“Oh well, that’s all right,” said Young Islay, seemingly relieved. “Look here; I’m gone, that’s the long and the short of it! I’m seeing a week or two of hard work before me convincing her ladyship that a young ensign in a marching regiment is maybe worth her smiling on.”
Gilian turned cold with apprehension. This, indeed, was a revelation of love-making in garrison fashion.
“You don’t know the girl at all,” he said.
“So much the better,” said Young Islay; “that means that she does not know me, and that’s all the better start for me, perhaps. It’s a great advantage, for I’ve noticed that they’re all the most interested—the sex of them—in a novelty. I have a better chance than the best man in these parts, that has been under her eye all the time I was away. I’ll have stiff work, perhaps, but I want her, and between ourselves, and not to make a brag of it, I’ll have her. Youll not breathe that,” he added, turning in apprehension, stopping opposite Gilian and putting his hand on his coat lapel. “I am wrong to mention it at all even to you, but I must out with what I feel to somebody. The thing is dirling in my blood. Listen, do you hear that?” He threw out his chest again, held his breath, and Gilian could almost swear he heard his heart throb with feeling.
“Does she want you? That’s the question, I suppose,” said Gilian weakly.
“That is not the question at all, it’s do I want her? There must be a beginning somewhere. Look at me; I’m strong, young, not very ugly (at least they tell me), I’m the grandson of Long Islay, who had a name for gallantry; the girl has no lover—Has she?” he asked eagerly, suddenly dropping his confidence.
“Not that I’m aware of,” said Gilian.
“Well, there you are! What more is to be said? In these things one has but to wish and win—at least that’s been my training and my conviction. Here she’s lonely—I could see it in her; the company of her father is not likely to be long for her, and her Uncle Jamie is not what you would call a cheerful spark. Upon my soul, I believe I could get her if I was a hunchback.... Mind, I’m not lightlying the lady; I could not do that in this mood, but I’m fair taken with her; she beats all ever I saw. You know the feeling? No, you don’t; you’re too throng at book notions. God! God! God! I’m all ashake!”
He looked at Gilian, trying in the dark to make out how he was taking this, to make sure he was not laughing at him. Gilian, on the contrary, was feeling very solemn. He felt that this was a dangerously effective mood for a lover, and he knew the lad before him would always bring it to actual wooing if it got that length. He had no answer, and Young Islay again believed him the abstracted dreamer.
“I have this advantage,” he went on, unable to resist. “She likes soldiers; she said as much; it was in her mother and in her; she likes action, she likes spirit. She has them herself in faith! she almost boxed my ears when—when—but I could swear she was rather tickled at my impudence.”