"Eight years I have spent, of the prime of my life, in the service of my country; a few shillings, the remainder of my marching-money, is all I possess in the world; and I have returned to my mother's house, a poorer man, in every respect, than I left it."
A cloud passed over his brow—a sigh escaped—his altered look Jeanie watched with pain. She spoke not, but the sigh fell on his mother's ear. She grasped his hand, and, pressing it to her bosom,
"Jamie," said she, "my bairn, why do ye sigh on this blessed day? Are ye vexed that ye hae come back to yer auld mither and Jeanie?"
"I am not, mother," replied he; "indeed; I am not; but a few painful recollections steal over my mind; and the consciousness that I am alone the cause adds to their bitterness. Jennie, I am at home, and find you all I could wish; but complete happiness is yet at a distance. We cannot be united until I have recovered, by care and industry, what I have lost by my unprofitable absence."
Jeanie blushed, and hung down her head; her breast seemed too narrow to contain the feelings that rose in it; but his mother hastily interfered.
"Jamie," said she, "ye maunna tak that view o' yer situation. This cottage, and a' that is in it, is yer ain. Ye'll no begrudge me my room in it for a' my time; and yer cousin has saved some pounds for this happy meeting, and winna put ye aff as she ance did before—for now she's satisfied ye're an altered man. What say ye, lassie? Am I richt?"
Jeanie spoke not; but her looks showed her approval; and the happy pair sat gazing at him as if they feared he was soon about to leave them, and they could not look enough. I began to speak of the scenes he had witnessed in Spain, when his mother inquired what he considered his most unlooked-for escape.
"Indeed, mother," he replied, "it is hard to say; but I think it was at the storming of Badajos, before my better feelings had returned to me. I was then reckless of everything; and, being in the grenadier company, I volunteered for the forlorn hope. I had been before on the same duty, and knew it was as well to volunteer as to be commanded, for the duty must be done, and volunteering has a more soldier-like sound; so we who were to form the party immediately sold everything we possessed, and drank it with our comrades. This was the practice of many, for we knew what we had to do as soon as it was dark; and, if we escaped death, we might look upon it as a miracle; and thus were determined to enjoy life while we had it. This is a soldiers philosophy: enjoy all you have in your power; for what you leave after you fall you know not who will enjoy. I have eaten the last morsel of bread in my haversack going into action, and my comrades did the same, lest we might fall and another eat it. As soon as the hour arrived, we were at our post and formed, then marched on in dead silence towards the breach, headed by a captain and a lieutenant. I was on the right, and heard the lieutenant sob once or twice. The captain turned to him and said, in an under voice—
"'Return, if you are afraid.'
"'No,' replied the lieutenant, in a firm voice, though not much louder than a whisper, 'I am not afraid. I fear not danger, but will face it with any man in the British army; but, good God! my mother and sister——'"