“And I have accepted it,” continued Captain Monk.  “He would like the wedding to be early in the year, so you may get your rattletraps in order for it.  Tell your aunt I will give her a blank cheque for the cost, and she may fill it in.”

“Thank you, papa.”

“There’s the letter; you can read it”—­pushing one across the table to her.  “It came by special messenger last night, and I have sent my answer this morning.”

Eliza Monk glanced at the contents, which were written on rose-coloured paper.  For a moment she looked puzzled.

“Why, papa, this is from Tom Rivers!  You cannot suppose I would marry him!  A silly boy, younger than I am!  Tom Rivers is the greatest goose I know.”

“How dare you say so, Eliza?”

“Well, he is.  Look at his note!  Pink paper and a fancy edge!”

“Stuff!  Rivers is young and inexperienced, but he’ll grow older—­he is a very nice young fellow, and a capital fox-hunter.  You’d be master and mistress too—­and that would suit your book, I take it.  I want to have you settled near me, see, Eliza—­you are all I have left, or soon will be.”

“But, papa—­”

Captain Monk raised his hand for silence.

“You sent that man Hamlyn to me with a proposal for you.  Eliza; you know that would not do.  Hamlyn’s property lies in the West Indies, his home too, for all I know.  He attempted to tell me that he would not take you out there against my consent; but I know better, and what such ante-nuptial promises are worth.  It might end in your living there.”

“No, no.”

“What do you say ‘no, no’ for, like a parrot?  Circumstances might compel you.  I do not like the man, besides.”

“But why, papa?”

“I don’t know; I have never liked him from the first.  There! that’s enough.  You must be my Lady Rivers.  Poor old Tom is on his last legs.”

“Papa, I never will.”

“Listen, Eliza.  I had one trouble with Katherine; I will not have another with you.  She defied me; she left my home rebelliously to enter upon one of her own setting-up:  what came of it?  Did luck attend her?  Do you be more wise.”

“Father,” she said, moving a step forward with head uplifted; and the resolute, haughty look which rendered their faces so much alike was very conspicuous on hers, “do not let us oppose each other.  Perhaps we can each give way a little?  I have promised to be the wife of Philip Hamlyn, and that promise I will fulfil.  You wish me to live near you:  well, he can take a place in this neighbourhood and settle down in it; and on my part, I will promise you not to leave this country.  He may have to go from time to time to the West Indies; I will remain at home.”

Captain Monk looked steadily at her before he answered.  He marked the stern, uncompromising expression, the strong will in the dark eyes and in every feature, which no power, not even his, might unbend.  He thought of his elder daughter, now lying in her grave; he thought of his son, so soon to be lying beside her; he did not care to be bereft of all his children, and for once in his hard life he attempted to conciliate.