‘Good-night! Health, wealth, and long life to ye!’ said Sergeant-major Wills, taking her hand from Brett.
‘I trust to meet ye again as the wife of a worthy man,’ said Trumpeter Buck.
‘We’ll drink your health throughout the campaign, and so good-bye t’ye,’ said Saddler-sergeant Jones, raising her hand to his lips.
Three others followed with similar remarks, to each of which Anne blushingly replied as well as she could, wishing them a prosperous voyage, easy conquest, and a speedy return.
But, alas, for that! Battles and skirmishes, advances and retreats, fevers and fatigues, told hard on Anne’s gallant friends in the coming time. Of the seven upon whom these wishes were bestowed, five, including the trumpet-major, were dead men within the few following years, and their bones left to moulder in the land of their campaigns.
John lingered behind. When the others were outside, expressing a final farewell to his father, Bob, and Mrs. Loveday, he came to Anne, who remained within.
‘But I thought you were going to look in again before leaving?’ she said gently.
‘No; I find I cannot. Good-bye!’
‘John,’ said Anne, holding his right hand in both hers, ‘I must tell you something. You were wise in not taking me at my word that day. I was greatly mistaken about myself. Gratitude is not love, though I wanted to make it so for the time. You don’t call me thoughtless for what I did?’
‘My dear Anne,’ cried John, with more gaiety than truthfulness, ‘don’t let yourself be troubled! What happens is for the best. Soldiers love here to-day and there to-morrow. Who knows that you won’t hear of my attentions to some Spanish maid before a month is gone by? ’Tis the way of us, you know; a soldier’s heart is not worth a week’s purchase—ha, ha! Goodbye, good-bye!’