“Not in hope realized, I give you mine honor, Major Duncan,” interrupted the Quartermaster. “Each new experiment I have thought might prove an advantage; but disappointment seems the lot of man. Ah! this is a vain world of ours, Lundie, it must be owned; and in nothing vainer than in matrimony.”
“And yet you are ready to put your neck into the noose for the fifth time?”
“I desire to say, it will be but the fourth, Major Duncan,” said the Quartermaster positively; then, instantly changing the expression of his face to one of boyish rapture, he added, “But this Mabel Dunham is a rara avis! Our Scotch lassies are fair and pleasant; but it must be owned these colonials are of surpassing comeliness.”
“You will do well to recollect your commission and blood, Davy. I believe all four of your wives—”
“I wish my dear Lundie, ye'd be more accurate in yer arithmetic. Three times one make three.”
“All three, then, were what might be termed gentlewomen?”
“That's just it, Major. Three were gentlewomen, as you say, and the connections were suitable.”
“And the fourth being the daughter of my father's gardener, the connection was unsuitable. But have you no fear that marrying the child of a non-commissioned officer, who is in the same corps with yourself, will have the effect to lessen your consequence in the regiment?”
“That's just been my weakness through life, Major Duncan; for I've always married without regard to consequences. Every man has his besetting sin, and matrimony, I fear, is mine. And now that we have discussed what may be called the principles of the connection, I will just ask if you did me the favor to speak to the Sergeant on the trifling affair?”
“I did, David; and am sorry to say, for your hopes, that I see no great chance of your succeeding.”