"Oh, horridly!" cried Miss Hunter--"and I, that always faint at the sight of blood!"

Afraid that the young lady would again spoil her part in the acting, and lose all the advantages which might result from the combined effect of the pretty ear and of compa.s.sion, Mrs. Beaumont endeavoured to take off her attention from the wound, by attacking her ear-rings.

"My love," said she, "don't wear these ear-rings any more, for I a.s.sure you there is no possibility of shutting or opening them, without hurting you."

This expedient, however, nearly proved fatal in its consequences.

Miss Hunter entered most warmly into the defence of her ear-rings; and appealed to Mr. Beaumont to confirm her decision, that they were the prettiest and best ear-rings in the world. Unluckily, they did not particularly suit his fancy, and the young lady, who had, but half an hour before, professed that she could never be of a different opinion in any thing from that of the man she loved, now pettishly declared that she could not and would not give up her taste. Incensed still more by a bow of submission, but not of conviction, from Mr. Beaumont, she went on regardless of her dearest Mrs. Beaumont's frowns, and vehemently maintained her judgment, quoting, with triumphant volubility, innumerable precedents of ladies, "who had just bought _the very same_ ear-rings, and whose taste she believed n.o.body would dispute."

Mr. Beaumont had seen enough, now and upon many other occasions, to be convinced that it is not on matters of consequence that ladies are apt to grow most angry; and he stood confirmed in his belief that those who in theory professed to have such a humble opinion of their own abilities that they cannot do or understand any thing useful, are often, in practice, the most p.r.o.ne to insist upon the infallibility of their taste and judgment. Mrs. Beaumont, who saw with one glance of her quick eye what pa.s.sed at this moment in her son's mind, sighed, and said to herself--"How impossible to manage a fool, who ravels, as fast as one weaves, the web of her fortune!"

Yet though Mrs. Beaumont perceived and acknowledged the impracticability of managing a fool for a single hour, it was one of the favourite objects of her manoeuvres to obtain this very fool for a daughter-in-law, with the hope of governing her for life. So inconsistent are cunning people, even of the best abilities; so ill do they calculate the value of their ultimate objects, however ingeniously they devise their means, or adapt them to their ends.

During this walk Mr. Palmer had taken no part in the conversation; he had seemed engrossed with his own thoughts, or occupied with observing the beauties of the place. Tired with her walk--for Mrs. Beaumont always complained of being fatigued when she was vexed, thus at once concealing her vexation, and throwing the faults of her mind upon her body--she stretched herself upon a sofa as soon as she reached the house, nor did she recover from her exhausted state till she cast her eyes upon a tamborine, which she knew would afford means of showing Miss Hunter's figure and graces to advantage. Slight as this resource may seem, Mrs. Beaumont well knew that slighter still have often produced great effects. Soon afterward she observed her son smile repeatedly as he read a pa.s.sage in some book that lay upon the table, and she had the curiosity to take up the book when he turned away. She found that it was c.u.mberland's Memoirs, and saw the following little poem marked with reiterated lines of approbation:

"Why, Affectation, why this mock grimace? Go, silly thing, and hide that simp'ring face. Thy lisping prattle, and thy mincing gait, All thy false mimic fooleries I hate; For thou art Folly's counterfeit, and she Who is right foolish hath the better plea; Nature's true idiot I prefer to thee.

Why that soft languish? Why that drawling tone? Art sick, art sleepy?

Get thee hence: begone. I laugh at all thy pretty baby tears, Those flutt'rings, faintings, and unreal fears.

Can they deceive us? Can such mumm'ries move, Touch us with pity, or inspire with love? No, Affectation, vain is all thy art! Those eyes may wander over ev'ry part; They'll never find their pa.s.sage to the heart."

Mrs. Beaumont, the moment she had read these lines, perceived why her son had smiled. The portrait seemed really to have been drawn from Miss Hunter, and the lines were so _a propos_ to the scene which had just pa.s.sed during the walk, that it was impossible to avoid the application.

Mrs. Beaumont shut the book hastily as her dear Albina approached, for she was afraid that the young lady would have known her own picture.

So few people, however, even of those much wiser than Miss Hunter, know themselves, that she need not have been alarmed. But she had no longer leisure to devote her thoughts to this subject, for Mr. Walsingham, who had been out riding, had by this time returned; and the moment he entered the room, Mrs. Beaumont's attention was directed to him and to Mr. Palmer. She introduced them to each other, with many expressions of regret that they should not sooner have met.

Characters that are free from artifice immediately coalesce, as metals that are perfectly pure can be readily cemented together. Mr. Palmer and Mr. Walsingham were intimate in half an hour. There was an air of openness and sincerity about Mr. Walsingham; a freedom and directness in his conversation, which delighted Mr. Palmer.

"I am heartily glad we have met at last, my good cousin Walsingham,"

said he: "very sorry should I have been to have left the country without becoming acquainted with you: and now I wish your gallant captain was arrived. I am to set off the day after to-morrow, and I am sadly afraid I shall miss seeing him."

Mr. Walsingham said, that as they expected him every hour, he hoped Mr. Palmer would persuade Mrs. Beaumont to spend the day at Walsingham House.

Mrs. Beaumont dared not object. On the contrary, it was now her policy to pretend the fondest friendship for all the Walsingham family: yet, all the time, pursuing her plan of preventing Mr. Palmer from discerning their real characters and superior merit, she managed with great dexterity to keep the conversation as much as possible upon general topics, and tried to prevent Mr. Palmer from being much alone with Mr. Walsingham, for she dreaded their growing intimacy. After dinner, however, when the ladies retired, the gentlemen drew their chairs close together, and had a great deal of conversation on interesting subjects.

The most interesting was Captain Walsingham: Mr. Palmer earnestly desired to hear the particulars of his history.

"And from whom," said young Beaumont, turning to Mr. Walsingham, "can he hear them better than from Captain Walsingham's guardian and friend?"

CHAPTER X.

"Yet never seaman more serenely brave Led Britain's conquering squadrons o'er the wave."

"Friends are not always the best biographers," said Mr. Walsingham; "but I will try to be impartial. My ward's first desire to be a sailor was excited, as he has often since told me, by reading Robinson Crusoe. When he was scarcely thirteen he went out in the Resolute, a frigate, under the command of Captain Campbell. Campbell was an excellent officer, and very strict in all that related to order and discipline. It was his principle and his practice never to forgive _a first offence_; by which the number of second faults was considerably diminished. My ward was not much pleased at first with his captain; but he was afterwards convinced that this strictness was what made a man of him. He was buffeted about, and shown the rough of life; made to work hard, and submit to authority.

To reason he was always ready to yield; and by degrees he learned that his first duty as a sailor was implicit obedience. In due time he was made lieutenant: in this situation, his mixed duties of command and obedience were difficult, because his first-lieutenant, the captain's son, was jealous of him.

"Walsingham found it a more difficult task to win the confidence of the son than it had been to earn the friendship of the father. His punctuality in obeying orders, and his respectful manner to the lieutenant, availed but little; for young Campbell still viewed him with scornful yet with jealous eyes, imagining that he only wanted to show himself the better officer.

"Of the falsehood of these suspicions Walsingham had at last an opportunity of giving unquestionable proof. It happened one day that Lieutenant Campbell, impatient at seeing a sailor doing some work awkwardly on the outside of the vessel, s.n.a.t.c.hed the rope from his hand, and swore he would do it himself. In his hurry, Campbell missed his footing, and fell overboard:--he could not swim. Walsingham had the presence of mind to order the ship to be put about, and plunged instantly into the water to save his rival. With much exertion he reached Campbell, supported him till the boat was lowered down, and got him safe aboard again."

"Just like himself!" cried young Beaumont; "all he ever wanted was opportunity to show his soul."

"The first-lieutenant's jealousy was now changed into grat.i.tude,"

continued Mr. Walsingham; "and from this time forward, instead of suffering from that petty rivalship by which he used to be obstructed, Walsingham enjoyed the entire confidence of young Campbell. This good understanding between him and his brother officer not only made their every day lives pleasant, but in times of difficulty secured success.

For three years that they lived together after this period, and during which time they were ordered to every quarter of the globe, they never had the slightest dispute, either in the busiest or the idlest times. At length, in some engagement with a Dutch ship, the particulars of which I forget, Lieutenant Campbell was mortally wounded: his last words were--'Walsingham, comfort my father.' That was no easy task. Stern as Captain Campbell seemed, the loss of his son was irreparable. He never shed a tear when he was told it was all over, but said, 'G.o.d's will be done;' and turning into his cabin, desired to be left alone. Half an hour afterwards he sent for Walsingham, who found him quite calm. 'We must see and do our duty together to the last,' said he.

"He exerted himself strenuously, and to all outward appearance was, as the sailors said, the same man as ever; but Walsingham, who knew him better, saw that his heart was broken, and that he wished for nothing but an honourable death. One morning as he was on deck looking through his gla.s.s, he called to Walsingham; 'Your eyes are better than mine,'

said he; 'look here, and tell me, do you see yonder sail--she's French?

Le Magnanime frigate, if I'm not mistaken. 'Yes,' said Walsingham, 'I know her by the patch in her main sail.'--'We'll give her something to do,' said Campbell, 'though she's so much our superior. Please G.o.d, before the sun's over our heads, you shall have her in tow, Walsingham.'

'_We_ shall, I trust,' said Walsingham.--'Perhaps not _we_; for I own I wish to fall,' said Campbell. 'You are first-lieutenant now; I can't leave my men under better command, and I hope the Admiralty will give you the ship, if you give it to his Majesty.'--Then turning to the sailors, Captain Campbell addressed them with a countenance unusually cheerful; and, after a few words of encouragement, gave orders to clear decks for action. 'Walsingham, you'll see to every thing whilst I step down to write.' He wrote, as it was afterwards found, two letters, both concerning Walsingham's interests. The frigate with which they had to engage was indeed far superior to them in force; but Campbell trusted to the good order and steadiness as well as to the courage of his men. The action was long and obstinate. Twice the English attempted to board the enemy, and twice were repulsed. The third time, just as Captain Campbell had seized hold of the French colours, which hung in rags over the side of the enemy's ship, he received a wound in his breast, fell back into Walsingham's arms, and almost instantly expired. The event of this day was different from what Campbell had expected, for _Le Succes_ of fifty guns appeared in sight; and, after a desperate engagement with her, in which Walsingham was severely wounded, and every other officer on board killed or wounded, Walsingham saw that nothing was left but to make a wanton sacrifice of the remainder of his crew, or to strike.

"After a contest of six hours, he struck to _Le Succes_. Perfect silence on his deck; a loud and insulting shout from the enemy!

"No sooner had Walsingham struck, than La Force, the captain of _Le Succes_ hailed him, and ordered him to come in his own boat, and to deliver his sword. Walsingham replied, that 'his sword, so demanded, should never be delivered but with his life.'[2] The Frenchman did not think proper to persist; but soon after sent his lieutenant on board the Resolute, where the men were found at their quarters with lighted matches in their hands, ready to be as good as their word. La Force, the captain of _Le Succes_, was a sailor of fortune, who had risen by chance, not merit."

"Ay, ay," interrupted Mr. Palmer, "so I thought; and there was no great merit, or glory either, in a French fifty gun taking an English frigate, after standing a six hours' contest with another ship. Well, my dear sir, what became of poor Walsingham? How did this rascally Frenchman treat his prisoners?"

"Scandalously!" cried Beaumont; "and yet Walsingham is so generous that he will never let me d.a.m.n the nation, for what he says was only the fault of an individual, who disgraced it."

"Well, let me hear and judge for myself," said Mr. Palmer.

"La Force carried the Resolute in triumph into a French port," continued Mr. Walsingham. "Vain of displaying his prisoners, he marched them up the country, under pretence that they would not be safe in a sea-port.

Cambray was the town in which they were confined. Walsingham found the officers of the garrison very civil to him at first; but when they saw that he was not fond of high play, and that he declined being of their parties at billiards and _vingt-un_, they grew tired of him; for without these resources they declared they should perish with _ennui_ in a country town. Even under the penalty of losing all society, Walsingham resisted every temptation to game, and submitted to live with the strictest economy rather than to run in debt."

"But did you never send him any money? Or did not he get your remittances?" said Mr. Palmer.

"My dear sir, by some delays of letters, we did not hear for two months where he was imprisoned."

"And he was reduced to the greatest distress," pursued Beaumont; "for he had shared all he had, to the utmost farthing, with his poor fellow-prisoners."

"Like a true British sailor!" said Mr. Palmer. "Well, sir, I hope he contrived to make his escape?"

"No, for he would not break his parole," said Beaumont,

"His parole! I did not know he was on his parole," said Mr. Palmer.

"Then certainly he could not break it."

"He had two tempting opportunities, I can a.s.sure you," said Beaumont; "one offered by the commandant's lady, who was not insensible to his merit; the other, by the grat.i.tude of some poor servant, whom he had obliged--Mr. Walsingham can tell you all the particulars."

"No, I need not detail the circ.u.mstances; it is enough to tell you, sir, that he withstood the temptations, would not break his parole, and remained four months a prisoner in Cambray. Like the officers of the garrison, he should have drunk or gamed, or else he must have died of vexation, he says, if he had not fortunately had a taste for reading, and luckily procured books from a good old priest's library. At the end of four months the garrison of Cambray was changed; and instead of a set of dissipated officers, there came a well-conducted regiment, under the command of M. de Villars, an elderly officer of sense and discretion."

"An excellent man!" cried Beaumont: "I love him with all my soul, though I never saw him. But I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Mr.

Walsingham."

"A prattling hairdresser at Cambray first prepossessed M. de Villars in Walsingham's favour, by relating a number of anecdotes intended to throw abuse and ridicule upon the English captain, to convict him of misanthropy and economy; of having had his hair dressed but twice since he came to Cambray; of never having frequented the society of Madame la Marquise de Marsillac, the late commandant's lady, for more than a fortnight after his arrival, and of having actually been detected in working with his own hand with smiths' and carpenters' tools. Upon the strength of the hairdresser's information, M. de Villars paid the English captain a visit; was pleased by his conversation, and by all that he observed of his conduct and character.