Left alone, George Sedgewick paced the room in a meditative mood, with
his hands thrust deep into his trousers-pockets, and his gray head bent
thoughtfully.

"She must like him," he muttered to himself. "Why should not she like
him?--good-looking, generous, clever, prosperous, well-connected, and
over head and ears in love with her. Such a marriage is the very thing I
have been praying for. And without such a marriage, what would be her
fate when I am gone? A drudge and dependent in some middle-class family
perhaps--tyrannised over and tormented by a brood of vulgar children."

Marian came in at the open window while he was still pacing to and fro
with a disturbed countenance.

"My dear uncle, what is the matter?" she asked, going up to him and
laying a caressing hand upon his shoulder. "I know you never walk about
like that unless you are worried by something."

"I am not worried to-day, my love; only a little perplexed," answered the
Captain, detaining the caressing little hand, and planting himself face
to face with his niece, in the full sunlight of the broad bow-window.
"Marian, I thought you and I had no secrets from each other?"

"Secrets, uncle George!"

"Yes, my dear. Haven't you something pleasant to tell your old
uncle--something that a girl generally likes telling? You had a visitor
yesterday afternoon while I was asleep."