“Oh! now I understand you, and can easily account for your long face and evident astonishment.”
“Now you understand me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, allow me to tell you frankly that you are very foolish; you are not a military man, and have made the offer, it is true, very likely in a moment of enthusiasm; but plead any excuse you can to get out of it if you are sent for; remain where you are—‘Good folks are scarce,’ says the proverb.”
“Thanks to the proverb first, and you afterwards,” said I.
“And if you do go, it is a hundred to one against your returning.”
“Many thanks for your frank advice; but I am determined to go, and if Government send for me, I wish to be ready at a day’s notice; so sure I am that I can render some services to my fellow-creatures by so doing.”
“I have no doubt you can—but you may catch the fever, or God knows what besides! Why, they are dying by fifties and sixties a-day in the hospital at Scutari; look, here is the latest account, the names of the poor fellows defunct, and number of their regiments. There is no mistake in that.”
“I am aware of all that; but mind you, my firm belief is, that no fruit falls from the tree to the ground till it is perfectly ripe; and I also believe that we are never gathered from this frivolous world till we are really wanted in the other.”
“Such being your determination, it is no use talking any more about it; I only hope your health will not fail you, and that you will return and keep us alive as you did last year. I can assure you, your joyful dinner party, or ‘feet shampeter,’ as Mary the barmaid called it, and you used to say in French, was the talk of the country round. It is only three days ago that Colonel Cholmondeley was inquiring after you, and asking whether you had left the neighbourhood.”