To this there appeared no objection, and Mr. Armstrong readily gave his consent, but Mary had not forgotten her mother's fears.
"Oh, father," she exclaimed, "do you think mamma will mind my going? you know how anxious she always is even when I ride quietly before breakfast."
Mr. Armstrong was about to say that his wife was not likely to oppose his wishes, when the colonel exclaimed,—"I will go up and quiet her fears about Mary's safety."
He was not absent many minutes, but as he remounted his horse Mary knew he had succeeded, for on looking up she saw her mother at the window nodding and smiling at her as she rode off with her uncle.
Rowland, who remained behind, stood for a few moments watching his young mistress as she and her uncle rode towards Piccadilly. Then as he turned to take his horse to the stables he said to himself,—"Master wont get his way with that young lady, I can see, with all his queer rules about what she is to do."
Mary breakfasted with her aunt and uncle in Park Lane, and in less than an hour after started to be present at the review. She certainly felt a little nervous at first when she found herself among a group of officers and ladies on horseback, or in carriages near the flagstaff, especially when the soldiers were preparing for the first volley.
But Boosey stood firm, and that gave her courage to sit and calmly watch the varied performances of the men so easily seen from such an advantageous point of view.
Many questions were asked the colonel respecting the little equestrian, who looked very attractive in her riding attire. The long curls falling to the waist over the dark blue riding-habit would have been called golden in these days; and a black beaver hat, with a drooping feather and a broad brim, did not quite conceal the fair complexion and delicate features of the really pretty child. When asked, "Who is your little friend?" the colonel would merely reply, "My niece." No mention was made of her name, or of the fact of her being a tradesman's daughter, for in those days of exclusiveness it would have created a feeling of surprise.
More than fourteen years have passed since Edward Armstrong became the husband of the young girl who owed her life to his energy and courage.
A marriage under such circumstances was not unlikely to be accompanied with real affection on both sides, although a union of those who occupy different positions socially is seldom truly happy.