wasn't surprising he got a sort of influence over
her."

"Influence over her?" repeated Mr. Tillotson,
mechanically.

The captain had not his eye on his friend at
that moment, and went on eager to explain.

"Exactly! The very thing. You know the
way young things look up to your tip-top clever
fellows, and you know she was very young,
Tillotson; and there are very few children's
heads can bear compliments and that sort of
thing, and this fellow was somehow always
coming and going and hanging about the place,
and whispering and colloquering, and I thought
it was a pity, you know, Tillotson, as she was
ill, to say anything. But I give you my honour
and credit, after I had heard some of those
stories about him——"

"Stories?"

"Ah! you may well say that," the captain
answered, despondingly. " A nice old fool, Tom,
to take charge of a young creature. Before God,
I couldn't help it. But I tell you, as soon as I
saw the chap he was, I was putting pen to paper
to get you over at once. Then came that sudden
thing! And, Tillotson, I do believe I never told
you this before—that he was a thorough rascal."

Mr. Tillotson again started. "And you never
told me all this?" he said reproachfully. " But
you meant it for the best."

"Indeed I did," said the captain. " And I
tell it you now, not to let it be pressing too
much on your spirits; for you had neither
hand nor part in it. Indeed, I have long had it
on my mind to tell you of it. My dear fellow,
you have nothing to charge yourself with. The
poor little soul, she was giddy and childish, and
could not help it. It was natural she should be
said and led by him; for he was an uncommonly
fine and dashing and insinuating fellow
as you'd ask to see. And, indeed, she wasn't
accountable."

Mr. Tillotson looked at him strangely.

"What does all this mean?" he said. "Tell
me about it fully. It is right I should know."

"Well, then, my dear friend," said the captain,
sadly, " not a word of this should have
passed my lips, but that I see you wasting
yourself away in this state. We have our duty to
the living as well as to the dead, as every parson
will tell you. My dear friend, the poor little
giddy soul, she gave me a deal of worry and
anxiety; and she was so foolish—without a bit
of harm in her, mind that that blackguard"
(and the captain grew savage all of a sudden)
"took advantage of it. I found out his game
afterwards, and the secret of all his civility and
attentions; and Tom, like an old Bolshero as he
always was and ever will be, so long as he goes
on his old lame leg, swallowed it all."

"But," said Mr. Tillotson, eagerly, "she
didn't——"

"I am afraid she did," said the captain,
mournfully. " I heard afterwards, that he was
bragging about that he only wanted a week's
more time, and he would have been like the
French marquis I was telling you of. Yes;
and I heard that he was showing a letter of hers
to some of his friends—a low mean trick that
no Englishman—I declare to God when I heard
that, Tillotson, I lost all patience with him,
and I sent Captain Peters, an old Ninety-
fourth man, now on half-pay, with my card, to
tell him he was a low scoundrel, and Peters was
just the man to give him my very words. And he
told him so; and then, sir, he showed the cloven
hoof. Talking about meeting an old man—
curse him," said the captain, "what did he
mean? I was young enough to face him, or any
coward like him—and so Peters told him, with
great presence of mind. And then, egad! he
dropped his tone. I'd have put my ball into him
as true as I would have done twenty years ago.
I suppose he thought I was some old cripple
fit for an hospital, the sneaking impostor!
But Peters gave him his mind, and was near
making it personal, too; and I'll never forget it
to Peters."

"But, my dear friend," said Mr. Tillotson,
"you surely did not——"

"No," said the captain, sadly, " he saved us
that trouble. Peters went home and had his
Joe Mantons all ready oiled, in the most friendly
manner; and, indeed, God forgive me, I was
thinking of it with great satisfaction, for we had
only buried the poor little soul the day before;
and I'd have had him in front of my Joe Manton
with great comfort, when he trumped up a
story, sir, about a telegraph message, and his
mother or grandmother dying. Then I saw
what the fellow was. Catch an English gentleman
doing that! Why, sir, he'd have let his
mother or his grandmother die fifty times over
before he'd disgrace himself in that way. Not
that I didn't like my mother. God forbid."

"But she—tell me about her," said Mr.
Tillotson. " Is it certain——"

The captain shook his head. " Best let it be
as it is," he said. " It wouldn't comfort you to
hear. Indeed, God forgive me for saying
anything about it. But it's all for your good. I
can't see a fine fellow wasting himself away in
that style, and not say a word. From what I
saw, my dear boy, and knew and found out, I
think you have mourned long enough. There's
reason in everything. God forgive my old heart
for saying a word against the poor thing; but
indeed it's right you should know. And now
there's the whole truth for you, neither more
nor less, and not a word of lie in it; and I mean
it for the best, telling you—before Heaven, I
do!"

Mr. Tillotson took his hand silently, and
wrung it. "Indeed I know that," he said.
"Well, there, it all ends then."

"To be sure," said the captain, almost gaily;
"and that's right. After all, my dear Tillotson,
it's only the poor girls—God help 'em—that
have time for moping. Why, look at you. A
fine dashing handsome fellow, with the world
before you, and plenty of brains (I wish old Tom
had a little corner of your head), and by-and-by
all this will pass by. Care killed many a cat,
my dear boy, and did no good after all."