farewell to Dorothy. I will not recount the history of that defeat, my
dears. Nay, to this day I know not how she accomplished the matter. Not
once had she asked me to remain, or referred to my going. Nor had I
spoken of it, weakling that I was. She had come down in the pink
lutestring, smiling but pale; and traces of tears in her eyes, I thought.
From that moment I knew that I was defeated. It was she herself who had
proposed going with me to see the Betsy sail.

"I will drink some Madeira to wish you Godspeed, captain," I said.

"What is the matter with you, Richard?" Dolly cried; "you are as sour as
my Lord Sandwich after a bad Newmarket. Why, captain," said she, "I
really believe he wants to go, too. The swain pines for his provincial
beauty."

Poor John Paul! He had not yet learned that good society is seldom
literal.

"Upon my soul, Miss Manners, there you do him wrong," he retorted, with
ludicrous heat; "you, above all, should know for whom he pines."

"He has misled you by praising me. This Richard, despite his frank
exterior, is most secretive."

"There you have hit him, Miss Manners," he declared; "there you have hit
him! We were together night and day, on the sea and on the road, and,
while I poured out my life to him, the rogue never once let fall a hint
of the divine Miss Dorothy. 'Twas not till I got to London that I knew
of her existence, and then only by a chance. You astonish me. You speak
of a young lady in Maryland?"