“I expected as much,” said she, when told of the result, “but it matters not.  I am yours, and I’ll never marry another.”

The approach of the servants prevented any further conversation, and with a hurried adieu they parted.  A few days afterward, as Mrs. Livingstone, sat in her large easy-chair before the glowing grate, Captain Atherton was announced, and shown at once into her room.  To do Mrs. Livingstone justice, we must say that she had long debated the propriety of giving Anna, in all the freshness of her girlhood, to a man old as her father, but any hesitancy she had heretofore felt, had now vanished.  The crisis had come, and when the captain, as he had two or three times before done, broached the subject, urging her to a decision, she replied that she was willing, provided Anna’s consent could be gained.

“Pho! that’s easy enough,” said the captain, complacently rubbing together his fat hands and smoothing his colored whiskers—­“Bring her in here, and I’ll coax her in five minutes.”

Anna was sitting with her grandmother and ’Lena, when word came that her mother wished to see her, the servant adding, with a titter, that “Mas’r Atherton thar too.”

Instinctively she knew why she was sent for, and turning white as marble, she begged her cousin to go with her.  But ’Lena refused, soothing the agitated girl, and begging her to be calm.  “You’ve only to be decided,” said she, “and it will soon be over.  Captain Atherton, I am sure, will not insist when he sees how repugnant to your feelings it is.”

But Anna knew her own weakness—­she could never say, in her mother’s presence, what she felt—­and trembling like an aspen, she descended the stairs, meeting in the lower hall her brother, who asked what was the matter.

“Oh, John, John,” she cried, “Captain Atherton is in there with mother, and they have sent for me.  What shall I do?”

“Be a woman,” answered John Jr.  “Tell him no in good broad English, and if the old fellow insists, I’ll blow his brains out!”

But the Captain did not insist.  He was too cunning for that, and when, with a burst of tears, Anna told him she could not be his wife because she loved another, he said, good-humoredly, “Well, well, never mind spoiling those pretty blue eyes.  I’m not such an old savage as you think me.  So we’ll compromise the matter this way.  If you really love Malcolm, why, marry him, and on your bridal day I’ll make you a present of a nice little place I have in Frankfort; but if, on the other hand, Malcolm proves untrue, you must promise to have me.  Come, that’s a fair bargain.  What do you say?”

“Malcolm will never prove untrue,” answered Anna.

“Of course not,” returned the captain.  “So you are safe in promising.’

“But what good will it do you?” queried Anna.

“No good, in particular,” said the captain.  “It’s only a whim of mine, to which I thought you might perhaps agree, in consideration of my offer.”