speaking as a frank, blunt sailor, I humbly ask your
pardon for any lapses of politeness wherein I have been guilty, and also
beg of you to forgive me for my conduct last night."

"A perfect outrage--barbarous," said Aunt Matty.

"Er-rum!--Matilda, let the young man speak," said Sir Hampton,
magisterially.

"It was, I am aware, very foolish of me, but I was carried away by my
feelings. Sir Hampton Rea, I love your daughter, Valentina."

"Absurd!" exclaimed Miss Matilda, who remained standing.

"I ventured to tell her so last night, in explaining away a little
misapprehension that had existed between us."

"I never heard such assurance!" said Miss Matilda.

"Matty--er-rum! Matilda, I mean, have the goodness not to interrupt the
pris--I mean--er-rum--the statement that is being made."

"If I could feel warrant for such a proceeding," continued Trevor,
calmly, "I intended to speak to you this morning, and ask your consent,
even as I spoke to Lady Rea last night, before I addressed your
daughter."

"Just like Fanny--encouraging it!" muttered Aunt Matty.

"Go on, sir, I am listening," said Sir Hampton, telling himself this was
quite a preparation for the bench.

"I came, then, Sir Hampton, to formally propose for your daughter's
hand. Though comparatively a stranger to you, I am well known here--of
one of the most ancient county families--and I have eight thousand a
year. That, Sir Hampton, is putting the matter in a plain,
business-like form. If I am wanting in the proper etiquette, my excuse
is my seafaring life."

"Exactly," said Aunt Matty, satirically.

The words "prisoner at the bar" were on Sir Hampton's lips, but he did
not utter them; he only rolled his words nice and round, and infused as
much dignity as was possible into his tones. "The young man" had
insulted him, but he could afford to treat him with dignified composure.

"Mr Trevor," he began, "I have listened to your remarks with
patience"--magisterial here, very--"I have, er-rum I heard your
application. For your friends' sake, I was willing to condone"--capital
magisterial word, and he liked it so much that he said it
again--"er-rum! to condone that which was past. Er-rum! but under the
circumstances, near neighbours as we are, I think it better that all
communication"--the clearest magisterial tone here, and
repeated--"er-rum! communication between us should cease."

"Decidedly!" put in Aunt Matty, arranging her mittens.

"Er-ru