By this time Manual had discovered that he was safe, and he returned to the conversation with a revival of all his ready wits, which had been strangely paralyzed by his previous disorder in the region of the throat. First bestowing a wicked wink on his companion, and a look that would have outdone the wisest aspect of Solomon, he replied;
“Ah! woman has much to answer for!”
“I knew it,” exclaimed Borroughcliffe; “and this confession only confirms me in the good opinion I have always entertained of myself. If his majesty has any particular wish to close this American business, let him have a certain convention burnt, and a nameless person promoted, and we shall see! But, answer as you love truth; is it a business of holy matrimony, or a mere dalliance with the sweets of Cupid?”
“Of honest wedlock,” said Manual, with an air as serious as if Hymen already held him in his fetters.
“'Tis honest! Is there money?”
“Is there money?” repeated Manual, with a sort of contemptuous echo. “Would a soldier part with his liberty, but with his life, unless the chains were made of gold?”
“That's the true military doctrine!” cried the other; “faith, you have some discretion in your amphibious corps, I find! But why this disguise? are the 'seniors grave,' as well as 'potent and reverend?' Why this disguise, I again ask?”
“Why this disguise!” repeated Manual, coolly: “Is there any such thing as love in your regiment without disguise? With us, it is a regular symptom of the disease.”
“A most just and discreet description of the passion, my amphibious comrade!” said the English officer; “and yet the symptoms in your case are attended by some very malignant tokens. Does your mistress love tar?”
“No; but she loveth me; and, of course, whatever attire I choose to appear in.”