Like a prudent officer, his attacks were all masked, and, like a great officer, they seldom failed of success.

The young couple were thrown in each other’s way, and as Isabel was extremely attractive, somewhat the opposite to himself in ardor of temperament and vivacity, modest, and sensible, it cannot be expected that the association was maintained by the youth with perfect impunity.  Within a couple of months he fancied himself desperately in love with Isabel Howell; and, in truth, he had some reason for the supposition.

The general watched every movement of his son with a wary and vigilant eye—­occasionally adding fuel to the flame, by drawing his attention to projects of matrimony in other quarters, until George began to think he was soon to undergo a trial of his constancy, and in consequence he armed himself with a double portion of admiration for his Isabel, in order to enable himself to endure the persecution; while the admiral several times endangered the success of the whole enterprise by volunteer contributions to the hopes of the young man, which only escaped producing an opposite effect to that which was intended, by being mistaken for the overflowings of good nature and friendship.

After suffering his son to get, as he thought, sufficiently entangled in the snares of Cupid, Sir Frederick determined to fire a volley from one of his masked batteries, which he rightly judged would bring on a general engagement.  They were sitting at the table after dinner, alone, when the general took the advantage of the name of Miss Howell being accidentally mentioned, to say—­

“By the by, George, my friend the admiral said something yesterday on the subject of your being so much with his daughter.  I wish you to be cautious, and not to give the old sailor offence in any way, for he is my particular friend.”

“He need be under no violent apprehensions,” cried George, coloring highly with shame and pride, “I am sure a Denbigh is no unworthy match for a daughter of Sir Peter Howell.”

“Oh! to be sure not, boy, we are as old a house as there is in the kingdom, and as noble too; but the admiral has queer notions, and, perhaps, he has some cub of a sailor in his eye for a son-in-law.  Be prudent, my boy, be prudent; that is all I ask of you.”

The general, satisfied with the effect he had produced, carelessly arose from his seat, and joined Lady Margaret in her drawing-room.

George remained for several minutes musing on his father’s singular request, as well as the admiral’s caution, when he sprang from his seat, caught up his hat and sword, and in ten minutes rang at Sir Peter’s door in Grosvenor Square.  He was admitted, and ascending to the drawing-room, he met the admiral on his way out.  Nothing was further from the thoughts of the veteran than a finesse like the general’s; and, delighted to see George on the battle-ground, he pointed significantly over his shoulder towards the door of the room Isabel was in, and exclaimed, with a good-natured smile,