inform the mother, that
he would rather have ridden a thousand miles upon barley-bread than
face her. He knew how the whole of her life was now bound up with the
fortunes of her son, and he longed to send Faith with the bad news, as
he had sent her with the good before; but he feared that it might seem
unkind. So he went himself, with the hope of putting the best complexion
upon it, yet fully expecting sad distress, and perhaps a burst of
weeping. But the lady received his tidings in a manner that surprised
him. At first she indulged in a tear or two, but they only introduced a
smile.

"In some ways it is a sad thing," she said, "and will be a terrible blow
to him, just when he was rising so fast in the service. But we must not
rebel more than we can help, against the will of the Lord, Sir Charles."

"How philosophical, and how commonplace!" thought the Admiral; but he
only bowed, and paid her some compliment upon her common-sense.

"Perhaps you scarcely understand my views, and perhaps I am wrong in
having them," Lady Scudamore continued, quietly. "My son's advancement
is very dear to me, and this will of course retard it. But I care most
of all for his life, and now that will be safe for a long while. They
never kill their prisoners, do they?"

"No, ma'am, no. They behave very well to them; better, I'm afraid, than
we do to ours. They treat them quite as guests, when they fall into good
hands. Though Napoleon himself is not too mild in that way."

"My son has fallen into very good hands, as you yourself assure me--that
Captain Desportes, a gallant officer and kind gentleman, as I know from
your daughter's description. Blyth is quite equal to Lord Nelson in
personal daring, and possibly not behind him in abilities. Consider how
shockingly poor Nelson has been injured, and he feels convinced himself
that they will have his life at last. No officer can be a hero without
getting very sad wounds, and perhaps losing his life. Every one who does
his duty must at least be wounded."

The Admiral, who had never received a scratch, was not at all charmed
with this view of naval duty; but he was too polite to enter protest,
and only made one of his old-fashioned scrapes.

"I am sure every time I have heard a gun coming from the sea, and
especially after dark," the lady resumed, without thinking of him, "it
has made me miserable to know that probably Blyth was rushing into some
deadly conflict. But now I shall feel that he