And, to say the truth, her last hint about a broken leg was not altogether foreign to my own apprehensions. I had recollected of late, with no slight uneasiness, that for this sort of service a horse was quite as indispensable as a man; and, as already hinted, I had more than doubts as to my own equestrian capabilities. However, I comforted myself with the reflection, that out of the fifty or sixty yeomen whom I knew, not one had ever sustained any serious injury; and I resolved, as a further precaution against accident, to purvey me the very quietest horse that could be found anywhere. Steadiness, I have always understood, is the characteristic feature of the British cavalry.
My correspondence that morning was not of the legal kind. In the first place, I received a circular from the commanding-officer, extremely laudatory of the recruits, whose zeal for the service did them so much credit. We were called upon, in an animated address, to maintain the high character of the regiment—to prove ourselves worthy successors of those who had ridden and fought before us—to turn out regularly and punctually to the field, and to keep our accoutrements in order. Next came a more laconic and pithy epistle from the adjutant, announcing the hours of drill, and the different arrangements for the week; and finally, a communication from the convener of the mess committee.
To all these I cordially assented, and having nothing better to do, bethought me of a visit to the Bogles. I pictured to myself the surprise of Edith on beholding me in my novel character.
“She shall see,” thought I, “that years of dissipation in a barrack or guardroom are not necessary to qualify a high-minded legal practitioner for assuming his place in the ranks of the defenders of his country. She shall own that native valour is an impulse, not a science. She shall confess that the volunteer who becomes a soldier, simply because the commonwealth requires it, is actuated by a higher motive than the regular, with his prospects of pay and of promotion. What was Karl Theodore Körner, author of the Lyre and Sword, but a simple Saxon yeoman? and yet is there any name, Blucher’s not excepted, which stirs the military heart of Germany more thrillingly than his? And, upon my honour, even as a matter of taste, I infinitely prefer this blue uniform to the more dashing scarlet. It is true they might have given us tails to the jacket,” continued I soliloquising, as a young vagabond who passed, hazarded a contumelious remark regarding the symmetry of my nether person. “But, on the whole, it is a manly and a simple garb, and Edith cannot be such a fool as not to appreciate the motives which have led me to assume it.”
So saying, I rung the Bogles’ bell. Edith was in the drawing-room, and there also, to my no small mortification, was Lieutenant Roper. They were sitting together on the sofa, and I rather thought Miss Bogle started as I came in.
“Goodness gracious! Mr M’Whirter,” cried she with a giggle—Edith never looked well when she giggled—“What have you been doing with yourself?”
“I am not aware, Miss Bogle, that there is anything very extraordinary”——
“O dear, no! I beg your pardon for laughing, but really you look so funny! I have been so used, you know, to see you in a black coat, that the contrast is rather odd. Pray forgive my ignorance, Mr M’Whirter, but what is that dress?”
“The uniform of the Mid-Lothian Yeomanry Cavalry, madam. We are going into quarters next week.”
“How very nice! Do you know it is one of the prettiest jackets I ever saw? Don’t you think so, Mr Roper?”