At this his face fairly flamed with pleasure, and he caught my hand in both his.
“Chevalier, I know you now. Maxwell of Kirkconnel! There is no man I would rather meet in this world than yourself.”
“I cannot make out a word of your jargon,” broke in M. de St. Julhien, “but you seem to understand each other. Barbarians, va! You are best left in charge of each other. You are on parole, remember, Captain Nairn—and you are on your honour as host, remember, Chevalier. Do not disgrace our reputation for hospitality. If your cellar be low, I have a bottle or two uncracked,” he cried, as he bowed and walked off, and we took our way to my quarters.
My heart was bursting for news of my dear Margaret, but these were the last tidings I could ask of a brother whose sister had cast him off. In ordinary courtesy I had to abandon my personal gratification and feign a lively interest in his adventures.
These, however, I have no intention of inflicting upon my reader. I have refrained from telling much of interest in connection with myself through a reticence which is, perhaps, blamable; and Captain Nairn, although relating a tale which bore every impress of truth, was bald in his manner, lacking that lively sensibility which is the charm of all cultivated narration, and, being unable to view any occurrence save from a personal stand, was utterly lacking in any sense of humour.
At length I felt I was justified in asking for tidings of her, who for me, stood first among all women.
“You are aware, Captain Nairn, that when with my cousin Lady Jane Drummond in London and Paris I saw much of your sister Margaret. I know of the unhappy resolution she took, on hearing of your acceptance of service under King George, but may I hope that it is dissipated ere now, and that you can give me news of her, for these hostilities have prevented all correspondence for near a year past?”
“No,” he answered, gravely; “my poor sister has never brought herself to forgive me, and I have never had word from her direct since I informed her of my resolve. I heard before sailing that Lady Jane had died early last year, leaving her well provided, and I should not be surprised to learn that she had taken the veil, as there was some disappointment in connection with the Vicomte de Trincardel, whom, I believe, she was to have married.”
And with this I had to be content, for Nairn was not a man of many words, and in any event his acquaintance with his sister, whom he had not seen since a child, was slight compared with mine.