“To speak truth, Dolly,” said I, “I was wondering how the commodore is to get away from the Texel, with half the British navy lying in wait outside.”

“Do not worry your head about that,” said she, setting down the tray; “it will be mere child’s play to him.  Oh but I should like to see your commodore again, and tell him how much I love him.

“I pray that you may have the chance,” I replied.

With a marvellous quickness she had tied the napkin beneath my chin, not so much as looking at the knot.  Then she stepped to the mantel and took down one of Mr. Wedgwood’s cups and dishes, and wiping them with her apron, filled the cup with fragrant tea, which she tendered me with her eyes sparkling.

“Your Excellency is the first to be honoured with this service,” says she, with a curtsey.

I was as a man without a tongue, my hunger gone from sheer happiness—­and fright.  And yet eating the breakfast with a relish because she had made it.  She busied herself about the room, dusting here and tidying there, and anon throwing a glance at me to see if I needed anything.  My eyes followed her hither and thither.  When I had finished, she undid the napkin, and brushed the crumbs from the coverlet.

“You are not going?” I said, with dismay.

“Did you wish anything more, sir?” she asked.

“Oh, Dorothy,” I cried, “it is you I want, and you will not come near me.”

For an instant she stood irresolute.  Then she put down the tray and came over beside me.

“Do you really want me, sir?”

“Dorothy,” I began, “I must first tell you that I have some guess at the sacrifice you are making for my sake, and of the trouble and danger which I bring you.”

Without more ado she put her hand over my mouth.

“No,” she said, reddening, “you shall tell me nothing of the sort.”

I seized her hand, however it struggled, and holding it fast, continued: 

“And I have learned that you have been watching with me by night, and working by day, when you never should have worked at all.  To think that you should be reduced to that, and I not know it!”

Her eyes sought mine for a fleeting second.

“Why, you silly boy, I have made a fortune out of my cookery.  And fame, too, for now am I known from Mary-le-bone to Chelsea, while before my name was unheard of out of little Mayfair.  Indeed, I would not have missed the experience for a lady-in-waiting-ship.  I have learned a deal since I saw you last, sir.  I know that the world, like our Continental money, must not be taken for the price that is stamped upon it.  And as for the watching with you,” said my lady, “that had to be borne with as cheerfully as might be.  Since I had sent off for you, I was in duty bound to do my share toward your recovery.  I was even going to add that this watching was a pleasure,—­our curate says the sense of duty performed is sure to be.  But you used to cry out the most terrifying things to frighten me:  the pattering of blood and the bumping of bodies on the decks, and the black rivulets that ran and ran and ran and never stopped; and strange, rough commands I could not understand; and the name of your commodore whom you love so much.  And often you would repeat over and over:  ’I have not yet begun, to fight, I have not yet begun to fight!’”