"J. STUART, Major-General."
"So, Gask, you are bound for Scylla?" said I, glad the note contained only a friendly hint.
"Yes, sir."
"You will go with me, as it is unsafe for you to travel alone in such a country as this. I set out the day after to-morrow."
"I am much obliged to you, sir, for your forethought. Do we march by daybreak?"
"No, no," I answered, laughing; "that would scarcely suit; but retire with the chamberlain, who will order you a luncheon and tell you news."
Though pleased with Sir John's friendly attention, I could very well have dispensed with the presence of my countryman, the sergeant; who was a true blue Presbyterian from the Howe of Fife, an ardent worshipper of Eben Erskine, and one, consequently, who would look with pious horror on the popish ceremonies of the morrow: which there was no doubt he would witness, with the household of the castello.
Poor Gask! He was a worthy and good soldier, for whom the whole corps had a sincere respect. Educated for our stern Scottish kirk, some misfortunes in early life forced him into the ranks, where his superior attainments and classical education made him a marvel among the Wiltshire men, and gained him three stripes, although it could do nothing more; the quiet tenor of his way being the reverse of the smart drill-corporal or bustling sergeant-major, who looks forward to the post of adjutant. He was the beau-ideal of a Scottish soldier, grave, intelligent, and steady; and was seldom seen, unless, book in hand, reading in some retired nook, when his comrades were roystering in the canteen or sutler's tent. Poor Gask! this page is the only tribute to your memory.
Next day the marriages were celebrated with great pomp, in the church of St. Eufemio, at Nicastro: that of the visconte and Francesca took place first, and was followed by that of Bianca and myself. A new uniform coat was quite spoiled by the holy water, which the bishop sprinkled over us very liberally; and my white "regimental breeches" were totally ruined by the rough Mosaic of the church, when I advanced on my knees, with a lighted candle in one hand, to present bread and wine to the bishop, while old Adriano waved the stole over us, according to the usage of the land.
"Ah! if any of our mess could see me just now, how the rogues would laugh!" thought I, while scrambling along the aisle, with the hot wax dropping on my fingers from the confounded taper, which I did not hold so gracefully as Bianca held hers. Grand as the ceremony was, I disliked so much of it, and dreaded to encounter the cold smile and smirking face of Sergeant Gask; who stood, upright as a pike, among the kneeling domestics.