Chapter 43

No little art and management had been necessary to make the admiral
auxiliary to the indirect plan proposed by his friend to bring George and
Isabel together. This, however, effected, the general turned his whole
strategy to the impression to be made on the heart of the young gentleman.

Sir Frederick Denbigh had the same idea of the virtue of management as the
Dowager Lady Chatterton, but he understood human nature better.

Like a prudent officer, his attacks were all masked, and, like a great
officer, they seldom failed of success.

The young couple were thrown in each other's way, and as Isabel was
extremely attractive, somewhat the opposite to himself in ardor of
temperament and vivacity, modest, and sensible, it cannot be expected that
the association was maintained by the youth with perfect impunity. Within
a couple of months he fancied himself desperately in love with Isabel
Howell; and, in truth, he had some reason for the supposition.

The general watched every movement of his son with a wary and vigilant
eye--occasionally adding fuel to the flame, by drawing his attention to
projects of matrimony in other quarters, until George began to think he
was soon to undergo a trial of his constancy, and in consequence he armed
himself with a double portion of admiration for his Isabel, in order to
enable himself to endure the persecution; while the admiral several times
endangered the success of the whole enterprise by volunteer contributions
to the hopes of the young man, which only escaped producing an opposite
effect to that which was intended, by being mistaken for the overflowings
of good nature and friendship.

After suffering his son to get, as he thought, sufficiently entangled in
the snares of Cupid, Sir Frederick determined to fire a volley from one of
his masked batteries, which he rightly judged would bring on a general
engagement. They were sitting at the table after dinner, alone, when the
general took the advantage of the name of Miss Howell being accidentally
mentioned, to say--

"By the by, George, my friend the admiral said something yesterday on the
subject of your being so much with his daughter. I wish you to be
cautious, and not to give the old sailor offence in any way, for he is my
particular friend."

"He need be under no violent apprehensions," cried George, coloring highly
with shame and pride, "I am sure a Denbigh is no unworthy match for a
daughter of Sir Peter Howell."

"Oh! to be sure not, boy, we are as old a house as there is in the
kingdom, and as noble too; but the admiral has queer notions, and,
perhaps, he has some cub of a sailor in his eye for a son-in-law. Be
prudent, my boy, be prudent; that is all I