“That has been also tried.”
“Why, how do you mean?”
“A mock duel, got up at mess,—we had one at Malta. Poor Vickers was the hero of that affair. It was right well planned, too. One of the letters was suffered, by mere accident, to fall into Mrs. Dal’s hands, and she was quite prepared for the event when he was reported shot the next morning. Then the young lady, of course, whether she cared or not, was obliged to be perfectly unconcerned, lest the story of engaged affections might get wind and spoil another market. The thing went on admirably, till one day, some few months later, they saw, in a confounded army-list, that the late George Vickers was promoted to the 18th Dragoons, so that the trick was discovered, and is, of course, stale at present.”
“Then could I not have a wife already, and a large family of interesting babies?”
“No go,—only swell the damages, when they come to prosecute. Besides, your age and looks forbid the assumption of such a fact. No, no; we must go deeper to work.”
“But where shall we go?” said I, impatiently; “for it appears to me these good people have been treated to every trick and subterfuge that ever ingenuity suggested.”
“Come, I think I have it; but it will need a little more reflection. So, now, let us to bed. I’ll give you the result of my lucubrations at breakfast; and, if I mistake not, we may get you through this without any ill-consequences. Good-night, then, old boy; and now dream away of your lady-love till our next meeting.”
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE PREPARATION.