“Not a bit of it! Good-looking enough he is, but, only a boy; at the same time, a devilish bold one! And he’d think no more of springing through that window and throwing his arms round your neck, the very first moment of his arrival, than I should of whispering how much I love you.” “How very odd he must be! I’m sure I should like him.” “Many thanks to both for your kind hints; and now to take advantage of them.” So saying, I stepped lightly upon the window-sill, cleared the miller with one spring, and before Power could recover his legs or Margeritta her astonishment, I clasped her in my arms, and kissed her on either cheek. “Charley! Charley! Damn it, man, it won’t do!” cried Fred; while the young lady, evidently more amused at his discomfiture than affronted at the liberty, threw herself into a seat, and laughed immoderately. “Ha! Hilloa there! What is’t?” shouted the miller, rousing himself from his nap, and looking eagerly round. “Are they coming? Are the French coming?” A hearty renewal of his daughter’s laughter was the only reply; while Power relieved his anxiety by saying,-- “No, no, Pedrillo, not the French; a mere marauding party,--nothing more. I say, Charley,” continued he, in a lower tone, “you had better lose no time in reporting yourself at headquarters. We’ll walk up together. Devilish awkward scrape, yours.” “Never fear, Fred; time enough for all that. For the present, if you permit me, I’ll follow up my acquaintance with our fair friend here.” “Gently, gently!” said he, with a look of most imposing seriousness. “Don’t mistake her; she’s not a mere country girl: you understand?--been bred in a convent here,--rather superior kind of thing.” “Come, come, Fred, I’m not the man to interfere with you for a moment.” “Good-night, Senhor,” said the old miller, who had been waiting patiently all this time to pay his respects before going. “Yes, that’s it!” cried Power, eagerly. “Good-night, Pedrillo.” “_Buonos noches_,” lisped out Margeritta, with a slight curtsy. I sprang forward to acknowledge her salutation, when Power coolly interposed between us, and closing the door after them, placed his back against it. “Master Charley, I must read you a lesson--” “You inveterate hypocrite, don’t attempt this nonsense with _me_. But come, tell me how long you have been here?” “Just twenty-four of the shortest hours I ever passed at an outpost. But listen,--do you know that voice? Isn’t it O’Shaughnessy?” “To be sure it is. Hear the fellow’s song.” “My father cared little for shot or shell, He laughed at death and dangers; And he’d storm the very gates of hell With a company of the ‘Rangers.’ So sing tow, row, row, row, row,” etc.