“Heavens! What do you mean?” exclaimed Lady Etherton, in her turn looking agitated. “Has he left any children?”
“He did leave a boy and a girl.”
“Merciful goodness,” interrupted the Baronet’s wife; “this is dreadful! We shall——”
“Nay,” interrupted Sir Godfrey; “you are frightening yourself without cause. I was startled myself; but the son, it seems, was beheaded.”
“Thank God!—that is—hem—really, Godfrey, you, you startled me—I do not mean to thank God that the unfortunate boy has lost his head, which is very singular; but I mean it would be very terrible for us to lose the title and estate, and with such a family of daughters.”
“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?”