Wakening a little to the use of his understanding, Captain Walsingham disconcerted Mrs. Beaumont, by suddenly saying, “Then there was not any truth in the report, which I have heard with horror, that you were going to marry Miss Beaumont to Sir John Hunter?” “Then there was not any truth in the report I heard with horror, that you were going to marry yourself to a Spanish nun?” said Mrs. Beaumont, who had learned from a veteran in public warfare, that the best way to parry an attack is not to defend, but to make an assault. “My dear Captain Walsingham,” added she, with an arch smile, “I really thought you were a man of too much sense, and above all, too much courage, to be terror-struck by every idle report. You should leave such _horrors_ to us weak women--to the visionary mind. Now, I could not blame poor Amelia, if she were to ask, ‘Then was there no truth in the report of the Spanish incognita?’--No, no,” pursued Mrs. Beaumont, playfully, refusing to hear Captain Walsingham; “not to me, not to _me_, must your defence be made. Appear before your judge, appear before Amelia; I can only recommend you to mercy.” What a charming woman this Mrs. Beaumont would be, if one could feel quite sure of her sincerity, thought Captain Walsingham, as he followed the lady, who, with apparently playful, but really polite grace, thus eluded all further inquiry into her secret manoeuvres. “Here, my dearest Amelia,” cried she, “is a culprit, whom I am bringing to your august tribunal for mercy.” “For justice,” said Captain Walsingham. “Justice! Oh, the pride of the man’s heart, and the folly! Who ever talks of justice to a woman? My dear captain, talk of mercy, or cruelty, if you will; we ladies delight in being called cruel, you know, and sometimes are even pleased to be merciful--but to be just, is the last thing we think of: so now for your trial; public or private, Captain Walsingham?” “Public! as I am innocent.” “Oyes, oyes! all manner of men,” cried Mr. Beaumont. “The Spanish cause coming on!” cried Mr. Palmer: “let me hear it; and let me have a good seat that I may hear--a seat near the judge.” “Oh, you shall be judge, Mr. Palmer,” said Amelia; “and here is the best seat for our good judge.” “And you will remember,” said Mr. Beaumont, “that it is the duty of a good judge to lean towards the prisoner.” “To lean! No, to sit bolt upright, as I will if I can,” said old Mr. Palmer, entering into the pleasantry of the young people as readily as if he had been the youngest man in the company. As he looked round, his good countenance beamed with benevolent pleasure. “Now, sir captain, be pleased to inform the court what you have done, or mean to do, with a certain Spanish nun, whom, as it is confidently asserted in a letter from one of your own men, you carried off from her nunnery, and did bring, or cause to be brought, with you to England.”