Only a year of that time was Giles Vernon with me. He then got promotion which took him out of the ship. I had the extreme good fortune to be with Nelson at the Nile. On that great day, as sailing-master of the Belvidera, I took the frigate around the head of Admiral Villeneuve’s line,—she was the leading ship,—and placed her where she was enabled to fire the first raking broadside of the battle. I got a wound in the forehead which left a scar that remains to this day; but I also received the personal thanks of my Lord Nelson, which I shall ever esteem as the greatest honor of my life. I had heard nothing of Giles for nearly a year, when, among Admiral Villeneuve’s officers, I found one, a young lieutenant like myself, who told me that Giles had been captured, while on a boat expedition, and was then in prison at Dunkerque.
I wrote him a dozen letters at least, by officers who were paroled; and when the ship was paid off, the following spring, I lost no time in getting to London, and using what little power I had in trying to have him exchanged. Sir Peter was in great favor at the Admiralty. As soon as I reached London, I went immediately to call in Berkeley Square. My Lady Hawkshaw was at home, and received me in great state, black feathers and all; and with her sat Daphne Carmichael.
I believe Lady Hawkshaw was really glad to see me; but Daphne, after speaking to me, remained with her eyes fixed on her embroidery, I noted, however, that she was a very charming girl, and her eyes, under her long, dark lashes, were full of fire and sweetness. But she had not, and never could have, the glorious beauty of Lady Arabella Stormont. Lady Hawkshaw demanded of me a particular account of my whole cruise, and everything that had happened at the battle of the Nile. This I gave, to the best of my ability. She then invited, or, rather, commanded me to take up my quarters in Berkeley Square, and told me that I had three thousand and ten pounds, nineteen shillings and seven-pence to my credit in bank.
After this, she was called upon to leave the room for a moment, and I civilly inquired of Daphne how Lady Arabella was.
“She is well,” responded Daphne, rather tartly, I thought; “and as devoted to Captain Overton as ever. You know Arabella ever liked him rather more than he liked her.” At which ungenerous speech, I said one word, “Fie!” and Daphne, coloring to the roots of her hair, yet attempted to defend herself.
“I only tell you what all the world says, and so say my uncle and aunt. Arabella could have married a dozen times,—she is all of twenty-one, you know,—and married very splendidly, but she will not. Sir Peter rages, and swears that he will marry her off in spite of herself; but Arabella is her own mistress now, and laughs at Sir Peter.”
“And does she still play cards?”
Daphne raised her eyes. It seemed to give that otherwise sweet girl positive pleasure to call over Lady Arabella’s faults.
“Yes,” she said. “Loo, lansquenet—anything by which money can be lost or won. Three times a week she goes to the Duchess of Auchester’s, where play is high. We go there to-night; but I do not play.”
I had not thought there was so much malice in Daphne, until that conversation.