“Why—why, what should I marry her for?” stammered the Major.
“Oh, Lord!” said Garry, “here will be pleasant news for her! Curse me if I break it to her.”
“But really now, Frank,” the Major repeated—“marriage, you know—why, I never thought of such a thing.”
“You’re the only person that hasn’t, then,” rejoined Owen. “Why, what can the garrison think, after the way you smuggled her in; what can she herself think, after all your attentions?”
“Attentions, my dear boy;—the merest civility.”
“Oh,—ah! ’twas civility, I suppose, to squeeze her hand in the inn at Algeçiras, in the way she told Juana of—and heaven knows what else you may have done during the flight. Juana is outrageous against you—actually called you a vile deceiver; but Carlota’s feeling is more of sorrow than of anger. She is persuaded that nothing but your ignorance of Spanish has prevented your tongue from confirming what your looks have so faithfully promised. I was really quite affected to-day at the appealing look she cast on me after you left the room; she evidently expected me to communicate her destiny.”
My grandfather smoked hard.
“Lots of fellows would give their ears for such a wife,” pursued the Ensign. “Lovelace, the Governor’s aide-de-camp, bribed the waiter of the hotel to lend him his apron to-day, at dinner, that he might come in and look at her—swears she’s a splendid woman, and that he’d run away with such another to-morrow.”
Still my grandfather smoked hard, but said nothing, though there was a slight gleam of pride in his countenance.
“Poor thing!” sighed Garry. “All her prospects blighted for ever. Swears she never can love another.”