“I wish we hadn’t happened upon Phil Ross,” Edward remarked in an undertone far from hilarious.  “I fear he will, according to custom, make himself very disagreeable to you.”

“I have been thinking it over, Ned,” she answered, “and have come to the conclusion that the better plan will be for you to take the first favorable opportunity to tell him of my engagement and what is the object of our journey.”

“I presume such a course will be likely to save you a good deal of annoyance,” Edward said; “and as we are old acquaintances, and he evidently full of a curiosity that will assuredly lead to his asking some questions, I think it will be no difficult matter to give him the information without seeming to thrust it upon him.”

At that moment Philip came up and joined them, helping himself to a seat on Elsie’s other side.  He seemed to be, as of old, on the best of terms with himself and very graciously disposed toward Elsie.

He, too, had been thinking of the, to him, fortunate chance (Elsie would have called it providence) which had thrown them together where for some days they were likely to see much of each other.  He had heard a report of her engagement, but refused to credit it.  “She had always been fond of him and it wasn’t likely she would throw herself away on somebody else.”  And now he had come to the decision to offer her his hand, heart, and fortune without delay.  He was rich enough, and why should he keep her in suspense any longer?

He indulged in a few trivial commonplaces, then invited her to take a turn with him on the deck.

But she declined with thanks, “he must excuse her for she was greatly fatigued and must retire at once.”  And with a kindly “Good-night,” she withdrew to her state-room, Edward again giving her the support of his arm.

Philip was literally struck dumb with surprise, and did not recover his speech until she was gone.

Edward returned presently, and as he resumed his seat by Philip’s side the latter asked, “Is your sister out of health, Ned?”

“No; but we are just off a long and fatiguing journey; she was not at her best state either when we left home, because of care and nursing of the sick children.  And in addition to all that she is enduring much grief and anxiety.”

“May I ask on what account?”

“Yes; I have no objection to telling you the whole story, considering what old acquaintances we are, and the life-long friendship of our mothers.  Lester Leland, Elsie’s betrothed, is lying very ill in Rome, and we are making all haste to join him there.”

“Her betrothed!” cried Philip, starting to his feet, “her betrothed did you say? why—­why, I’ve always expected to marry her myself; thought it was an understood thing in both families, and——­”

“I am sure I do not know upon what grounds you entertained such an idea,” returned Edward in a tone of mingled indignation and disgust.