e believe me when I say that the baggage was near beside
herself with anger at what I had to tell her. 'Marry that misshapen
duke!' cries she, 'I would quicker marry Doctor Johnson!' And truly, I
begin to fear she hath formed an affection for some like, foul-linened
beggar. That his Grace is misshapen I cannot deny; but I tried reason
upon her. 'Think of the coronet, my dear, and of the ancient name to
which it belongs.' She only stamps her foot and cries out:

"'Coronet fiddlesticks! And are you not content with the name you bear,
sir?" 'Our name is good as any in the three kingdoms,' said I, with
truth. 'Then you would have me, for the sake of the coronet, joined to a
wretch who is steeped in debauchery. Yes, debauchery, sir! You might
then talk, forsooth, to the macaronies of Maryland, of your daughter the
Duchess.'"

"There's spirit for you, my lad!" Comyn shouted; "I give you Miss
Dorothy." And he drained a glass of punch Scipio had brought in, Doctor
Courtenay and I joining him with a will.

"I pray you go on, sir," I said to the doctor.

"A pest on your impatience!" replied he; "I begin to think you are in
love with her yourself."

"To be sure he is," said Comyn; "he had lost my esteem and he were not."

The doctor gave me an odd look. I was red enough, indeed.

"'I could say naught, my dear Courtenay, to induce her to believe that his
Grace's indiscretions arose from the wildness of youth. And I pass over
the injustice she hath unwittingly done me, whose only efforts are for
her bettering. The end of it all was that I must needs post back to the
duke, who was stamping with impatience up and down, and drinking
Burgundy. I am sure I meant him no offence, but told him in as many
words, that my daughter had refused him. And, will you believe me, sir?
He took occasion to insult me (I cannot with propriety repeat his
speech), and he flung a bottle after me as I passed out the door. Was he
not far gone in wine at the time, I assure you I had called him out for
it.'"

"And, gentlemen," said the doctor, when our merriment was somewhat spent,
"I'll lay a pipe of the best Madeira, that our little fool never knows
the figure he has cut with his Grace."

CHAPTER XVI

IN WHICH SOME THINGS ARE MADE CLEAR

The Thunderer weighed the next day, Saturday, while I was still upon my
back, and Comyn sailed with her. Not, however, before I had seen him
again. Our affection was such as comes not often to those who dri