At this proposal Fergus laughed heartily, and answered, when he had recovered his breath—­’Many thanks, Bailie; but you must know, it is a general custom among us soldiers to make our landlady our banker.  Here, Mrs. Flockhart,’ said he, taking four or five broad pieces out of a well-filled purse and tossing the purse itself, with its remaining contents, into her apron, ’these will serve my occasions; do you take the rest.  Be my banker if I live, and my executor if I die; but take care to give something to the Highland cailliachs [Footnote:  Old women, on whom devolved the duty of lamenting for the dead, which the Irish call keening.] that shall cry the coronach loudest for the last Vich lan Vohr.’

‘It is the testamentum militare,’ quoth the Baron, ’whilk, amang the Romans, was privilegiate to be nuncupative.’  But the soft heart of Mrs. Flockhart was melted within her at the Chieftain’s speech; she set up a lamentable blubbering, and positively refused to touch the bequest, which Fergus was therefore obliged to resume.

‘Well, then,’ said the Chief, ’if I fall, it will go to the grenadier that knocks my brains out, and I shall take care he works hard for it.’

Bailie Macwheeble was again tempted to put in his oar; for where cash was concerned he did not willingly remain silent.  ’Perhaps he had better carry the gowd to Miss Mac-Ivor, in case of mortality or accidents of war.  It might tak the form of a mortis causa donation in the young leddie’s favour, and—­wad cost but the scrape of a pen to mak it out.’

‘The young lady,’ said Fergus,’should such an event happen, will have other matters to think of than these wretched louis-d’or.’

‘True—­undeniable—­there’s nae doubt o’ that; but your honour kens that a full sorrow—­’

’Is endurable by most folk more easily than a hungry one?  True, Bailie, very true; and I believe there may even be some who would be consoled by such a reflection for the loss of the whole existing generation.  But there is a sorrow which knows neither hunger nor thirst; and poor Flora—­’ He paused, and the whole company sympathised in his emotion.

The Baron’s thoughts naturally reverted to the unprotected state of his daughter, and the big tear came to the veteran’s eye.  ’If I fall, Macwheeble, you have all my papers and know all my affairs; be just to Rose.’

The Bailie was a man of earthly mould, after all; a good deal of dirt and dross about him, undoubtedly, but some kindly and just feelings he had, especially where the Baron or his young mistress were concerned.  He set up a lamentable howl.  ’If that doleful day should come, while Duncan Macwheeble had a boddle it should be Miss Rose’s.  He wald scroll for a plack the sheet or she kenn’d what it was to want; if indeed a’ the bonnie baronie o’ Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, with the fortalice and manor-place thereof (he kept sobbing and whining at every pause), tofts, crofts, mosses, muirs—­outfield,