CHAPTER XXXIII. IN THE MERRY CITY
The Heart of the West was boarded by a lieutenant of infantry, inside the Narrows, and was quickly piloted to a berth on the north side of the great harbour, where her anchors were merrily let go. The lieutenant welcomed Master Kingswell in the governor's name, and vowed to Mistress Westleigh that the old shellback (with so little respect will a subaltern sometimes speak of his superior into safe ears) would never have allowed his gout to keep him ashore had he guessed that the new arrival carried such a passenger.
"But his Excellency is a sailor," he added, "so, after all, he'd blink his old eyes at you unmoved. These sailors, ecod, are not the worshippers of beauty that the poets would have us believe."
He bowed again, very fine in his new uniform and powdered hair. Beatrix shot a glance at Kingswell, who seemed in no wise conscious of the dimness of his own attire and the rents in the silk facings of his coat. Then she smiled upon the soldier.
"Both the army and navy have my esteem," she said, "but my particular fancy is for the Church."
The lieutenant seemed overwhelmed. "Say you so?" he cried. "And to think, mistress, that I refused to take Holy Orders, despite the combined persuasion of both my parents and my uncle, the Bishop of Bath. Stab me, but why did not my heart give me a hint of your preference?"
"Perhaps you have a parson ashore," suggested Kingswell.
"Ay, we have a parson—a ranting old missionary," replied the lieutenant.
"He'll serve my turn," said Beatrix, "so long as he can read the marriage service."