Colonel Sharpe looked up, with a start. "Bless me, girl! have some regard for your uncle's dignity," he said, drawing her down on the arm of the chair. "It seems to me, young lady, that you are a trifle clever in the kissing art, to never have been kissed yourself." "For shame, sir! You, a royal Governor--no, I mean a Lord Baltimore's Governor--to intimate so scandalous a thing. It may be, sir, that, as to you, I could truthfully not _intimate_.... Tell me, who is the young man that came with Mr. Dulany." "Ho, ho! That is the reason for the kiss: to make me amenable. Why did you not say, 'the handsome young man'?" "The handsome young man, then; indeed, the very handsome young man." "He is a stranger in Annapolis." "I know that." "And what else?" "What my eyes saw--graceful, easy, handsome, a man of the world." "Oh, you women! Graceful, easy, handsome, a man of the world! You judge by externals." "And pray, sir, what else had I to judge by?" springing up; "I but saw him--you spoke with him. How far am I amiss?" The Governor smiled. "Not by the fraction of a hair, so far as I can make it," he said. "He is Sir Edward Parkington, come from London for his pleasure. He brought with him letters of introduction to Mr. Dulany and myself. He seems to have been in a rather hard case, too. He took passage from The Capes to Annapolis in _The Sally_, a bark of small tonnage and worse sail. They ran into a storm; the bark foundered, and all on board were lost, except Parkington; or, at least, he saw none when, more dead than alive, he was cast ashore near Saint Mary's." "The poor fellow! Did he lose everything?" "Everything but the letters, which were in his pocket--and his charm of manner and good looks." "At least, we shall appreciate the latter." The Governor looked at her rather quizzically. "Yes, I reckon you will," he said. "At least, if you do not, it will be the first time." His eyes fell on one, in the red and blue of the Royal Americans, who just emerged from the house, and was hesitating on the piazza, as though uncertain whether to descend. "It seems to me there is something familiar in that personage. Do you know him?" Martha turned and looked. "Oh!" she said, "I do not want to see him. Why does he pester me?" "Nevertheless, my dear, he is there; and I see he is coming here. So take him off and make game of him, playing him this way and that; a bit of encouragement, a vast disdain; and, then, send him off again a little more securely hooked than ever.... Good morning, Captain Herford, were you looking for us, or, rather, were you looking for one of us?" Charles Herford bowed, elaborately, his hand upon his sword-hilt, his hat across his heart. "If your Excellency please, I was," he said. "Which one: Mistress Martha Stirling or Horatio Sharpe?" asked the Governor, arising. "Mistress Stirling, so please you," said Herford, with another bow. "Then, I bid you good morning!" the Colonel laughed, and returned to the house.