of the young women's quitting the old
hives, till the door was opened again and Edie Perrin ushered in her
cousin, tall, graceful, and with that indescribable look of love and
happiness seen in a bride's eyes on her wedding morn.

"Here she is, uncle," cried Edie, who then uttered a sob, and rushed
away with a rustling noise to hide the tears she could not restrain.

"My darling!" cried the old man huskily as he drew his child to his
breast; "and am I to feel that it is quite right, and that you are
happy?"

"Oh, so happy, father; so content at last--at last," she whispered as
she clung to him lovingly. "Only there is one thing."

"Eh? What--what?" cried the admiral excitedly.

"Leaving home and you."

The old man drew a deep breath full of relief.

"Oh, pooh, pooh, nonsense, my pet," he cried, looking at her beautiful
pensive face proudly; "don't mind that; I'm glad of it."

"Glad, father?"

"No, no, not to lose you, my darling, but for you to go away with the
man you love and who loves you. I hate him for taking you, but he is a
splendid fellow, Myra. What a sailor he would have made!"

"Yes, father."

"If they had not spoiled him by getting all that natural history stuff
in his head. But I say, my darling," he continued as he held his child
at arm's length, admiring her, but pushing up his hand.

"Yes, dear?"

"Isn't this a little too--too punctilious? Very lovely, dear; you look
all that a man could wish for, but it's a wedding, my pet, and you--you
do not quite look like a bride."

"What do the looks matter?" she said with a dreamy look in her large
eyes.

"Well, I don't know. Woman ought to please her husband, and isn't it a
mistake to dress--well, to parade that nonsense about your being a
widow."

"Nonsense, dear?" said Myra, smiling sadly. "It was no nonsense.
Whatever that man may have been I swore at the altar to be his faithful
wife."

"Till death did you part, eh? Yes, yes, yes," said the admiral testily,
"but he's dead and gone and forgotten; there is no need to dig him up
again."

"Papa!"

"Well, I mean by going to what will be a real wedding in half mourning."

"Malcolm agreed that I was right, dear."

"Oh, then I'm wrong. Only, if I had known, I should have put my foot
down--hard. Why, even Edie was hinting at it just now."

"Let the past rest, dear," said Myra gently.

"After this morning--yes, my darling. But I always feel as if I ought
to apologise to you,