“Fie, Comyn,” said my lady, blushing and gathering up her skirts; “that tongue of yours had hung you long since had it not been for your peer's privilege. Richard and I were brought up as brother and sister, and you know you were full as keen for his rescue as I.”
His Lordship pinched me playfully.
“I vow I would pass a year in the Fleet to have her do as much for me,” said he.
“But where is the gallant seaman who saved you, Richard?” asked Dolly, stamping her foot.
“What,” I exclaimed; “you know the story?”
“Never mind,” said she; “bring him here.”
My conscience smote me, for I had not so much as thought of John Paul since I came into that room. I found him waiting in the passage, and took him by the hand.
“A lady wishes to know you, captain,” I said.
“A lady!” he cried. “Here? Impossible!” And he looked at his clothes.
“Who cares more for your heart than your appearance,” I answered gayly, and led him into the office.