CHAPTER II.
"Viens donc--je te chanterai des chansons que les esprits des cimetieres m'ont apprises!" MATURIN.
"Baffled!" he exclaimed, with a slight vexed laugh, as the boat vanished from his sight.

"By a woman, too! Who would have thought it ?" Who would have thought it, indeed! Sir Philip Bruce-Errington, Baronet, the wealthy and desirable parti for whom many match-making mothers had stood knee-deep in the chilly though sparkling waters of society, ardently plying rod and line with patient persistence, vainly hoping to secure him as a husband for one of their highly proper and passionless daughters,--he, the admired, long-sought-after "eligible," was suddenly rebuffed, flouted--by whom?
A stray princess, or a peasant.

He vaguely wondered, as he lit a cigar and strolled up and down on the shore, meditating, with a puzzled, almost annoyed expression on his handsome features.

He was not accustomed to slights of any kind, however trifling; his position being commanding and enviable enough to attract flattery and friendship from most people.

He was the only son of a baronet as renowned for eccentricity as for wealth.