So I saw that she had tricked me, and taken her watch at night.  For I slept like a trooper after a day’s forage.  As to what I might have said in my dreams—­that thought made me red as an apple.

“Dorothy, Dorothy,” says her mother, smiling, “you would provoke a saint.”

“Which would be better fun than teasing a sinner,” replies the minx, with a little face at me.  “Mr. Carvel, a gentleman craves the honour of an audience from your Excellency.”

“A gentleman!”

“Even so.  He presents a warrant from your Excellency’s physician.”

With that she disappeared, Mrs. Manners going after her.  And who should come bursting in at the door but my Lord Comyn?  He made one rush at me, and despite my weakness bestowed upon me a bear’s hug.

“Oh, Richard,” cried he, when he had released me, “I give you my oath that I never hoped to see you rise from that bed when we laid you there.  But they say that love works wondrous cures, and, egad, I believe that now.  ’Tis love is curing you, my lad.”

He held me off at arm’s length, the old-time affection beaming from his handsome face.

“What am I to say to you, Jack?” I answered.  And my voice was all but gone, for the sight of him revived the memory of every separate debt of the legion I owed him.  “How am I to piece words enough together to thank you for this supreme act of charity?”

“’Od’s, you may thank your own devilish thick head,” said my Lord Comyn.  “I should never have bothered my own about you were it not for her.  Had it not been for her happiness do you imagine I would have picked you out of that crew of half-dead pirates in the Texel fort?”

I must needs brush my cheek, then, with the sleeve of my night-rail.

“And will you give me some account of this last prodigious turn you have done her?” I said.

He laughed, and pinched me playfully.

“Now are you coming to your senses,” said he.  “There was cursed little to the enterprise, Richard, and that’s the truth.  I got down to Dover, and persuaded the master of a schooner to carry me to Rotterdam.  That was not so difficult, since your Terror of the Seas was locked up safe enough in the Texel.  In Rotterdam I had a travelling-chaise stripped, and set off at the devil’s pace for the Texel.  You must know that the whole Dutch nation was in an uproar—­as much of an uproar as those boors ever reach—­over the arrival of your infamous squadron.  The Court Party and our ambassador were for having you kicked out, and the Republicans for making you at home.  I heard that their High Mightinesses had given Paul Jones the use of the Texel fort for his wounded and his prisoners, and thither I ran.  And I was even cursing the French sentry at the drawbridge in his own tongue, when up comes your commodore himself.  You may quarter me if wasn’t knocked off my feet when I recognized the identical peacock of a sea-captain we had pulled out of Castle Yard along with you, and offered a commission in the Royal Navy.”