‘Know what?’
‘Well—John Clark—now Sergeant-Major Clark—wasn’t shot at Alma after all. ’Twas another of almost the same name.’
‘Now that’s interesting! There were several cases like that.’
‘And he’s home again; and he’s coming here to-night to see her.’
‘Whatever shall I say, that he may not be offended with what I’ve done?’ interposed Selina.
‘But why should it matter if he be?’
‘O! I must agree to be his wife if he forgives me—of course I must.’
‘Must! But why not say nay, Selina, even if he do forgive ’ee?’
‘O no! How can I without being wicked? You were very very kind, Mr. Miller, to ask me to have you; no other man would have done it after what had happened; and I agreed, even though I did not feel half so warm as I ought. Yet it was entirely owing to my believing him in the grave, as I knew that if he were not he would carry out his promise; and this shows that I was right in trusting him.’
‘Yes . . . He must be a goodish sort of fellow,’ said Mr. Miller, for a moment so impressed with the excellently faithful conduct of the sergeant-major of dragoons that he disregarded its effect upon his own position. He sighed slowly and added, ‘Well, Selina, ’tis for you to say. I love you, and I love the boy; and there’s my chimney-corner and sticks o’ furniture ready for ’ee both.’