“So do I; but I never did. Well, old Dutch William had a very good idea of taking care of himself, that’s all I can say.”
“But come along here; some of the interior is very curious, especially the quadrangles.”
“So I should suppose,” said Glen drily. “But I have a fancy for examining some of these quaint old parterres and carven trees, so we’ll turn down here.”
Richard Millet’s countenance twitched, but he said nothing; and together they strolled about the grounds, the elder pointing out the pretty effects to be seen here and there, the younger seeing nothing but the faces of three ladies standing at a window, and longing to be back in that cloister-like square to gaze upon them again.
“This place will be dull,” said Glen, as he seated himself upon a bench at the edge of a long spread of velvet turf; “but better than dingy Hounslow, and I’ve come to the conclusion that we might be much worse off. The society may turn out pretty decent, after all. This old garden will be splendid for a stroll. And – look there, Dick, the inhabitant of the land is fair. Here is another chance for you to fall in love.”
“What, with one of those old – Oh, I say, look, look! I did not see them at first. Those are the very girls.”
For Richard Millet’s face had been turned in the other direction, and when he first spoke he had only caught sight of the Honourable Misses Dymcox, walking side by side for their morning walk, closely followed by their three nieces, to make up for a close confinement to the house for three days, consequent upon the coming of the fresh troops to the barracks; the military being a necessary evil in the eyes of these elderly ladies, and such dreadful people that they were to be avoided upon all occasions.
“Oh, those are the damsels, are they?” said Glen, watching the little party as they walked straight on along a broad gravel path. “The old ladies look as if they were marching a squad of an Amazonian brigade to relieve guard somewhere. My word: how formal and precise! Now, I’ll be bound to say, my lad, that you would like to see where they are posted, and go and commit a breach of discipline by talking to the pretty sentries.”
“I should,” cried Dick eagerly. “Did you notice them?”
“Well, I must own that they are nice-looking, young inflammable, certainly.”
“But that first one, with the dark hair and eyes – she just glanced towards me – isn’t she lovely?”
“Well, now, that’s odd,” said Glen, smiling. “I suppose it was my conceit: do you know, I fancied that she glanced at me. At all events, I seemed to catch her eye.”
“Ah, it might seem so, but of course she recognised me again! Let’s walk gently after them.”
“What for?”
“To – er – well, to see which way they go.”
“I don’t want to know which way they go, my dear lad, and if I did, why, we can see very well from where we are. There they go, along that path to the right; you can see their dresses amongst the trees; and now they have turned off to the left. Would you like to stand upon the seat?”
“Oh, how cold and impassive you are! I feel as if I must see which way they go, and then we might take a short cut over the grass, and meet them again.”
“When those two fierce-looking old gorgons would see that you were following them up, and they would fire such a round from their watchful eyes that you, my dear boy, would retire in discomfiture, and looking uncommonly foolish. I remember once, when I was somewhere about your age, I had a very severe encounter with a chaperone in a cashmere shawl.”
“Oh, do get up, Glen, there’s a good fellow, and let’s go.”
“I had fallen in love with a young lady. I fancy now that she wore drawers with frills at the bottom, and that her dresses were short – frocks, I believe.”
“There they are again,” cried the boy, jumping up; “look, they are going down that path.”
“I think the young lady was still in the schoolroom, but though undeveloped, and given to slipping her shoulders out of the bands of her frock, she was very pretty – bony, but pretty – and I was desperately in love.”
“How wonderfully they are alike in height!”
“I believe,” continued the captain, in a slow, ponderous way, though all the while he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his companion’s eagerness, “that if I had made love-offerings to my fair young friend – I never knew her name, Dick, and unkindly fate parted us – they would have taken the form of sweet cakes or acidulated drops, and been much appreciated; but alas! – ”
“Oh, hang it all, I can’t stand this! There goes Malpas. He has seen them, and is making chase. Glen, I shall shoot that fellow, or run him through.”
“What for, my boy?”
“Because he is always sitting upon me, and making fun of me at the mess. Hang him! I hate him!”
“Don’t take any notice of his banter,” said Glen seriously, “and if he is very unpleasant, it is more dignified to suffer than to fall out. Between ourselves, and in confidence, I advise you not to quarrel with Major Malpas. He can be very disagreeable when he likes.”
“As if I didn’t know! He was always hanging after our Renée – Mrs Frank Morrison, I mean.”
“Indeed!”
“Before she was married, of course.”
“Oh!”
“And used to treat me like a schoolboy. I hadn’t joined then, you know.”
“No, no, of course not,” said the captain with a peculiar smile.
“But look at him. You can see his black moustache and hooked nose here. He’s going straight for them. Look, don’t you see?”
“Well, yes, he does seem to be doing as you say. If he is, you may just thank your stars.”
“Thank my stars? What for?”
“For his getting the snub that you would have received had you been so foolish as to go after those ladies – for they are ladies, Dick.”
“Yes, of course, but it is horrible to be bested like this. Will you come?”
“No; and I won’t let you go. Sit still, you little stupid, and – there, see how propitious the fates are to you!” he continued, as he saw something unnoticed by his little companion.
“What do you mean?”
“Why, the enemy.”
“The enemy?”
“Well, the Amazonian brigade have seen the demonstration being made by the Major on their left flank, the officer in command has given the order, and they have countermarched and are returning by troops from the left.”
“But are they coming back this way?”
“To be sure they are, and if you sit still you will be able to enfilade them as they retreat.”
“Oh, please don’t – pray don’t, Glen, there’s a good fellow!”
“My dear boy, don’t what?”
“Don’t light another cigar. Elderly ladies hate smoking, and you’ll send them off in another direction. Besides, it’s forbidden.”
“Oh, very well, most inflammable of youths. I shall have to make this the subject of a despatch to mamma.”
“Hush! be quiet. Don’t seem to notice them, or they may turn off another way. I say, old Malpas is done.”
“And you are able to deliver a charge without change of position.”
It might have been from design, or it might have been pure accident, for ladies’ pockets always do seem made to hold their contents unsafely. Certain it was, however,