succeeded in dining where she dined, in dancing where she danced,
in overtaking her by accident when she rode. His devotion followed
her to church, where the dragoon was rewarded by learning there
is a world where they neither polk nor smoke, the two capital
abominations of this one.

He made an acquaintance with her uncle, who liked him, and he saw
at last with joy that her eye loved to dwell upon him when she
thought he did not observe her. It was three months after the Box
Tunnel that Captain Dolignan called one day upon Captain Haythorn,
R.N., whom he had met twice in his life, and slightly propitiated
by violently listening to a cutting-out expedition; he called,
and in the usual way asked permission to pay his addresses to his
daughter. The worthy captain straightway began doing quarter-deck,
when suddenly he was summoned from the apartment by a mysterious
message. On his return he announced, with a total change of voice,
that it was all right, and his visitor might run alongside as
soon as he chose. My reader has divined the truth; this nautical
commander, terrible to the foe, was in complete and happy subjugation
to his daughter, our heroine.

As he was taking leave, Dolignan saw his divinity glide into
the drawing-room. He followed her, observed a sweet consciousness
deepen into confusion; she tried to laugh, and cried instead, and
then she smiled again; when he kissed her hand at the door it was
"George" and "Marian" instead of "Captain" this and "Miss" the
other.

A reasonable time after this (for my tale is merciful and skips
formalities and torturing delays) these two were very happy; they