tles;
which no doubt raged at breakfast, dinner, supper, during the week of
Clive's visit to Boulogne,--but the upshot of these engagements. Rosey,
not unwilling in her first private talk with her husband to come to
England with him and the boy, showed herself irresolute on the second
day at breakfast, when the fire was opened on both sides; cried
at dinner when fierce assaults took place, in which Clive had the
advantage; slept soundly, but besought him to be very firm, and met
the enemy at breakfast with a quaking heart; cried all that day during
which, pretty well without cease, the engagement lasted; and when Clive
might have conquered and brought her off, but the weather was windy and
the sea was rough, and he was pronounced a brute to venture on it with a
wife in Rosey's situation.

Behind that "situation" the widow shielded herself. She clung to her
adored child, and from that bulwark discharged abuse and satire at Clive
and his father. He could not rout her out of her position. Having had
the advantage on the first two or three days, on the four last he
was beaten, and lost ground in each action. Rosey found that in her
situation she could not part from her darling mamma. The Campaigner for
her part averred that she might be reduced to beggary; that she might be
robbed of her last farthing and swindled and cheated; that she might see
her daughter's fortune flung away by unprincipled adventurers, and her
blessed child left without even the comforts of life; but desert her in
such a situation, she never would--no, never! Was not dear Rosa's health
already impaired by the various shocks which she had undergone? Did she
not require every comfort, every attendance? Monster! ask the doctor!
She would stay with her darling child in spite of insult and rudeness
and vulgarity. (Rosey's father was a King's officer, not a Company's
officer, thank God!) She would stay as long at least as Rosey's
situation continued, at Boulogne, if not in London, but with her child.
They might refuse to send her money, having robbed her of all her own,
but she would pawn her gown off her back for her child. Whimpers
from Rosey--cries of "Mamma, mamma, compose yourself,"--convulsive
sobs--clenched knuckles--flashing eyes--embraces rapidly
clutched--laughs--stamps--snorts--from the dishevelled Campaigner;
grinding teeth--livid fury and repeated breakages of the third
commandment by Clive--I can fancy the whole scene. He returned to London
wi