“Yes; it would be much better that I never had succeeded to it than that alternative; for by continuing in the service I should by this time have been a Rear-Admiral.” “Thank God it is as it is; but how is it, then, with respect to the daughter; and where is Granby Arden’s wife?” “I will read you the letter,” said the Baronet, “and then you will know as much as I do;” and he did so. Lady Etherton listened eagerly. When he had concluded, she said, with some bitterness— “Who is this youngster, William Thornton, who has made himself so conspicuous, and who, Howard says, is his bitter enemy?” “Pooh!” returned the Baronet, contemptuously. “Boys’ enmity—a rival midshipman. I kept those troublesome urchins in their proper place when I commanded the Dauntless. But who this William Thornton is, it matters not; he is a midshipman, and, as Howard says, the natural son of one of Lord Hood’s coxwains. I saw his name mentioned in the paper as a very high-spirited boy, and that he was entrusted by Captain Sir Sidney Smith with the command of a little tender on the night they burned the French ships in Toulon—a miserable failure that affair. But with respect to this Mabel Arden, whom we may expect in England shortly, we must afford her our protection. The worst of it is, she is entitled to twenty thousand pounds fortune out of the estates when she becomes of age. Had her brother lived, the blow would have been an awful one, to lose title and estate, and forced to live upon a captain’s half-pay, or go to sea again.” Lady Etherton looked startled. “I hope—that is—I wonder if the boy really lost his head. Strange accident, was it not, Godfrey?” “Accident!” repeated the Baronet, looking at his spouse rather contemptuously. “Why, Jane, what are you thinking of? You forget they are taking heads off in France at this moment for mere amusement; the boy must somehow or other have got mixed up in their bloody orgies, and they guillotined him. His mother, the Duchess of Coulancourt, it seems, fell into the hands of the Revolutionists in Toulon, and may at this moment be no more. There’s a strange mystery about my brother’s marriage, and his widow afterwards marrying a French duke.” “How old is this little girl you expect to arrive in England?” questioned Lady Etherton. “Howard says about eleven or twelve; a young delicate thing, not likely to live over the voyage.” “If she does live,” said Lady Etherton, thoughtfully, “she would make a right good match for Howard, wouldn’t she?” “You are early in your matrimonial speculations, Jane,” said the Baronet; “but you are not far out, from causes which you know. To have to pay over that twenty thousand pounds, and interest, now, would be inconvenient. The interest due on it, and her long minority, would make her a very eligible match for a younger son.” “Very, indeed!” said Lady Etherton. “Would it not be as well to withdraw Howard from the navy, and let the young people grow up together?”