"Don't," interrupted Wilton. "Remonstrance is sheer loss of time and breath; if you persist, I will leave you to finish your port alone."
Moncrief succumbed, though with an ill grace, and Wilton proceeded to lay the question of exchange into a regiment already in India, or one about to proceed there, before his ancient mentor, and gradually drew him into better humor, especially as he noted that Wilton's professional ambition was by no means dulled or engulfed by the tide of passion that swept him away in another direction.
"Well, I never thought I should find you looking forward contentedly to a life in India," said the major, after a long and animated talk, anent the pros and cons of Wilton's views; "you used to long for a stake in the 'old countrie.'"
"Yes; but that was because Lord St. George put it into my head. Now, that is at an end."
"Ah! just so—this infernal marriage! What do you intend to do with him, eh?"
"I have not given it a thought—or, rather, scarcely a thought. I will marry first, and decide after. I tell you candidly, Moncrief, when first I made up my mind to risk everything, rather than part with Ella, I had a stupid, cowardly idea of a private marriage; but I soon gave that up; it was too deucedly ungentlemanlike; and then Ella would despise even a shadow of double-dealing! No; when we are married, and I have time, I will write to the old viscount, and—"
"By George! this is too bad," cried the major, getting up and pacing the room in an agony. "Fortune, and fair prospects, and—and everything flung overboard, for the sake of a white-faced bit of a girl that you would forget in two months if you made the first stand. It's like giving up drink or cigars; the first week is the brunt of the battle!"
"Don't talk blasphemy," returned Wilton, sternly; "nor waste time and breath."
"Well, well!" resumed the rebuked major; "look here, do not be in too great a hurry to write to the old peer. I met St. George Wilton to-day; he told me Lord St. George was down at Brandestone, and very shaky; perhaps you had better not write to him till the honeymoon is over. O Lord! won't you be ready to cut your throat when you get his answer! But I trust he will die, and leave you the property in the meantime."
"He will not do that," said Wilton, gravely. "But, tell me, what is St. George doing in town? I hate that fellow instinctively."