"In one short hour, my dear!--seven miles to Walsingham House, and seven
back again, and all the time you will waste there, and to dress
too--only consider!"

"I do consider, ma'am; and have considered every thing in the world. My
horse will carry me there and back in fifty minutes, easily, and five to
spare, I'll be bound. I sha'n't light--so where's the paper? I'm off."

"Well--order your horse, and leave me the paper, at least, while he is
getting ready. Ride by this way, and you will find us here--where is
this famous paragraph?"

Beaumont drew the paper crumpled from the pocket into which he had
thrust it--ran off for his horse, and quickly returned mounted. "Give me
the paper, good friends!--I'm off."

"Away, then, my dear; since you will heat yourself for nothing. But only
let me point out to you," said she, holding the paper fast whilst she
held it up to him, "that this whole report rests on no authority
whatever; not a word of it in the gazette; not a line from the
admiralty; no official account; no bulletin; no credit given to the
rumour at Lloyd's; stocks the same.--And how did the news come? Not even
the news-writer pretends it came through any the least respectable
channel. A frigate in latitude the Lord knows what! saw a fleet in a fog
--might be Spanish--might be French--might be English--spoke another
frigate some days afterwards, who heard firing: well--firing says
nothing. But the frigate turns this firing into an engagement, and a
victory; and presently communicates the news to a collier, and the
collier tells another collier, and so it goes up the Thames, to some