall be better able to answer you; at present I am involved in mystery.” “Look there!” said the baronet, pointing towards me, “the son of my gardener! Look there!” continued he, turning to his son, “the heir to the richest baronetage in Great Britain; and that”--pointing to Agnes, “to my shame be it spoken, is my daughter.”