Her uncle might have helped her--Sir Charles, that is--the head of the family--a childless man with plenty of money.

For some reason, however, he had opposed her match with Arthur.

A sad story! And now, when their lad is grown and the time come for him to be a soldier, he must start in the ranks.

But why in the world, if she lives at Plymouth Dock, has Archibald never mentioned his aunt to us ?" This was more than I could tell him.

And you may be sure that the name Leicester made me want to ask questions, not to answer them.
But just now Isabel came across the lawn, bearing a tray with a plateful of biscuits, a decanter of claret, and a glass.
"My dear," asked her father, "has our friend Archibald ever spoken to you of an aunt of his--a Miss Plinlimmon--residing at Plymouth Dock ?" "No, papa." She turned on me, again with that fear and appeal in her eyes, as if in some way I was persecuting her; and the decanter shook and tinkled on the rim of the glass as she poured out the claret.
The old man lifted the wine and held it between his sightless eyes and the sunshine.
"A sad story," he mused: "but, after all, the lad is young and the world young for him! Rejoice in your youth, Mr.Revel, and honour your Creator in the days of it.