the nascent American
navy, in which Colonel Wilton had returned from France, had attacked
and captured a British brig of war during the return passage, and young
Seymour, who was the first lieutenant of the ship, was severely
wounded. The wound had been received through his efforts to protect
Colonel Wilton, who had incautiously joined the boarding-party which
had captured the brig. After the interview with Congress, Colonel
Wilton was requested to await further instructions before returning to
France, and, pending the result of the deliberations of Congress, after
a brief visit to the headquarters of his old friend and neighbor
General Washington, he had retired to his estate. As a special favor,
he was permitted to bring with him the wounded lieutenant, in order
that he might recuperate and recover from his wound in the pleasant
valleys of Virginia. That Seymour was willing to leave his own friends
in Philadelphia, with all their care and attention, was due entirely to
his desire to meet Miss Katharine Wilton, of whose beauty he had heard,
and whose portrait indeed, in her father's possession, which he had
seen before on the voyage, had borne out her reputation. Seymour had
been informed since his stay at the Wiltons' that he had been detached
from the brig Argus, and notified that he was to receive orders shortly
to report to the ship Ranger, commanded by a certain Captain John Paul
Jones; and he knew that he might expect his sailing orders at any
moment. He had improved, as has been seen, the days of his brief stay
to recover from one wound and receive another, and, as might have been
expected, he had fallen violently in love with Katharine Wilton.

There were also staying at the house, besides the servants and slaves,
young Philip Wilton, Katharine's brother, a lad of sixteen, who had
just received a midshipman's warrant, and was to accompany Seymour when
he joined the Ranger, then outfitting at Philadelphia; and Bentley, an
old and veteran sailor, a boatswain's mate, who had accompanied Seymour
from ship to ship ever since the lieutenant was a midshipman,--a man
who had but one home, the sea; one hate, the English; one love, his
country; and one attachment, Seymour.

Colonel Wilton was a widower. As Katharine came down the stairway,
clad in all the finery her father had brought back for her from Paris,
her hair rolled high and powdered, the old family diamonds with their
quaint setting of silver sparkling