'The general is an enthusiast on all that pertains to the regiment, and quite a detachment of it, in the shape of old pensioners, is quartered on his property. His Indian anecdotes are a little prosy, as he lugs them in on every conceivable occasion; but he is such a dear old fellow, that one can't help listening to his yarns about curry and rice; and a curious one he told me, last night, may interest you, as it referred to his son and a detachment of "Ours."
'When they were in Central India, Piers Montgomerie, with forty Cameronians and some natives, invested a fort named the Ghurry of Kittoor, a square edifice with towers at the corners, armed with heavy gingals and a few small cannon. The Potail commanding it was a resolute fellow, believing himself shot-proof, by an amulet he wore, and he was custodian of a great amount of treasure in gold mohurs, of which Piers had orders to deprive him. The fort was stormed, the Potail slain, and the treasure-chest was found, but totally empty—verifying the last words of the Potail, who, when dying, swore upon the Koran that there was not even an anna in the place, and that all the slaughter had been for nothing.
'Before the gate of the Ghurry there grew a tree of vast size and age, which Captain Montgomerie ordered his men to cut down for fuel. The soldier who hewed down the first branch brought away with it a literal shower of gold—gold that flashed in the sunshine and studded all the green sward like yellow buttercups; and there, sure enough, in the hollow trunk of the tree, was found treasure to the value of fifty thousand golden mohurs, to the bewilderment and joy of the Cameronians, who had been on such short rations for some time past, that they were ready to share the repast of Count Ugolino.
'I listen patiently to such yarns, because I am anxious to remain in his good graces; would that I could also be in those of his ward and niece!
'I believe, Leslie, that you are nearer to my heart than any other friend I ever had, so I don't mind owning to you that I am in for it—about to fall in love! I have always been at the same old game, you will say; but this time I fear that I am in terrible earnest, and have met my fate! But the deuce is, that she is a great heiress, while I have only my pay, or little more, and dare not lift my eyes so high; besides, what would be the use, as I strongly suspect that, with the general's wish and consent, she is the fiancée of his heir—the most unamiable, yet enviable, Cousin Hew!
'She is more than handsome—she is downright beautiful! Somewhat of a brunette, only a very pale and colourless one, with a small straight nose, dark hazel eyes, and dark brown hair, and her mouth is the sweetest in expression I ever saw; but I think I see you laughing at all this, you unbelieving villain!
'Even now, as I write in the library, she makes a delicious picture, with her beautiful slender throat and shapely head, as she stands in an oriel, whispering to a canary which flutters its golden wings against the bars of its cage, and takes from her rosy lips a crumb of sugar in its bill.
'She is frank and open-hearted, and somehow seems to sympathise with all my thoughts and fancies, and we have already gone some length in a mixture of confidential jest and earnest, which, though it may only amuse her, is perilous work to me. She is, perhaps, a little proud of her beauty; but what pretty girl is not? She seems a creature that draws brightness from all around her, while dispensing it in return, and to have been made only to be petted, admired, and caressed.
'You will think that I am hit hard. Well, old fellow, I grant to you that I am, and already a remoteness seems to have come over my past—our old barrack-room life at Dumbarton and elsewhere.
'To be hourly in the society of such a girl—to have her daily to walk, to ride, to sing with—is sure to have but one end. Her voice, by the way, is a clear and thrilling soprano—her touch upon the keys is full of tenderness; but a distrust of myself besets me sorely, and leaves unspoken the words that—despite the existence of Cousin Hew—hover on my lips.