“Garrison or tent, it all passes for part of the same campaign, you know, Pathfinder; and then my duty keeps me much within sight of the storehouses, greatly contrary to my inclinations, as ye may well suppose, having yourself the ardor of battle in your temperament.  But had ye heard what Mabel had just been saying of you, ye’d no think another minute of making yourself agreeable to the saucy and uncompromising hussy.”

Pathfinder looked earnestly at the lieutenant, for it was impossible he should not feel an interest in what might be Mabel’s opinion; but he had too much of the innate and true feeling of a gentleman to ask to hear what another had said of him.  Muir, however, was not to be foiled by this self-denial and self-respect; for, believing he had a man of great truth and simplicity to deal with, he determined to practise on his credulity, as one means of getting rid of his rivalry.  He therefore pursued the subject, as soon as he perceived that his companion’s self-denial was stronger than his curiosity.

“You ought to know her opinion, Pathfinder,” he continued; “and I think every man ought to hear what his friends and acquaintances say of him:  and so, by way of proving my own regard for your character and feelings, I’ll just tell you in as few words as possible.  You know that Mabel has a wicked, malicious way with them eyes of her own, when she has a mind to be hard upon one’s feelings.”

“To me her eyes, Lieutenant Muir, have always seemed winning and soft, though I will acknowledge that they sometimes laugh; yes, I have known them to laugh, and that right heartily, and with downright goodwill.”

“Well, it was just that then; her eyes were laughing with all their might, as it were; and in the midst of all her fun, she broke out with an exclamation to this effect:  — I hope ‘twill no’ hurt your sensibility, Pathfinder?”

“I will not say Quartermaster, I will not say.  Mabel’s opinion of me is of no more account than that of most others.”

“Then I’ll no’ tell ye, but just keep discretion on the subject; and why should a man be telling another what his friends say of him, especially when they happen to say that which may not be pleasant to hear?  I’ll not add another word to this present communication.”

“I cannot make you speak, Quartermaster, if you are not so minded, and perhaps it is better for me not to know Mabel’s opinion, as you seem to think it is not in my favor.  Ah’s me! if we could be what we wish to be, instead of being only what we are, there would be a great difference in our characters and knowledge and appearance.  One may be rude and coarse and ignorant, and yet happy, if he does not know it; but it is hard to see our own failings in the strongest light, just as we wish to hear the least about them.”

“That’s just the rationale, as the French say, of the matter; and so I was telling Mabel, when she ran away and left me.  You noticed the manner in which she skipped off as you approached?”