“No,” replied Vanslyperken, “you have done wrong; and if you go on shore again, you may just give this answer, that Mr Vanslyperken don’t care a d—­n for the old woman; that she may carry her carcass to some other market, for Mr Vanslyperken would not touch her with a pair of tongs.  Will you recollect that, corporal?”

“Yes,” replied the corporal, grinding his teeth at this insult to his betrothed, “yes, mynheer, I will recollect that.  Mein Gott!  I shall not forget it.”

“Kill my dog, heh!” continued Vanslyperken, talking to himself aloud.  “Yes, yes, Frau Vandersloosh, you shall fret to some purpose.  I’ll worry down your fat for you.  Yes, yes, Madam Vandersloosh, you shall bite your nails to the quick yet.  Nothing would please you but Snarleyyow dead at your porch.  My dog, indeed!—­you may go now, corporal.”

“Mein Gott! but ve vill see as well as you, Mynheer Vanslyperken.” muttered the corporal, as he walked forward.

After dark, a man came alongside in a small boat, and desired to see Mr Vanslyperken.  As soon as he was in the cabin and the door shut, he laid some letters on the table, and without saying a word went on deck and on shore again.  At daybreak the cutter weighed, and ran with a fair wind to Portsmouth.

With what a bounding heart did Mr Vanslyperken step into the boat attired in his best!  He hardly could prevail upon himself to report his arrival to the admiral, so impatient was he to throw himself at the fair widow’s feet, and claim her promise upon his return.  He did so, however, and then proceeded to the house in Castle Street.

His heart beat rapidly as he knocked at the door, and he awaited the opening with impatience.  At last it was opened, but not by the widow’s servant.  “Is Mrs Malcolm at home?” inquired Vanslyperken.

“Malcolm, sir!” replied the woman; “do you mean the lady who was living here, and left yesterday?”

“Left yesterday!” exclaimed Vanslyperken, hardly able to stand on his feet.

“Yes, only yesterday afternoon.  Went away with a gentleman.”

“A gentleman!” exclaimed Vanslyperken, all amazement.

“Yes, sir; pray, sir, be you the officer of the king’s cutter?”

“I am!” exclaimed Vanslyperken, leaning against the door-jamb for support.

“Then, sir, here be a letter for you.”  So saying, the woman pulled up her dirty apron, then her gown, and at last arrived at a queer fustian pocket, out of which she produced the missive, which had been jumbled in company with a bit of wax, a ball of blue worsted, some halfpence, a copper thimble, and a lump of Turkey rhubarb, from all of which companions it had received a variety of hues and colours.  Vanslyperken seized the letter as soon as it was produced, and passing by the woman, went into the dining-parlour, where, with feelings of anxiety, he sat down, brushed the perspiration from his forehead, and read as follows: