"Oh, the Indian mail is in, and has brought an account of a hard-fought battle between our fellows and those desperate Sikhs. Egerton's name is most honourably mentioned. Langley has very kindly sent me the second edition of the "Times," there it is, read it for yourself."
And Kate, untying her bonnet, seized the paper, and throwing herself into the nearest chair, read the official account, which, dry as it was, sufficed to flush her cheek, and set all her pulses throbbing.
"Lieutenant Colonel A——, having been severely wounded in the beginning of the action, Major Egerton led the —— Lancers, in repeated charges on the enemies' guns, which were defended with a courage and determination indicative of European training; but they were in the possession of the Lancers before four o'clock. I have great pleasure in drawing your lordship's attention to the conduct of this regiment generally, and in particular to that of the gallant officer in command, whom I beg to recommend to your lordship's notice."
"Ah, that is delightful; I dare say Captain Egerton does not regret having gone to India now! It does not say if he was wounded? Are there any private letters?" turning the paper in every direction.
"No, not until next mail, I fancy."
"What news for Mr. and Mrs. Winter," she continued; "how he will rejoice, and grumble, and pooh, pooh, over it."
"Och, the crathure!" exclaimed Mrs. O'Toole, who, as usual, on any occasion of excitement, was always at hand; "his soul 'ud niver rouse up at the word iv a fight; he's not got the blood in his vains for it. Sure, it's only the ould stock that's niver to say in rale pleasure, if they're not in the middle iv divilmint an' danger, jest look at Miss Kate's eyes, like two dimints, this minit. Though I'll go bail she's as white as a sheet at the sight iv a cut-finger, her heart's chargin the Sicks with the Captin. Sicks indeed! faith, he sickened thim sure enough; but it was on a boy's milk ye wor rared, avourneen, so it's no wondher."
"I do feel excited," said Kate, laughing; "some strange sympathy with—I do not know what! for in how many things I am a coward?"
"I believe it is the blood in your veins, Kate," returned the Colonel. "Nurse is right."
"Athen, if poor little Misther Gilpin, (the heavens be his bed,) was alive now, what a power iv rale sinse he'd talk about it; wouldn't he lay all the battles to the divil's door; well, they're terrible heart-breakin' things, entirely; an' the dear knows where me poor Dinny is this blessed night—may be, asleep in a ditch, or—but faith, any ways he's alive, I feel that as sure as if I seen him livin' fornent me!"