so
breathless was the quiet of the chamber, at that moment, every syllable
was heard by all present. "Yes--L1000--Wycherly Wychecombe--royal
navy--"

Atwood's pen was running rapidly over the paper, and had just reached
the name of the contemplated legatee, when his hand was arrested by the
voice of the young man himself.

"Stop, Mr. Atwood--do not insert any clause in my favour!" cried
Wycherly, his face the colour of crimson, and his chest heaving with the
emotions he felt it so difficult to repress. "I decline the legacy--it
will be useless to write it, as I will not receive a shilling."

"Young sir," said Sir Gervaise, with a little of the severity of a
superior, when he rebukes an interior, in his manner; "you speak
hastily. It is not the office of an auditor or of a spectator, to repel
the kindness of a man about to pass from the face of the earth, into the
more immediate presence of his God!"

"I have every sentiment of respect for Sir Wycherly Wychecombe,
sir;--every friendly wish for his speedy recovery, and a long evening to
his life; but, I will accept of the money of no man who holds my country
in such obvious distaste, as, it is apparent, the testator holds mine."

"You are an Englishman, I believe, _Lieutenant_ Wychecombe; and a
servant of King George II.?"

"I am _not_ an Englishman, Sir Gervaise Oakes--but an American; a
Virginian, entitled to all the rights and privileges of a British
subject. I am no more an Englishman, than Dr. Magrath may lay claim to
the same character."

"This is putting the case strongly,--hey! Atwood?" answered the
vice-admiral, smiling in spite of the occasion. "I am far from saying
that you are an Englishman, in all senses, sir; but you are one in the
sense that gives you national character and national rights. You are a
_subject_ of _England_."

"No, Sir Gervaise; your pardon. I am the subject of George II., but in
no manner a subject of _England_. I am, in one sense, perhaps, a subject
of the British empire; but I am not the less a Virginian, and an
American. Not a shilling of any man's money will I ever touch, who
expresses his contempt for either."

"You forget yourself, young man, and overlook the future. The hundred or
two of prize-money, bought at the expense of your blood, in the late
affair at Groix, will not last for ever."

"It is gone, already, sir, every shilling of it having been sent to the
widow of the boatswain who was killed at my side. I am no be