Susan had an open, sensible countenance. She was like William, and Fanny hoped to find her like him in disposition and goodwill towards herself.

In this more placid state of things William reentered, followed by his mother and Betsey. He, complete in his lieutenant’s uniform, looking and moving all the taller, firmer, and more graceful for it, and with the happiest smile over his face, walked up directly to Fanny. She, rising from her seat, looked at him for a moment in speechless admiration, and then threw her arms round his neck to sob out her various emotions of pain and pleasure.

Anxious not to appear unhappy, she soon recovered herself. Wiping away her tears, she noticed and admired all the striking parts of his dress; listening with reviving spirits to his cheerful hopes of being on shore some part of every day before they sailed, and even of getting her to Spithead to see the sloop.

The next bustle brought in Mr. Campbell, the surgeon of the Thrush, a very well-behaved young man, who came to call for his friend. “Upon my word,” Mr. Campbell said immediately, “I just had to beat off some rotting fellow with a stick! Three doors down, he leaned in and looked like he was about to kiss me—!”

A chair was found for him, and with some hasty washing, a cup and saucer. And after another quarter of an hour of earnest talk between the gentlemen, noise and bustle, men and boys at last all in motion together, the moment came for setting off. Everything was ready, William took leave, and all of them were gone—the three boys, in spite of their mother’s entreaty, determined to see their brother and Mr. Campbell to the sally-port. And Mr. Price walked off at the same time to carry back his neighbour’s newspaper.

Something like tranquility might now be hoped for. Rebecca had finally been prevailed on to carry away the tea-things (and for the first time in her life Fanny longingly thought of committing violence upon an actual non-cursed being with her fireplace poker). Mrs. Price walked about the room some time looking for a shirt-sleeve, which Betsey at last found in a kitchen drawer. At last, the small party of females was pretty well composed. The mother, having lamented again over the impossibility of getting Sam ready in time, was now at leisure to think of her eldest daughter and the friends she had come from.