“As for me,” lisped a large-eyed, white-haired ensign of three months’ standing, “I think it devilish hard, old Carden didn’t send me down there, too, for I hear there are two girls in the family.  Eh, Lorrequer?”

Having with all that peculiar bashfulness such occasions are sure to elicit, disclaimed the happiness my friends so clearly ascribed to me, I yet pretty plainly let it be understood that the more brilliant they supposed my present prospects to be, the more near were they to estimate them justly.  One thing certainly gratified me throughout.  All seemed rejoiced at my good fortune, and even the old Scotch paymaster made no more caustic remark than that he “wad na wonder if the chiel’s black whiskers wad get him made governor of Stirling Castle before he’d dee.”

Should any of my most patient listeners to these my humble confessions, wonder either here, or elsewhere, upon what very slight foundations I built these my “Chateaux en Espagne,” I have only one answer—­“that from my boyhood I have had a taste for florid architecture, and would rather put up with any inconvenience of ground, than not build at all.”

As it was growing late I hurriedly bade adieu to my friends, and hastened to Colonel Carden’s quarters, where I found him waiting for me, in company with my old friend, Fitzgerald, our regimental surgeon.  Our first greetings over, the colonel drew me aside into a window, and said that, from certain expressions Lord Callonby had made use of—­certain hints he had dropped—­he was perfectly aware of the delicate position in which I stood with respect to his lordship’s family.  “In fact, my dear Lorrequer,” he continued, “without wishing in the least to obtrude myself upon your confidence, I must yet be permitted to say, you are the luckiest fellow in Europe, and I most sincerely congratulate you on the prospect before you.”

“But, my dear Colonel, I assure you—­”

“Well, well, there—­not a word more; don’t blush now.  I know there is always a kind of secrecy thought necessary on these occasions, for the sake of other parties; so let us pass to your plans.  From what I have collected, you have not yet proposed formally.  But, of course you desire a leave.  You’ll not quit the army, I trust; no necessity for that; such influence as yours can always appoint you to an unattached commission.”

“Once more let me protest, sir, that though for certain reasons most desirous to obtain a leave of absence, I have not the most remote—­”

“That’s right, quite right; I am sincerely gratified to hear you say so, and so will be Lord Callonby; for he likes the service.”

And thus was my last effort at a disclaimer cut short by the loquacious little colonel, who regarded my unfinished sentence as a concurrence with his own opinion.

“Allah il Allah,” thought I, “it is my Lord Callonby’s own plot; and his friend Colonel Cardon aids and abets him.”