n to his niece, Charlotte Nelson, who
lived a good deal at Merton, in which he says that he is "truly
sensible of her attachment to that dear little orphan, Horatia," and
although her parents are lost, yet she is not "without a fortune; and
that he will cherish her to the last moment of his life, and _curse_
them who _curse_ her, and Heaven bless them who bless her." This
solemn enthusiasm for the poor orphan puts Nelson out of court as a
cute letter-writer. The quality of ingenious diplomacy had been left
entirely out of him, and like any one else who dallies with an art for
which they have no gift, he excites suspicions, and more often than
not discloses the very secret he is so anxious to keep. Every line of
these letters indicates a tussle between a natural tendency to frank
honesty and an unnatural and unworthy method of deception. Obviously,
the recipient of this precious document would have her curiosity
excited over the disingenuous tale of romance. She would ask herself
first of all, "Why should my kinsman be so desirous to tell me that
the orphan in whom he has so fond an interest is not without a
fortune? and why should the responsibility of rearing and educating
the child have been entrusted to him, the most active and important
Admiral in the British Navy? And if it be true that she is an orphan,
surely there could be no object in supposing that any one would
'_curse_ her,' especially as he declared that she was 'not without
fortune,' and that she was to be known as his adopted child." The
niece, being a quick-witted girl, would naturally think the problem
out for herself, and decide that there was something fishy involved
in the mystery of these unnecessary phrases.

In dealing with his domestic complications, Nelson's mind seems to
have been in a constant whirlwind, dodging from one difficulty into
another, never direct, and for ever in conflict with his true self. He
was brave and resourceful in everything that appertained to the
service he adorned, and yet a shivering fear came over him now and
again lest the truth concerning his attachment to his friend's wife
should be revealed. When he was seized with these remorseful thoughts,
he could not be silent; he was not possessed of the constitutional
gift of reticence, and could only find relief by constant reference to
the matter he wished kept secret in such a way as to cause people to
put two and two together and arrive at the very truth he wished to
hi