“Wisha, then, sorr,” said Murphy, jerking his thumb towards the sombre column passing, “thim laads is the laads f’r to twisht th’ Dootch pigtails on thim Hissians at Half-moon.  They do be pigtails on th’ Dootch a fut long in the eel-skin.  Faith, I saw McCraw’s scalp—­’twas wan o’ Harrod’s men tuk it, not I, sorr!—­an’ ‘twas red an’ ratty, wid nary a lock to lift it, more shame to McCraw!”

Mount stood, balancing now on his heels, now on his toes, inhaling and expelling his breath like a man who has had more than a morning draught of cider.

He laid his head on one side, like an enormous bird, and regarded me with a simper, as though lost in admiration.

“Three cheers for the Colonel,” he observed, thickly, and took off his cap.

“’Ray!” echoed Elerson, regarding the unsteadiness of Mount’s legs with an expression of wonder and pity.

I bade Mount saddle my mare and prepare to accompany me to headquarters.  He saluted amiably; presently they started across the yard for their quarters, distributing morsels of wisdom and advice among the militiamen, who stared at them with awe and pointed at their beaded shot—­pouches, which were, alas! adorned with fringes of coarse hair, dyed scarlet.

But Morgan must worry over that.  I had other matters to stir me and set my pulses beating heavily as I walked to the door, opened it, and looked out into the hallway.

Children’s voices came from the library below; I rested my hand on the banisters, aiding my stiffened limbs in the descent, and limped down the stairs.

Cecile spied me first.  She was sitting on the porch with a very, very young ensign of Half-moon militia, watching the passing troops; and she sprang to her feet and threw her arms about my neck, kissing me again and again, a proceeding viewed with concern by the very young ensign of Half-moon militia.

“You darling!” she whispered.  “Dorothy’s in the library with father and the children.  Lean on me, you poor boy!  How you have suffered!  And to think that you loved her all the time!  Ah!” she whispered, sentimentally, pressing my arm, “how rare is constancy!  How adorable it must be to be adored!”

There was a rush of children as we entered, and Cecile cried, “You little beasts, have you no manners?” But they were clinging to me, limb and body, and I stood there, caressing them, eyes fixed on my cousin Dorothy, who had risen from her chair.

She was very pale and quiet, and the hand she left in mine seemed lifeless as I bent to kiss it.  But, upon the bridal finger, I saw the ghost-ring, a thin, rosy band, and I thrilled from head to foot with happiness unspeakable.

“Get him a chair, Harry!” said Sir Lupus.  “Sit down, George; and what shall it be, my boy, cold mulled or spiced to cheer you on your journey?  Or, as the Glencoe brawlers have it, ‘Wha’s f’r poonch?’”

I sank into my chair, saying I desired nothing; and my eyes never left Dorothy, who sat with golden head bent, folding and refolding the ruffled corner of her apron, raising her lovely eyes at moments to look across at me.