“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?”