red.

"Mildred!--_Dearest_ Mildred"--said Wycherly, tenderly, gently
endeavouring to draw her attention to himself, "we are alone now;
surely--surely--you will not refuse to _look_ at _me_!"

"Is he gone?" asked Mildred, dropping her hands, and looking wildly
around. "Thank God! It is over, for this time, at least! Now, let us go
to the house; Admiral Bluewater may miss me."

"No, Mildred, not yet. You surely can spare me--me, who have suffered so
much of late on your account--nay, by your _means_--you can, in mercy,
spare me a few short minutes. Was _this_ the reason--the _only_ reason,
dearest girl, why you so pertinaciously refused my hand?"

"Was it not sufficient, Wycherly?" answered Mildred, afraid the
chartered air might hear her secret. "Remember _who_ you are, and _what_
I am! Could I suffer you to become the husband of one to whom such
cruel, cruel propositions had been made by her own father!"

"I shall not affect to conceal my horror of such principles, Mildred,
but your virtues shine all the brighter by having flourished in their
company. Answer me but one question frankly, and every other difficulty
can be gotten over. Do you love me well enough to be my wife, were you
an orphan?"

Mildred's countenance was full of anguish, but this question changed its
expression entirely. The moment was extraordinary as were the feelings
it engendered, and, almost unconsciously to herself, she raised the hand
that held her own to her lips, in a sort of reverence. In the next
instant she was encircled in the young man's arms, and pressed with
fervour to his heart.

"Let us go"--said Mildred, extricating herself from an embrace that was
too involuntarily bestowed, and too heartfelt to alarm her delicacy. "I
feel certain Admiral Bluewater will miss me!"

"No, Mildred, we cannot part thus. Give me, at least, the poor
consolation of knowing, that if _this_ difficulty did not exist--that if
you were an orphan for instance--you would be mine."

"Oh! Wycherly, how gladly--how gladly!--But, say no more--nay--"

This time the embrace was longer, more fervent even than before, and
Wycherly was too much of a sailor to let the sweet girl escape from his
arms without imprinting on her lips a kiss. He had no sooner
relinquished his hold of the slight person of Mildred, ere it vanished.
With this characteristic leave-taking, we change the scene to the tent
of Sir Gervaise Oakes.

"You have seen Admiral Bluewater?" demanded