m his seat and fled to the wall, where he stood breathing
hard.

"Yes, I know," he cried wildly. "Only my shadow, but it is coming
back--I cannot--it is more than man can bear."

There was a wild despair in his utterance, and he shrank away more and
more toward the doorway leading to the further room. Then, as if making
a supreme effort, he drew himself up erect, with his lips moving rapidly
in a low murmur, stepped firmly toward the table and seized the glass.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

FATE!

Barron was back to dine at the admiral's that night, but the dinner was
not a success. Myra was singularly cold and formal in her manner; Edie
pleaded a headache; and the admiral was worried by recollections of the
morning's blunder, and felt awkward and constrained with his guest.

Strive hard as he would he could not help making comparisons, and a
curious feeling of pity came over him as he thought of Stratton's blank
face and the look of despair in his eyes, while he half wished that he
had not allowed himself to be so easily won over to the engagement.

"For he is, after all, nearly a stranger," he mused as his son-in-law
elect tried hard to secure Myra's interest in a society anecdote he was
retailing, to which she listened and that was all. "Yes, a stranger,"
mused Sir Mark. "I know very little about him. Bah! Absurd! What
should I know of any man who wanted to marry my girl? I might meet his
relatives, and there would be a certain amount of intercourse, but if I
knew them for fifty years it would not make the man a good husband to my
poor girl. He loves her dearly; he is a fine, clever, manly fellow;
there is no doubt about the Barron estate in Trinidad, and he has a
handsome balance at his banker's."

The ladies rose soon after, and Barron held the door open, returning
slowly to his seat, and shrugging his shoulders slightly. For there had
been no tender look as Myra passed out, and Barron's thought was
justified.

"Don't seem as if we were engaged. I hope," he said aloud, "Myra is not
unwell."

"Eh? Oh, no, my dear boy, no. Girls do come over grumpy sometimes.
Here, try this claret, and let's have a cozy chat for an hour before we
go up."

"An hour?" said Barron, with a raising of the eyebrows.

"Yes; why not? You're not a love-sick boy, and you'll have plenty of
your wife by and by."

"Not a boy, certainly, sir. As to the love-sickness--well, I don't
know. But--yes, that's a good glass of cl