“If papa wishes it,” answered Miss Janet demurely.
“Then so be it,” laughed Weston; “I accept the responsible post of commandant of Ralfontein. When do you start for the seat of war?”
“Not for some days,” responded the captain. “Whilst at Graham’s Town I did a stroke of business—sold thirty horses to the government. A sergeant’s party of the Rifles are to fetch them in the course of a week or so, and I propose to return with them. And that reminds me I have accepted, in part payment for the horses, a brass six-pounder field-piece, with eighty rounds of canister, grape, and shell. The escort will bring it up with them. Should you have to defend the farm, you will find this gun of considerable service.”
The captain and Mr Weston sat up talking long after the others had sought their couches, and before they retired to rest Mr Weston told his friend that he had formed an attachment for Janet Jamieson.
“I did not intend to broach the subject until I had consulted with Matthew Flinders,” said he; “but after your request that I should remain in charge of your property and family during your absence, I felt in honour bound to mention it. In spite of the disparity in our ages, I cannot but think your daughter returns my affection. If such is the case, are you willing to give her to me?”
And as Captain Jamieson had no objection to offer, but on the contrary appeared well satisfied that the “course of true love should run smooth,” Mr Weston next morning asked Miss Janet to be his wife; to which tender question the young lady, with a becoming blush, said “Yes.”