She bent her head.
"Thank you, Roy. At the least I can promise to do one thing. I can wait to see."
[CHAPTER XXX]
SIR JOHN MOORE
So soon as the first excitement of Roy's arrival began to subside, his thoughts turned in the old direction, towards the Army.
Mr. Bryce took upon himself to act as he knew that the Colonel would have acted if able; and a brief space of time saw Roy being transformed into a smart young subaltern, in the same regiment of infantry where Jack had lately obtained his Captaincy.
"And now," Roy said, not once but a dozen times, to Molly, "the one thing in the world I want is to serve under Moore!"
"Are you in such a hurry to go away from us again?" Molly asked wistfully. But she understood, as she would not have understood five years earlier, and before Roy could speak she added,—"I know. Of course you can't help it. You must wish to go! Only I hope you won't stay away too long."
"We've got to squash Napoleon before anybody can think of stopping at home."
In the beginning of this year, 1808, Moore had returned to England from the Mediterranean, after an absence of nearly two years. Then he had his last holiday. Four months of rest were granted to the hard-worked warrior, who during thirty years had held himself at his Country's service, fighting for her in all parts of the world, and being at least four times severely wounded. At this date he was looked upon by competent judges as the foremost man in the British Army, as the one to whom, above all others, England in her hour of need would turn.