“What are you thinking of?” said she, at last
“I was thinking of a strange thing,—it was this: About a week ago there was no effort I was not making to obtain the command of my regiment. I wanted to be Lieutenant-Colonel; and so bent was I on gaining my object, that if giving away three or four years of that life that I may hope for would have done it, I 'd have closed the bargain; and now the ambition is gone, and I am speculating whether I 'll not take the cottage of your friend Major M'Cormick,—he offered it to me last night,—and become your neighbor. What say you to the project?”
“For us the exchange will be all a gain.”
“I want your opinion,—your own,” said he, with a voice reduced to a mere whisper.
“I'd like it of all things; although, if I were your sister or your daughter, I'd not counsel it.”
“And why not, if you were my sister?” said he, with a certain constraint in his manner.
“I'd say it was inglorious to change from the noble activity of a soldier's life to come and dream away existence here.”
“But what if I have done enough for this same thing men call fame? I have had my share of campaigning, and as the world looks there is wondrous little prospect of any renewal of it. These peace achievements suit your friend Conyers better than me.”
“I think you are not just to him. If I read him aright, he is burning for an occasion to distinguish himself.”
A cold shrug of the shoulders was his only acknowledgment of this speech, and again a silence fell between them.