"When passing this way again, I shall take care to travel by daylight, or with a bolder escort than you, John Trot," said she, while the maid-servant, whose face I had not yet seen, as she sat in a dark corner, loudly and bitterly expressed her contempt for the unfortunate knight of the shoulder-knot, and for his lack of valour.
"We left the residence of a friend near Croydon about sunset, and should have been in London long since," observed her mother, "but a wheel came off at the cross road which leads to Kingston, and thus we were detained until this unpleasant hour. Have you, sir, also come from Croydon?"
"Nay, madam, I have just come from Portsmouth."
"Portsmouth!" echoed both ladies, with voices expressive of interest and animation.
"With despatches from Commodore Howe for the Lords of the Admiralty," said I, with an emotion of vanity difficult to repress, especially at my age then.
"Are you one of those who are bound for France?"
"Yes, madam."
"When does the fleet sail with the army?"
"Next week, 'tis said; but nothing definite has yet transpired," I replied, with all the air of a staff officer.
"Poor boy!" I heard her say, with something like a sigh, and with winning softness of tone, as the valiant John Trot asked if the carriage was to move on.