s in the shape of a flying
British hussar, for Julia's valentine. It seemed to us so successful
that we scattered half-a-dozen over the neighbourhood, and rode round it
on the morning of St. Valentine's Day to see the effect of them,
meeting the postman on the road. He gave me two for myself. One was
transparently from Janet, a provoking counterstroke of mine to her; but
when I opened the other my heart began beating. The standard of Great
Britain was painted in colours at the top; down each side, encricled in
laurels, were kings and queens of England with their sceptres, and
in the middle I read the initials, A. F-G. R. R., embedded in blue
forget-me-hots. I could not doubt it was from my father. Riding out in
the open air as I received it, I could fancy in my hot joy that it had
dropped out of heaven.

'He's alive; I shall have him with me; I shall have him with me soon!' I
cried to Temple. 'Oh! why can't I answer him? where is he? what address?
Let's ride to London. Don't you understand, Temple? This letter's from
my father. He knows I'm here. I'll find him, never mind what happens.'

'Yes, but,' said Temple, 'if he knows where you are, and you don't know
where he is, there's no good in your going off adventuring. If a fellow
wants to be hit, the best thing he can do is to stop still.'

Struck by the perspicacity of his views, I turned homeward. Temple
had been previously warned by me to avoid speaking of my father at
Riversley; but I was now in such a boiling state of happiness, believing
that my father would certainly appear as he had done at Dipwell farm,
brilliant and cheerful, to bear me away to new scenes and his own
dear society, that I tossed the valentine to my aunt across the
breakfast-table, laughing and telling her to guess the name of the
sender. My aunt flushed.

'Miss Bannerbridge?' she said.

A stranger was present. The squire introduced us.

'My grandson, Harry Richmond, Captain William Bulsted, frigate
Polyphemus; Captain Bulsted, Master Augustus Temple.'

For the sake of conversation, Temple asked him if his ship was fully
manned.

'All but a mate,' said the captain.

I knew him by reputation as the brother of Squire Gregory Bulsted of
Bulsted, notorious for his attachment to my aunt, and laughing-stock of
the county.

'So you've got a valentine,' the captain addressed me. 'I went on shore
at Rio last year on this very day of the month, just as lively as
you youngsters for one. Saltwat