CHAPTER XXIII.
"Arthur, my dear fellow, I understand from Frederic that, during your short residence in town, you ventured to fall in love?"
A torrent of blushes rose to the brow of the accused, and he gave Frederic an angry look. "Was this kind, Lord Meersbrook?" broke from his lips.
"It was meant for kindness, of a quality you are not likely to meet again, even among your naval friends, Arthur, for your brother wants me to disinherit him for the sake of conciliating Lady Anne Granard."
"Lady Anne be ! I beg pardon, but she is no more like Aunt Margaret than a jib boom's like a compass, and the last woman living I should choose to knuckle to. I would not take a rood of land from Frederic to be appointed to a man-of-war to-morrow morning, for I looked on it as his (God grant it may be long ere he touch it!) ever since I was the height of a handspike. Why, the place is positively sacred, as old as the hills, and belongs to eldest sons of eldest sons from generation to generation. For aught I know, Adam planted the garden, and Eve watered the
