Who she or he might be, neither Virginia nor I could imagine; but I looked at the party, who were now close to us, and perceived, in advance of the rest, an enormous lady, dressed in a puce-coloured pelisse and a white satin bonnet. Her features were good, and, had they been on a smaller scale, would have been considered handsome. She towered above the rest of the company, and there was but one man who could at all compete with her in height and size, and he was by her side.
My father stopped, took off his cocked hat, and scraped the gravel with his timber toe, as he bowed a little forward.
“Sarvant, your honour’s ladyship. Sarvant, your honour Sir Hercules.”
“Ah! who have we here?” replied Sir Hercules, putting his hand up as a screen above his eyes. “Who are you, my man?” continued he.
“Tom Saunders, your honour’s coxswain, as was in the Druid,” replied my father, with another scrape at the gravel, “taken in moorings at last, your honour. Hope to see your honour and your honourable ladyship quite well.”
“I recollect you now, my man,” replied Sir Hercules, very stiffly. “And where did you lose your leg?”
“Battle o’ the Nile, your honour; Majesty’s ship Oudacious.”
“How interesting!” observed one of the ladies; “one of Sir Hercules’ old men.”
“Yes, madam, and one of my best men. Lady Hercules, you must recollect him,” said Sir Hercules.
“I should think so, Sir Hercules,” replied the lady; “did I not give him my own lady’s maid in marriage?”