The captain made no answer, but gazed steadily into the face of the speaker.

“Therefore,” continued Mr. Easterfield, “I will simply state that my wife and I have very good reason to believe that your niece is about to engage herself in marriage; and I will only add that we are very sorry, indeed, that this should have occurred under our roof.”

A sudden and curious change came over the face of the captain; a light sparkled in his eye, and a faint flush, as if of pleasure, was visible under his swarthy skin.  He leaned toward his companion.

“Is it Dick Lancaster?” he asked quickly.

Mr. Easterfield answered gravely:  “I wish it were, but I am very sorry to say it is not.”

The light went out of the captain’s eye.  He leaned back on his bench and the little flush in his cheeks was succeeded by a somber coldness.  “Very good,” said he; “I don’t want to hear anything more about it, and, what is more, it would not be right for you to tell me, even if I did want to know.  It is none of my business.”

“Now, really, Captain Asher,” began Mr. Easterfield.

“No, sir,” the captain interrupted.  “It is none of my business, and I don’t want to hear anything about it.  And now, sir, I would like to tell you something.  It is something I thought you came here to ask about, and I did not like it, but now I want to tell you of my own free will, in confidence.  That is to say, I don’t want you to speak of it to anybody in your house.  I suppose you have heard something about my intending to marry a woman in town?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Easterfield, “I can not deny that I have, but I considered it was entirely your own affair, and I had not—­”

“Of course,” interrupted the captain, “and I want to tell you—­but I don’t want my niece to hear it as coming from me—­that that whole thing is a most abominable lie!  That woman has been trying to make people believe I am going to marry her, and she has made a good many believe it, but I would rather cut my throat than marry her.  But I have told her what I think of her in a way she can not mistake.  And that ends her!  I tell you this, Mr. Easterfield, because I believe you are a good man, and you certainly seem to be a friendly man, and I would like you to know it.  I would have liked very much to tell everybody, especially my own flesh and blood, but now I assure you, sir, I am too proud to have her know it through me.  Let her go on and marry anybody she pleases, and let her think anything she pleases about me.  She has been satisfied with her own opinion of me without giving me a chance to explain to her, or to tell her the truth, and now she can stay satisfied with it until somebody else sets her straight.”

“But this is very hard, captain,” said Mr. Easterfield; “hard on you, hard on her, and hard on all of us, I may say.”

The captain made no answer to these words, and did not appear to hear them.  “I tell you, Mr. Easterfield,” he said presently, “that I did not know until now how much I cared for that girl.  I don’t mind saying this to you because you come to me like a friend, and I believe in you.  Yes, sir, I did not know how much I cared for her, and it is pretty hard on me to find out how little she cares for me.”