While I was thinking of this—as we deemed it, fantastic idea—a hand was laid on my shoulder. I looked up and saw Major Shirley, who requested me to accompany him a little way apart. I could perceive by the light of the moon on one hand, and that of our watchfire on the other, that he was remarkably pale and somewhat agitated.
"Gauntlet," said he, with a smile, but with a very sickly one, "I have here a letter for you."
"From whom?"
"Your cousin; a letter which I quite forgot to deliver to you when I joined the army in Paderborn."
"This is somewhat odd—you forgot, eh?"
"Exactly; very awkward, is it not?"
"Rather," said I, somewhat ruffled. "Seven months have elapsed since you came from England, and you only remember it now! Do you recal that you stated she had not sent even a message to me?"
"Zounds! 'tis a fact, however odd," he replied, calmly, and in a very subdued voice. "I only bethought me to-night that the letter was in my dressing-case. We are to be engaged to-morrow; I may be knocked on the head as well as another, and thus have no wish to leave even the most trivial duty unfulfilled. You understand me?"
"Precisely," said I, with some contempt of manner.
"Here is your letter—adieu. I have an order for the Marquis of Granby. Where is his tent?"