“But you need not keep saying so,” whined Rosa.  “And that is not all, dear papa; the worst of it is, Mr. Falcon proposing to me has opened my eyes.  I am not fit to be trusted alone.  I am too fond of dancing, and flirting will follow somehow.  Oh, think how ill I was a few months ago, and how unhappy you were about me!  They were killing me.  He came and saved me.  Yes, papa, I owe all this health and strength to Christopher.  I did take them off, the very next day, and see the effect of it and my long walks.  I owe him my life, and what I value far more, my good looks.  La!  I wish I had not told you that.  And after all this, don’t I belong to my Christopher?  How could I be happy or respect myself if I married any one else?  And oh, papa! he looks wan and worn.  He has been fretting for his Simpleton.  Oh, dear!  I mustn’t think of that—­it makes me cry; and you don’t like scenes, do you?”

“Hate ’em!”

“Well, then,” said Rosa, coaxingly, “I’ll tell you how to end them.  Marry your Simpleton to the only man who is fit to take care of her.  Oh, papa! think of his deep, deep affection for me, and pray don’t snub him if—­by any chance—­after dinner—­he should happen to ask you—­something.”

“Oh, then it is possible that, by the merest chance, the gentleman you have accidentally asked to dinner, may, by some strange fortuity, be surprised into asking me a second time for something very much resembling my daughter’s hand—­eh?”

Rosa colored high.  “He might, you know.  How can I tell what gentlemen will say when the ladies have retired and they are left alone with—­with”—­

“With the bottle.  Ay, that’s true; when the wine is in, the wit is out.”

Said Rosa, “Well, if he should happen to be so foolish, pray think of me; of all we owe him, and how much I love him, and ought to love him.”  She then bestowed a propitiatory kiss, and ran off to dress for dinner; it was a much longer operation to-day than usual.

Dr. Staines was punctual.  Mr. Lusignan commented favorably on that.

“He always is,” said Rosa, eagerly.

They dined together.  Mr. Lusignan chatted freely, but Staines and Rosa were under a feeling of restraint, Staines in particular; he could not help feeling that before long his fate must be settled.  He would either obtain Rosa’s hand, or have to resign her to some man of fortune who would step in; for beauty such as hers could not long lack brilliant offers.  Longing, though dreading, to know his fate, he was glad when dinner ended.

Rosa sat with them a little while after dinner, then rose, bestowed another propitiatory kiss on her father’s head, and retired with a modest blush, and a look at Christopher that was almost divine.

It inspired him with the courage of lions, and he commenced the attack at once.

CHAPTER V.

“Mr. Lusignan,” said he, “the last time I was here you gave me some hopes that you might be prevailed on to trust that angel’s health and happiness to my care.”