er.
He would not even allow her the usual right of defending her sex by
falsehood. "If so there is an end of it all," he repeated, holding
out his hand as though to bid her farewell.

She believed him, and gave him her hand. "Good-bye, Captain Clayton,"
she said.

"Never again," he said to her very gruffly, but still with such a
look across his eyes as irradiated his whole face. "This hand shall
never again be your own to do as you please with it."

"Who says so?" and she struggled as though to pull her hand away, but
he held her as though in truth her hand had gone from her for ever.

"I say so, who am its legitimate owner. Now I bid you tell me the
truth, or rather I defy you to go on with the lie. Do you not love
me?"

"It is a question which I shall not answer."

"Then," said he, "from a woman to a man it is answered. You cannot
make me over to another. I will not be transferred."

"I can do nothing with you, Captain Clayton, nor can you with me. I
know you are very strong of course." Then he loosened her hand, and
as he did so Ada came into the room.

"I have asked her to be my wife," said the Captain, putting his hand
upon Edith's arm.

"Let it be so," said Ada. "I have nothing to say against it."

"But I have," said Edith. "I have much to say against it. We can all
live without being married, I suppose. Captain Clayton has plenty to
do without the trouble of a wife. And so have you and I. Could we
leave our father? And have we forgotten so soon poor Florian? This is
no time for marriages. Only think, papa would not have the means to
get us decent clothes. As far as I am concerned, Captain Clayton, let
there be an end of all this." Then she stalked out of the room.

"Ada, you are not angry with me," said Captain Clayton, coming up to
her.

"Oh, no! How could I be angry?"

"I have not time to do as other men do. I do not know that I ever
said a word to her; and yet, God knows, that I have loved her dearly
enough. She is hot tempered now, and there are feelings in her heart
which fight against me. You will say a word in my favour?"

"Indeed, indeed I will."

"There shall be nothing wrong between you and me. If she becomes my
wife, you shall be my dearest sister. And I think she will at last.
I know,--I do know that she loves me. Poor Florian is dead and gone.
All his short troubles are over. We have still got our lives to lead.
And why should we not lead them as may best suit us? She talks about