Think not I love him, though I ask for him;
'Tis but a peevish boy: -- yet he talks well --
But what care I for words?
A week passed in the usual routine of a garrison. Mabel was becoming
used to a situation that, at first she had found not only novel,
but a little irksome; and the officers and men in their turn,
gradually familiarized to the presence of a young and blooming
girl, whose attire and carriage had that air of modest gentility
about them which she had obtained in the family of her patroness,
annoyed her less by their ill-concealed admiration, while they
gratified her by the respect which, she was fain to think, they
paid her on account of her father; but which, in truth, was more
to be attributed to her own modest but spirited deportment, than
to any deference for the worthy Sergeant.
Acquaintances made in a forest, or in any circumstances of unusual
excitement, soon attain their limits. Mabel found one week's
residence at Oswego sufficient to determine her as to those with
whom she might be intimate and those whom she ought to avoid. The
sort of neutral position occupied by her father, who was not an
officer, while he was so much more than a common soldier, by keeping
her aloof from the two great classes of military life, lessened the
number of those whom she was compelled to know, and made the duty
of decision comparatively easy. Still she soon discovered that
there were a few, even among those that could aspire to a seat at
the Commandant's table, who were disposed to overlook the halbert
for the novelty of a well-turned figure and of a pretty, winning
face; and by the end of the first two or three days she had admirers
even among the gentlemen. The Quartermaster, in particular, a
middle-aged soldier, who had more than once tried the blessings of
matrimony already, but was now a widower, was evidently disposed
to increase his intimacy with the Sergeant, though their duties
often brought them together; and the youngsters among his messmates
did not fail to note that this man of method, who was a Scotsman
of the name of Muir, was much more frequent in his visits to the
quarters of his subordinate than had formerly been his wont. A
laugh, or a joke, in honor of the "Sergeant's daughter," however,
limited their strictures; though "Mabel Dunham" was soon a toast
that even the ensign, or the lieutenant, did not disdain to give.
At the end of the week, Duncan of Lundie sent for Sergeant Dunham,
after evening roll-call, on business of a nature that, it was
understood, required a personal conference. The old veteran dwelt
in a movable hut, which, being placed on trucks, he could order
to be wheeled about at pleasure, sometimes living in one part of
the area within the fort, and sometimes in another. On the present
occasion, he had made a halt near the centre; and there he was
found by his subordinate, who was admitted to his presence without
any delay or dancing attendance in an ante-chamber. In point
of fact, there was very little difference in the quality of the
accommodations allowed to the officers and those allowed to the
men, the former being merely granted the most room.
"Walk in, Sergeant, walk in, my good friend," said old Lundie
heartily, as his inferior stood in a respectful attitude at the door
of a sort of library and bedroom into which he had been ushered;
-- "walk in, and take a seat on that stool. I have sent for you,
man; to discuss anything but rosters and pay-rolls this evening. It
is now many years since we have been comrades, and 'auld lang syne'
should count for something, even between a major and his orderly,
a Scot and a Yankee. Sit ye down, man, and just put yourself at
your ease. It has been a fine day, Sergeant."
"It has indeed, Major Duncan," returned the other, who, though he
complied so far as to take the seat, was much too practised not to
understand the degree of respect it was necessary to maintain in
his manner; "a very fine day, sir, it has been and we may look for
more of them at this season."
"I hope so with all my heart. The crops look well as it is, man,
and you'll be finding that the 55th make almost as good farmers
as soldiers. I never saw better potatoes in Scotland than we are
likely to have in that new patch of ours."
"They promise a good yield, Major Duncan; and, in that light, a
more comfortable winter than the last."
"Life is progressive, Sergeant, in its comforts as well as in its
need of them. We grow old, and I begin to think it time to retire
and settle in life. I feel that my working days are nearly over."
"The king, God bless him! sir, has much good service in your honor
yet."
"It may be so, Sergeant Dunham, especially if he should happen to
have a spare lieutenant-colonelcy left."
"The 55th will be honored the day that commission is given to Duncan
of Lundie, sir."
"And Duncan of Lundie will be honored the day he receives it. But,
Sergeant, if you have never had a lieutenant-colonelcy, you have
had a good wife, and that is the next thing to rank in making a
man happy."
"I have been married, Major Duncan; but it is now a long time since
I have had no drawback on the love I bear his majesty and my duty."
"What, man! not even the love you bear that active little round-limbed,
rosy-cheeked daughter that I have seen in the fort these last few
days! Out upon you, Sergeant! old fellow as I am, I could almost
love that little lassie myself, and send the lieutenant-colonelcy
to the devil."
"We all know where Major Duncan's heart is, and that is in Scotland,
where a beautiful lady is ready and willing to make him happy, as
soon as his own sense of duty shall permit."
"Ay, hope is ever a far-off thing, Sergeant," returned the superior,
a shade of melancholy passing over his hard Scottish features as
he spoke; "and bonnie Scotland is a far-off country. Well, if we
have no heather and oatmeal in this region, we have venison for
the killing of it and salmon as plenty as at Berwick-upon-Tweed.
Is it true, Sergeant, that the men complain of having been
over-venisoned and over-pigeoned of late?"
"Not for some weeks, Major Duncan, for neither deer nor birds are
so plenty at this season as they have been. They begin to throw
their remarks about concerning the salmon, but I trust we shall get
through the summer without any serious disturbance on the score of
food. The Scotch in the battalion do, indeed, talk more than is
prudent of their want of oatmeal, grumbling occasionally of our
wheaten bread."
"Ah, that is human nature, Sergeant! pure, unadulterated Scotch
human nature. A cake, man, to say the truth, is an agreeable
morsel, and I often see the time when I pine for a bite myself."
"If the feeling gets to be troublesome, Major Duncan, --in the
men, I mean, sir, for I would not think of saying so disrespectful
a thing to your honor, -- but if the men ever pine seriously for
their natural food, I would humbly recommend that some oatmeal
be imported, or prepared in this country for them, and I think we
shall hear no more of it. A very little would answer for a cure,
sir."
"You are a wag, Sergeant; but hang me if I am sure you are not
right. There may be sweeter things in this world, after all, than
oatmeal. You have a sweet daughter, Dunham, for one."
"The girl is like her mother, Major Duncan, and will pass inspection,"
said the Sergeant proudly. "Neither was brought up on anything
better than good American flour. The girl will pass inspection,
sir."
"That would she, I'll answer for it. Well, I may as well come to
the point at once, man, and bring up my reserve into the front of
the battle. Here is Davy Muir, the quartermaster, disposed to make
your daughter his wife, and he has just got me to open the matter
to you, being fearful of compromising his own dignity; and I may as
well add that half the youngsters in the fort toast her, and talk
of her from morning till night."
"She is much honored, sir," returned the father stiffly; "but
I trust the gentlemen will find something more worthy of them to
talk about ere long. I hope to see her the wife of an honest man
before many weeks, sir."
"Yes, Davy is an honest man, and that is more than can be said for
all in the quartermaster's department, I'm thinking, Sergeant,"
returned Lundie, with a slight smile. "Well, then may I tell the
Cupid-stricken youth that the matter is as good as settled?"
"I thank your honor; but Mabel is betrothed to another."
"The devil she is! That will produce a stir in the fort; though I'm
not sorry to hear it either, for, to be frank with you, Sergeant,
I'm no great admirer of unequal matches."
"I think with your honor, and have no desire to see my daughter an
officer's lady. If she can get as high as her mother was before
her, it ought to satisfy any reasonable woman."
"And may I ask, Sergeant, who is the lucky man that you intend to
call son-in-law?"
"The Pathfinder, your honor."
"Pathfinder!"
"The same, Major Duncan; and in naming him to you, I give you his
whole history. No one is better known on this frontier than my
honest, brave, true-hearted friend."
"All that is true enough; but is he, after all, the sort of person
to make a girl of twenty happy?"
"Why not, your honor? The man is at the head of his calling.
There is no other guide or scout connected with the army who has
half the reputation of Pathfinder, or who deserves to have it half
as well."
"Very true, Sergeant; but is the reputation of a scout exactly the
sort of renown to captivate a girl's fancy?"
"Talking of girls' fancies, sir, is in my humble opinion much like
talking of a recruit's judgment. If we were to take the movements
of the awkward squad, sir, as a guide, we should never form a decent
line in battalion, Major Duncan."
"But your daughter has nothing awkward about her: for a genteeler
girl of her class could not be found in old Albion itself. Is she
of your way of thinking in this matter? -- though I suppose she
must be, as you say she is betrothed."
"We have not yet conversed on the subject, your honor; but I consider
her mind as good as made up, from several little circumstances
which might be named."
"And what are these circumstances, Sergeant?" asked the Major,
who began to take more interest than he had at first felt on the
subject. "I confess a little curiosity to know something about a
woman's mind, being, as you know, a bachelor myself."
"Why, your honor, when I speak of the Pathfinder to the girl, she
always looks me full in the face; chimes in with everything I say
in his favor, and has a frank open way with her, which says as much
as if she half considered him already as a husband."
"Hum! and these signs, you think, Dunham, are faithful tokens of
your daughter's feelings?"
"I do, your honor, for they strike me as natural. When I find a
man, sir, who looks me full in the face, while he praises an officer,
-- for, begging your honor's pardon, the men will sometimes pass
their strictures on their betters, - and when I find a man looking
me in the eyes as he praises his captain, I always set it down that
the fellow is honest, and means what he says."
"Is there not some material difference in the age of the intended
bridegroom and that of his pretty bride, Sergeant?"
"You are quite right, sir; Pathfinder is well advanced towards
forty, and Mabel has every prospect of happiness that a young woman
can derive from the certainty of possessing an experienced husband.
I was quite forty myself, your honor, when I married her mother."
"But will your daughter be as likely to admire a green hunting-shirt,
such as that our worthy guide wears, with a fox-skin cap, as the
smart uniform of the 55th?"
"Perhaps not, sir; and therefore she will have the merit of
self-denial, which always makes a young woman wiser and better."
"And are you not afraid that she may be left a widow while still a
young woman? what between wild beasts, and wilder savages, Pathfinder
may be said to carry his life in his hand."
"'Every bullet has its billet,' Lundie," for so the Major was
fond of being called in his moments of condescension, and when
not engaged in military affairs; "and no man in the 55th can call
himself beyond or above the chances of sudden death. In that
particular, Mabel would gain nothing by a change. Besides, sir,
if I may speak freely on such a subject, I much doubt if ever
Pathfinder dies in battle, or by any of the sudden chances of the
wilderness."
"And why so, Sergeant?" asked the Major. "He is a soldier, so
far as danger is concerned, and one that is much more than usually
exposed; and, being free of his person, why should he expect to
escape when others do not?"
"I do not believe, your honor, that the Pathfinder considers his
own chances better than any one's else, but the man will never die
by a bullet. I have seen him so often handling his rifle with as
much composure as if it were a shepherd's crook, in the midst of
the heaviest showers of bullets, and under so many extraordinary
circumstances, that I do not think Providence means he should ever
fall in that manner. And yet, if there be a man in his Majesty's
dominions who really deserves such a death, it is Pathfinder."
"We never know, Sergeant," returned Lundie, with a countenance grave
with thought; "and the less we say about it, perhaps, the better.
But will your daughter --Mabel, I think, you call her -- will Mabel
be as willing to accept one who, after all, is a mere hanger-on
of the army, as to take one from the service itself? There is no
hope of promotion for the guide, Sergeant."
"He is at the head of his corps already, your honor. In short,
Mabel has made up her mind on this subject; and, as your honor has
had the condescension to speak to me about Mr. Muir, I trust you
will be kind enough to say that the girl is as good as billeted
for life."
"Well, well, this is your own matter, and, now -- Sergeant Dunham!"
"Your honor," said the other, rising, and giving the customary
salute.
"You have been told it is my intention to send you down among the
Thousand Islands for the next month. All the old subalterns have
had their tours of duty in that quarter -- all that I like to
trust at least; and it has at length come to your turn. Lieutenant
Muir, it is true, claims his right; but, being quartermaster, I do
not like to break up well-established arrangements. Are the men
drafted?"
"Everything is ready, your honor. The draft is made, and I understood
that the canoe which got in last night brought a message to say
that the party already below is looking out for the relief."
"It did; and you must sail the day after to-morrow, if not to-morrow
night. It will be wise, perhaps, to sail in the dark."
"So Jasper thinks, Major Duncan; and I know no one more to be
depended on in such an affair than young Jasper Western."
"Young Jasper Eau-douce!" said Lundie, a slight smile gathering
around his usually stern mouth. "Will that lad be of your party,
Sergeant?"
"Your honor will remember that the _Scud_ never quits port without
him."
"True; but all general rules have their exceptions. Have I not
seen a seafaring person about the fort within the last few days?"
"No doubt, your honor; it is Master Cap, a brother-in-law of mine,
who brought my daughter from below."
"Why not put him in the _Scud_ for this cruise, Sergeant, and leave
Jasper behind? Your brother-in-law would like the variety of a
fresh-water cruise, and you would enjoy more of his company."
"I intended to ask your honor's permission to take him along; but
he must go as a volunteer. Jasper is too brave a lad to be turned
out of his command without a reason, Major Duncan; and I'm afraid
brother Cap despises fresh water too much to do duty on it."
"Quite right, Sergeant, and I leave all this to your own discretion.
Eau-douce must retain his command, on second thoughts. You intend
that Pathfinder shall also be of the party?"
"If your honor approves of it. There will be service for both the
guides, the Indian as well as the white man."
"I think you are right. Well, Sergeant, I wish you good luck in the
enterprise; and remember the post is to be destroyed and abandoned
when your command is withdrawn. It will have done its work by that
time, or we shall have failed entirely, and it is too ticklish a
position to be maintained unnecessarily. You can retire."
Sergeant Dunham gave the customary salute, turned on his heels as
if they had been pivots, and had got the door nearly drawn to after
him, when he was suddenly recalled.
"I had forgotten, Sergeant, the younger officers have begged for
a shooting match, and to-morrow has been named for the day. All
competitors will be admitted, and the prizes will be a silver-mounted
powder horn, a leathern flask ditto," reading from a piece of
paper, "as I see by the professional jargon of this bill, and a
silk calash for a lady. The latter is to enable the victor to show
his gallantry by making an offering of it to her he best loves."
"All very agreeable, your honor, at least to him that succeeds.
Is the Pathfinder to be permitted to enter?"
"I do not well see how he can be excluded, if he choose to come
forward. Latterly, I have observed that he takes no share in these
sports, probably from a conviction of his own unequalled skill."
"That's it, Major Duncan; the honest fellow knows there is not
a man on the frontier who can equal him, and he does not wish to
spoil the pleasure of others. I think we may trust to his delicacy
in anything, sir. Perhaps it may be as well to let him have his
own way?"
"In this instance we must, Sergeant. Whether he will be as successful
in all others remains to be seen. I wish you good evening, Dunham."
The Sergeant now withdrew, leaving Duncan of Lundie to his own
thoughts: that they were not altogether disagreeable was to be
inferred from the smiles which occasionally covered a countenance
hard and martial in its usual expression, though there were moments
in which all its severe sobriety prevailed. Half an hour might
have passed, when a tap at the door was answered by a direction to
enter. A middle-aged man, in the dress of an officer, but whose
uniform wanted the usual smartness of the profession, made his
appearance, and was saluted as "Mr. Muir."
"I have come sir, at your bidding, to know my fortune," said the
Quartermaster, in a strong Scotch accent, as soon as he had taken
the seat which was proffered to him. "To say the truth to you,
Major Duncan, this girl is making as much havoc in the garrison as
the French did before Ty: I never witnessed so general a rout in
so short a time!"
"Surely, Davy, you don't mean to persuade me that your young and
unsophisticated heart is in such a flame, after one week's ignition?
Why, man, this is worse than the affair in Scotland, where it
was said the heat within was so intense that it just burnt a hole
through your own precious body, and left a place for all the lassies
to peer in at, to see what the combustible material was worth."
"Ye'll have your own way, Major Duncan; and your father and mother
would have theirs before ye, even if the enemy were in the camp.
I see nothing so extraordinar' in young people following the bent
of their inclinations and wishes."
"But you've followed yours so often, Davy, that I should think by
this time it had lost the edge of novelty. Including that informal
affair in Scotland, when you were a lad, you've been married four
times already."
"Only three, Major, as I hope to get another wife. I've not yet
had my number: no, no; only three."
"I'm thinking, Davy, you don't include the first affair I mentioned;
that in which there was no parson."
"And why should I Major? The courts decided that it was no marriage;
and what more could a man want? The woman took advantage of a
slight amorous propensity that may be a weakness in my disposition,
perhaps, and inveigled me into a contract which was found to be
illegal."
"If I remember right, Muir, there were thought to be two sides to
that question, in the time of it?"
"It would be but an indifferent question, my dear Major, that hadn't
two sides to it; and I've known many that had three. But the poor
woman's dead, and there was no issue; so nothing came of it after
all. Then, I was particularly unfortunate with my second wife;
I say second, Major, out of deference to you, and on the mere
supposition that the first was a marriage at all; but first or
second, I was particularly unfortunate with Jeannie Graham, who
died in the first lustrum, leaving neither chick nor chiel behind
her. I do think, if Jeannie had survived, I never should have
turned my thoughts towards another wife."
"But as she did not, you married twice after her death; and are
desirous of doing so a third time."
"The truth can never justly be gainsaid, Major Duncan, and I am
always ready to avow it. I'm thinking, Lundie, you are melancholar
this fine evening?"
"No, Muir, not melancholy absolutely; but a little thoughtful, I
confess. I was looking back to my boyish days, when I, the laird's
son, and you, the parson's, roamed about our native hills, happy
and careless boys, taking little heed to the future; and then have
followed some thoughts, that may be a little painful, concerning
that future as it has turned out to be."
"Surely, Lundie, ye do not complain of yer portion of it. You've
risen to be a major, and will soon be a lieutenant-colonel, if
letters tell the truth; while I am just one step higher than when
your honored father gave me my first commission, and a poor deevil
of a quartermaster."
"And the four wives?"
"Three, Lundie; three only that were legal, even under our own
liberal and sanctified laws."
"Well, then, let it be three. Ye know, Davy," said Major Duncan,
insensibly dropping into the pronunciation and dialect of his youth,
as is much the practice with educated Scotchmen as they warm with
a subject that comes near the heart, -- "ye know, Davy, that my
own choice has long been made, and in how anxious and hope-wearied
a manner I've waited for that happy hour when I can call the woman
I've so long loved a wife; and here have you, without fortune,
name, birth, or merit -- I mean particular merit -- "
"Na, na; dinna say that, Lundie. The Muirs are of gude bluid."
"Well, then, without aught but bluid, ye've wived four times -- "
"I tall ye but thrice, Lundie. Ye'll weaken auld friendship if ye
call it four."
"Put it at yer own number, Davy; and it's far more than yer share.
Our lives have been very different, on the score of matrimony, at
least; you must allow that, my old friend."
"And which do you think has been the gainer, Major, speaking as
frankly thegither as we did when lads?"
"Nay, I've nothing to conceal. My days have passed in
hope deferred, while yours have passed in -- "
"Not in hope realized, I give you mine honor, Major Duncan,"
interrupted the Quartermaster. "Each new experiment I have thought
might prove an advantage; but disappointment seems the lot of
man. Ah! this is a vain world of ours, Lundie, it must be owned;
and in nothing vainer than in matrimony."
"And yet you are ready to put your neck into the noose for the
fifth time?"
"I desire to say, it will be but the fourth, Major Duncan," said the
Quartermaster positively; then, instantly changing the expression
of his face to one of boyish rapture, he added, "But this Mabel
Dunham is a _rara avis!_ Our Scotch lassies are fair and pleasant;
but it must be owned these colonials are of surpassing comeliness."
"You will do well to recollect your commission and blood,
Davy. I believe all four of your wives -- "
"I wish my dear Lundie, ye'd be more accurate in yer arithmetic.
Three times one make three."
"All three, then, were what might be termed gentlewomen?"
"That's just it, Major. Three were gentlewomen, as you say, and
the connections were suitable."
"And the fourth being the daughter of my father's gardener, the
connection was unsuitable. But have you no fear that marrying
the child of a non-commissioned officer, who is in the same corps
with yourself, will have the effect to lessen your consequence in
the regiment?"
"That's just been my weakness through life, Major Duncan; for I've
always married without regard to consequences. Every man has his
besetting sin, and matrimony, I fear, is mine. And now that we
have discussed what may be called the principles of the connection,
I will just ask if you did me the favor to speak to the Sergeant
on the trifling affair?"
"I did, David; and am sorry to say, for your hopes, that I see no
great chance of your succeeding."
"Not succeeding! An officer, and a quartermaster in the bargain,
and not succeed with a sergeant's daughter!"
"It's just that, Davy."
"And why not, Lundie? Will ye have the goodness to answer just
that?"
"The girl is betrothed. Hand plighted, word passed, love pledged,
-- no, hang me if I believe that either; but she is betrothed."
"Well, that's an obstacle, it must be avowed, Major, though it
counts for little if the heart is free."
"Quite true; and I think it probable the heart is free in this case;
for the intended husband appears to be the choice of the father
rather than of the daughter."
"And who may it be, Major?" asked the Quartermaster, who viewed
the whole matter with the philosophy and coolness acquired by use.
"I do not recollect any plausible suitor that is likely to stand
in my way."
"No, you are the only _plausible_ suitor on the frontier, Davy.
The happy man is Pathfinder."
"Pathfinder, Major Duncan!"
"No more, nor any less, David Muir. Pathfinder is the man; but it
may relieve your jealousy a little to know that, in my judgment at
least, it is a match of the father's rather than of the daughter's
seeking."
"I thought as much!" exclaimed the Quartermaster, drawing a
long breath, like one who felt relieved; "it's quite impossible
that with my experience in human nature - "
"Particularly hu-woman's nature, David."
"Ye will have yer joke, Lundie, let who will suffer. But I did
not think it possible I could be deceived as to the young woman's
inclinations, which I think I may boldly pronounce to be altogether
above the condition of Pathfinder. As for the individual himself
-- why, time will show."
"Now, tell me frankly, Davy Muir," said Lundie, stepping short in
his walk, and looking the other earnestly in the face with a comical
expression of surprise, that rendered the veteran's countenance
ridiculously earnest, --"do you really suppose a girl like the
daughter of Sergeant Dunham can take a serious fancy to a man of
your years and appearance, and experience, I might add?"
"Hout, awa', Lundie! ye dinna know the sax, and that's the reason
yer unmarried in yer forty-fifth year. It's a fearfu' time ye've
been a bachelor, Major!"
"And what may be your age, Lieutenant Muir, if I may presume to
ask so delicate a question?"
"Forty-seven; I'll no' deny it, Lundie; and if I get Mabel, there'll
be just a wife for every twa lustrums. But I didna think Sergeant
Dunham would be so humble minded as to dream of giving that sweet
lass of his to one like the Pathfinder."
"There's no dream about it, Davy; the man is as serious as a soldier
about to be flogged."
"Well, well, Major, we are auld friends," -- both ran into the
Scotch or avoided it, as they approached or drew away from their
younger days, in the dialogue, -- "and ought to know how to take
and give a joke, off duty. It is possible the worthy man has
not understood my hints, or he never would have thought of such a
thing. The difference between an officer's consort and a guide's
woman is as vast as that between the antiquity of Scotland and the
antiquity of America. I'm auld blood, too, Lundie."
"Take my word for it Davy, your antiquity will do you no good in
this affair; and as for your blood, it is not older than your bones.
Well, well, man, ye know the Sergeant's answer; and so ye perceive
that my influence, on which ye counted so much, can do nought for
ye. Let us take a glass thegither, Davy, for auld acquaintance
sake; and then ye'll be doing well to remember the party that marches
the morrow, and to forget Mabel Dunham as fast as ever you can."
"Ah, Major! I have always found it easier to forget a wife than
to forget a sweetheart. When a couple are fairly married, all is
settled but the death, as one may say, which must finally part us
all; and it seems to me awfu' irreverent to disturb the departed;
whereas there is so much anxiety and hope and felicity in expectation
like, with the lassie, that it keeps thought alive."
"That is just my idea of your situation, Davy; for I never supposed
you expected any more felicity with either of your wives. Now,
I've heard of fellows who were so stupid as to look forward to
happiness with their wives even beyond the grave. I drink to your
success, or to your speedy recovery from this attack, Lieutenant;
and I admonish you to be more cautious in future, as some of these
violent cases may yet carry you off."
"Many thanks, dear Major; and a speedy termination to an old
courtship, of which I know something. This is real mountain dew,
Lundie, and it warms the heart like a gleam of bonnie Scotland.
As for the men you've just mentioned, they could have had but one
wife a piece; for where there are several, the deeds of the women
themselves may carry them different ways. I think a reasonable
husband ought to be satisfied with passing his allotted time with
any particular wife in this world, and not to go about moping for
things unattainable. I'm infinitely obliged to you, Major Duncan,
for this and all your other acts of friendship; and if you could
but add another, I should think you had not altogether forgotten
the play-fellow of your boyhood."
"Well, Davy, if the request be reasonable, and such as a superior
ought to grant, out with it, man."
"If ye could only contrive a little service for me, down among the
Thousand Isles, for a fortnight or so, I think this matter might
be settled to the satisfaction of all parties. Just remember,
Lundie, the lassie is the only marriageable white female on this
frontier."
"There is always duty for one in your line at a post, however
small; but this below can be done by the Sergeant as well as by
the Quartermaster-general, and better too."
"But not better than by a regimental officer. There is great waste,
in common, among the orderlies."
"I'll think of it, Muir," said the Major, laughing, "and you shall
have my answer in the morning. Here will be a fine occasion, man,
the morrow, to show yourself off before the lady; you are expert
with the rifle, and prizes are to be won. Make up your mind to
display your skill, and who knows what may yet happen before the
_Scud_ sails."
"I'm thinking most of the young men will try their hands in this
sport, Major!"
"That will they, and some of the old ones too, if you appear. To
keep you in countenance, I'll try a shot or two myself, Davy; and
you know I have some name that way."
"It might, indeed, do good. The female heart, Major Duncan, is
susceptible in many different modes, and sometimes in a way that
the rules of philosophy might reject. Some require a suitor to
sit down before them, as it might be, in a regular siege, and only
capitulate when the place can hold out no longer; others, again,
like to be carried by storm; while there are hussies who can only
be caught by leading them into an ambush. The first is the most
creditable and officer-like process, perhaps; but I must say I
think the last the most pleasing."
"An opinion formed from experience, out of all question. And what
of the storming parties?"
"They may do for younger men, Lundie," returned the Quartermaster,
rising and winking, a liberty that he often took with his commanding
officer on the score of a long intimacy; "every period of life
has its necessities, and at forty-seven it's just as well to trust
a little to the head. I wish you a very good even, Major Duncan,
and freedom from gout, with a sweet and refreshing sleep."
"The same to yourself, Mr. Muir, with many thanks. Remember the
passage of arms for the morrow."
The Quartermaster withdrew, leaving Lundie in his library to reflect
on what had just passed. Use had so accustomed Major Duncan to
Lieutenant Muir and all his traits and humors, that the conduct
of the latter did not strike the former with the same force as it
will probably the reader. In truth, while all men act under one
common law that is termed nature, the varieties in their dispositions,
modes of judging, feelings, and selfishness are infinite.