"Well, sir," answered Maurice, gravely, "here are my orders authorizing me to command His Majesty's sloop-of-war _Diamond Rock_, five guns and one hundred and twenty men. It's a great stone hill off Martinique. I commanded it for one year and six months, at the end of which we beat off M. de Villeneuve's great fleet, and were only captured when our powder gave out, by a heavy squadron which bombarded us for two days. I was wounded----" "Oh, Jim, wounded!" cried Dorothy, with a shriek of alarm, rushing toward him, while the dazed old man made no movement to prevent her. "It is nothing, Dot darling," said the young fellow, manfully, but not making the slightest effort to avoid the caress. "I was wounded and taken on board the French flag-ship _Bucentaur_, from which I escaped to the _Victory_ at Trafalgar, where Nelson beat the French fleet." "Hey? What?" cried the old man. "Beat the French? But, of course, we always do that." "I saw him killed, sir," added young Maurice. "Who killed?" exclaimed Captain Venour, in astonishment. "Lord Nelson, sir; right in the height of the battle." "Good God!" cried Captain Venour. "Nelson gone? He was a reefer under me on the _Hinchinbrook_. It can't be possible!" "Yes, sir, it is," replied the young captain. There was a long pause. "What next, sir?" asked Captain Venour. "Well, sir, I swung myself on board the _Victory_ in the action. Captain Hardy recognized me and gave me a gun division whose lieutenant had been killed, and--and that's all. No, sir; here's a paper from Lord Collingwood, who succeeded to the command after Lord Nelson died, recommending me to be appointed post-captain, and--and--that's all, sir. May I have Dorothy now, sir?" "You may," answered the captain, feebly, utterly overcome by the astonishing recital. "Any man who has commanded a six-million-ton rock and fought at Trafalgar can have anything he wants,--if Dorothy is willing." Dorothy signified unmistakably that she was willing. "Poor Nelson!" continued the old captain. He rose slowly to his feet and turned away again, saying,-- "I will turn my back once more, young people, and mind, do it softly!" "WHEN LOVELY WOMAN STOOPS TO FOLLY" THE FATE OF A COQUETTE OF 1815 "When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy? What art can wash her guilt away?" GOLDSMITH