o be killed out of hand," said Edith. "The possible
young woman must be left to judge of that. I shouldn't like to marry
a 'woodcock,' however much I might admire him. I do think it well
that there should be such men as Captain Clayton. I feel that if I
were a man I ought to wish to be one myself. But I am sure I should
feel that I oughtn't to ask a girl to share the world with me. Fancy
marrying a man merely to be left a sorrowing widow! It is part of the
horror of his business that he shouldn't even venture to dance, lest
some poor female should be captivated."

"A girl might be captivated without dancing," said Ada.

"I don't mean to say that such a man should absolutely tie himself up
in a bag so that no poor female should run any possible danger, but
he oughtn't to encourage such risks. To tell the truth, I don't think
that Captain Clayton does."

Ada that afternoon thought a great deal of the position,--not, of
course, in reference to herself. Was it proper that such a man as
Captain Yorke Clayton should abstain from falling in love with
a girl, or even from allowing a girl to fall in love with him
because he was in danger of being shot? It was certainly a difficult
question. Was any man to be debarred from the pleasures, and
incidents, and natural excitements of a man's life because of the
possible dangers which might possibly happen to a possible young
woman? Looking at the matter all round, Ada did not see that the man
could help himself unless he were to be shut up in a bag, as Edith
had said, so as to prevent a young woman from falling in love with
him. Although he were a "woodcock," the thing must go on in its own
natural course. If misfortunes did come, why misfortunes must come.
It was the same thing with any soldier or any sailor. If she were to
fall in love with some officer,--for the supposition in its vague,
undefined form was admissible even to poor Ada's imagination,--she
would not be debarred from marrying him merely by the fact that he
would have to go to the wars. Of course, as regarded Captain Yorke
Clayton, this was merely a speculation. He might be engaged to some
other girl already for anything she knew;--"or cared," as she told
herself with more or less of truth.

Captain Yorke Clayton came down by the boat that afternoon to Morony
Castle, Frank Jones having started for London two or three days
before. He reached the pier at about four o'clock, accompanied by his
faithful follower, and w