“I have not been vain enough to attribute them entirely to my own attractions.”

“You approve the homage I render to that other attraction?”

“Unfeignedly.”

“Am I so fortunate as to have her suffrage, too?”

“I have no better means of knowing than you have.”

“Indeed!  I was in hopes you might have sounded her inclinations.”

“I have scrupulously avoided it,” replied the veteran.  “I had no right to compromise you upon mere conjecture, however reasonable.  I awaited your authority to take any move in so delicate a matter.  Can you blame me?  On one side my friend’s dignity, on the other a young lady’s peace of mind, and that young lady my brother’s daughter.”

“You were right, my dear sir; I see and appreciate your reserve, your delicacy, though I am about to remove its cause.  I declare myself to you your niece’s admirer; have I your permission to address her?”

“You have, and my warmest wishes for your success.”

“Thank you.  I think I may hope to succeed, provided I have a fair chance afforded me.”

“I will take care you shall have that.”

“I should prefer not to have others buzzing about the lady whose affection I am just beginning to gain.”

“You pay this poor sailor an amazing compliment,” said Mr. Fountain, a little testily; “if he admires Lucy it can only be as a puppy is struck with the moon above.  The moon does not respond to all this wonder by descending into the whelp’s jaws—­no more will my niece.  But that is neither here nor there; you are now her declared suitor, and you have a right to stipulate; in short, you have only to say the word, and ‘exeunt Dodds,’ as the play-books say.”

“Dodds?  I have no objection to the lady.  Would it not be possible to invite her to tea alone?”

“Quite possible, but useless.  She would not stir out without her brother.”

“She seems a little person likely to give herself airs.  Well, then, in that case, though as you say I am no doubt raising Mr. Dodd to a false importance, still—­”

“Say no more; we should indulge the whims of our friends, not attack them with reasons.  You will see the Dodds no more in my house.”

“Oh, as to that, just as you please.  Perhaps they would be as well out of it,” said Talboys, with a sudden affectation of carelessness.  I must not take you too far.  Good-night.”

“Go-o-d night!”

Poor David.  He was to learn how little real hold upon society has the man who can only instruct and delight it.

Mr. Fountain bustled home, rubbing his hands with delight.  “Aha!” thought he; “jealous! actually jealous! absurdly jealous!  That is a good sign.  Who would have thought so proud a man could be jealous of a sailor?  I have found out your vulnerable point, my friend.  I’ll tell Lucy; how she will laugh.  David Dodd!  Now we know how to manage him, Lucy and I. If he freezes back again, we have but to send for David Dodd and his fiddle.”  He bustled home, and up into the drawing-room to tell Lucy Mr. Talboys had at last declared himself.  His heart felt warm.  He would settle six thousand pounds on Mrs. Talboys during his life and his whole fortune after his death.