My father, advancing, perceived me, and almost taking the squire into his affectionate salutation, said: 

‘Nothing could be more opportune than your arrival, Mr. Beltham.’

The squire rejoined:  ’I wanted to see you, Mr. Richmond; and not in public.’

‘I grant the private interview, sir, at your convenience.’

Janet went up to General Goodwin.  My father talked to me, and lost a moment in shaking Temple’s hand and saying kind things.

‘Name any hour you please, Mr. Beltham,’ he resumed; ’meantime, I shall be glad to effect the introduction between Harry’s grandfather and his Highness Prince Ernest of Eppenwelzen-Sarkeld.’

He turned.  General Goodwin was hurrying the prince up the steps, the squire at the same time retreating hastily.  I witnessed the spectacle of both parties to the projected introduction swinging round to make their escape.  My father glanced to right and left.  He covered in the airiest fashion what would have been confusion to another by carrying on a jocose remark that he had left half spoken to Temple, and involved Janet in it, and soon—­through sheer amiable volubility and his taking manner—­the squire himself for a minute or so.

‘Harry, I have to tell you she is not unhappy,’ Janet whispered rapidly.  ’She is reading of one of our great men alive now.  She is glad to be on our ground.’  Janet named a famous admiral, kindling as a fiery beacon to our blood.  She would have said more:  she looked the remainder; but she could have said nothing better fitted to spur me to the work she wanted done.  Mournfulness dropped on me like a cloud in thinking of the bright little princess of my boyhood, and the Ottilia of to-day, faithful to her early passion for our sea-heroes and my country, though it had grievously entrapped her.  And into what hands!  Not into hands which could cast one ray of honour on a devoted head.  The contrast between the sane service—­ giving men she admired, and the hopping skipping social meteor, weaver of webs, thrower of nets, who offered her his history for a nuptial acquisition, was ghastly, most discomforting.  He seemed to have entangled us all.

He said that he had.  He treated me now confessedly as a cipher.  The prince, the princess, my grandfather, and me—­he had gathered us together, he said.  I heard from him that the prince, assisted by him in the part of an adviser, saw no way of cutting the knot but by a marriage.  All were at hand for a settlement of the terms:—­Providence and destiny were dragged in.

‘Let’s have no theatrical talk,’ I interposed.

‘Certainly, Richie; the plainest English,’ he assented.

This was on the pier, while he bowed and greeted passing figures.  I dared not unlink my arm, for fear of further mischief.  I got him to my rooms, and insisted on his dining there.

‘Dry bread will do,’ he said.

My anticipations of the nature of our wrestle were correct.  But I had not expected him to venture on the assertion that the prince was for the marriage.  He met me at every turn with this downright iteration.  ’The prince consents:  he knows his only chance is to yield.  I have him fast.’