"Did she say those words, Philip?"

"Yes, word for word, and looked like an angel when he said so. I
replied that I would certainly deliver her message, but that I must not
remain, for fear of Mr Trevannion finding me with her, as he ordered me
to quit the house."

"`Indeed,' said she; `what can be the matter with my poor father?'

"`Why, Miss Trevannion,' said I, `he was very angry, and he had reason,
for I was very saucy, and that's the truth.'

"`Why, Philip, what did you say to him?'

"`Oh, I hardly know,' replied I, `but I know that I said more than I
ought; for I was very angry at my brother's dismissal. Good bye, Miss
Trevannion.'

"Miss Trevannion was taking a ring off her finger as I said good bye,
and I thought she was going to give it me as a keepsake; but, after a
little hesitation, she put it on again, and then held out her hand,
saying, `Good bye, Master Philip, let us not part in anger, at all
events.' I took her hand, bowed, and turned away to quit the room; when
I was at the door I looked round, and she was sitting with her face in
her hands and I think she was weeping. I went out into the street, and
waited for Captain Levee, and there's an end of my story."

"Well, now I'll give you my portion, Elrington.--As soon as Philip went
out of the room, Mr Trevannion said, `That's a most impudent boy, and I
am glad that he is gone. You are of course aware that his brother has
left me, and the cause of our disagreement?'

"`Yes, Sir,' replied I, drily, `I have heard the whole particulars.'

"`Did you ever hear of such ridiculous scruples?' said he.

"`Yes, Sir, I heard them before, and so did you, when he gave up the
command of the privateer, and I respected them, because I knew that Mr
Elrington was sincere. Indeed, his observations on that head are
undeniably true, and have had great weight with me; so much so, that I
intend to enter into the king's service as soon as I possibly can.'

"I wish you had seen the look of Mr Trevannion when I said this--he was
stupefied. That I, Captain Levee, who had commanded his vessels so
long--I, the very _beau ideal_ of a privateersman, a reckless,
extravagant dare-devil, should also presume to have scruples, was too
much for him. `Et tu, Brute,' he might have exclaimed, but he did not;
but he stared at me without speaking for some time; at last he said, `Is
the golden age arrived, or is this a conspiracy?'

"`Neither one nor the other, Sir,' I repl