“But I declare I think you judge him too harshly. Though I am not inclined to be his friend, yet I must do him the justice to say, he has more good qualities than you allow, or rather than you have seen yet. He is passionately fond of Amelia. Oh, there you’re wrong, quite wrong; he is passionately in love, whatever he may pretend to the contrary.” “Pretend! and why should the puppy pretend not to be in love?” “Pride, pride and fashion. Young men are so governed by fashion, and so afraid of ridicule. There’s a set of _fashionables_ now, with whom love is a _bore, _you know.” “I know! no, indeed, I know no such thing,” said Mr. Palmer. “But this I know, that I hate pretences of all sorts; and if the man is in love, I should, for my part, like him the better for showing it.” “So he will, when you know him a little better. You are quite a stranger, and he is bashful.” “Bashful! Never saw so confident a man in any country.” “But he is shy under all that.” “Under! But I don’t like characters where every thing is under something different from what appears at top.” “Well, take a day or two more to study him. Though I am his enemy, I must deal fairly by him, for poor Amelia’s sake.” “You are a good mother, madam, an indulgent mother, and I honour and love you for it. I’ll follow your example, and bear with this spendthrift-miser-coxcomb sprig of quality for a day or two more, and try to like him, for Amelia’s sake. But, if he’s not worthy of her, he sha’n’t have her, by St. George, he shall not--shall he, madam?” “Oh, no, no; good night, my good sir.” What the manoeuvres of the next day might have effected, and how far Sir John Hunter profited by the new instructions which were given to him in consequence of this conversation, can never be accurately ascertained, because the whole united plan of operations was disturbed by a new and unforeseen event. CHAPTER VIII. “Un volto senza senno, Un petto senza core, un cor senz’ alma, Un’ alma senza fede.” GUARINI. “Here’s glorious news of Captain Walsingham!” cried young Beaumont; “I always knew he would distinguish himself if he had an opportunity; and, thank God! he has had as fine an opportunity as heart could wish. Here, mother! here, Mr. Palmer, is an account of it in this day’s paper! and here is a letter from himself, which Mr. Walsingham has just sent me.” “Oh, give _me_ the letter,” cried Mrs. Beaumont, with affected eagerness. “Let me have the paper, then,” cried Mr. Palmer. “Where are my spectacles?” “Are there any letters for _me?_” said Sir John Hunter. “Did my newspapers come? Albina, I desired that they should be forwarded here. Mrs. Beaumont, can you tell me any thing of _my_ papers?” “Dear Amelia, how interesting your brother looks when he is pleased!” Albina whispered, quite loud enough to be heard. “A most gallant action, by St. George!” exclaimed Mr. Palmer. “These are the things that keep up the honour of the British navy, and the glory of Britain.”