“Why, it is Charles's fault,” said my Lord, smiling. “Were it not for him I should be helping Sir George Collier lay waste to your coast towns.”
CHAPTER LV. “THE LOVE OF A MAID FOR A MAN”
The next morning, when Dr. Barry had gone, Mrs. Manners propped me up in bed and left me for a little, so she said. Then who should come in with my breakfast on a tray but my lady herself, looking so fresh and beautiful that she startled me vastly.
“A penny for your thoughts, Richard,” she cried. “Why, you are as grave as a screech-owl this brave morning.”
“To speak truth, Dolly,” said I, “I was wondering how the commodore is to get away from the Texel, with half the British navy lying in wait outside.”
“Do not worry your head about that,” said she, setting down the tray; “it will be mere child's play to him. Oh but I should like to see your commodore again, and tell him how much I love him.
“I pray that you may have the chance,” I replied.
With a marvellous quickness she had tied the napkin beneath my chin, not so much as looking at the knot. Then she stepped to the mantel and took down one of Mr. Wedgwood's cups and dishes, and wiping them with her apron, filled the cup with fragrant tea, which she tendered me with her eyes sparkling.
“Your Excellency is the first to be honoured with this service,” says she, with a curtsey.