"Conquer a world--come to luncheon? A pretty brace of subjects!" said
her father.

"Miss Hunsden is quite capable of conquering a world without having
been born anything so horrid as a boy," said Lord Ernest. "There are
bloodless conquests, wherein the conquerors of the world are conquered
themselves."

The baronet scowled. Miss Hunsden retorted saucily. She and Lord
Ernest kept up a brilliant wordy war.

He sat like a silent fool--like an imbecile, he said to himself,
glowering malignantly. He was madly in love, and he was furiously
jealous. What business had this ginger-whiskered young lordling
interloping here? And how disgustingly self-assured and at home he
was! He tried to talk to the captain, but it was a miserable failure.

It was a relief when a servant entered with the mailbag.

"The mail reaches us late," Captain Hunsden said, as he opened it. "I
like my letters with my breakfast."

"Any for me, papa?" Harriet asked.

"One--from your governess in Paris, I think--and half a dozen for me."

He glanced carelessly at the superscriptions as he laid them down. But
as he took the last he uttered a low cry; his face turned livid: he
stared at it as if it had turned into a death's-head in his hand.