“Are there no colonies to this realm of England? What of the Indies--East and West? There’s a mort o’ them Indies, I know, whither officers are forever being dispatched. Who’d trouble about Randal’s name or story in one o’ they?” “Egad! ’Tis an idea!” The Duke looked at Holles, his glance brightening. “What should you say to it, Randal?” “Is there a post for me out there?” quoth the Colonel eagerly. “At this very moment, no. But vacancies occur. Men die in those outlandish parts, or weary of the life, or find the climate intolerable and return. There are risks, of course, and....” Holles cut in briskly. “I have said that I have lived on risks. And they’ll be less than those you represent as lying in wait for me here at home. Oh, I’ll take the risks. Right gladly I’ll take the risks. And I’ve little cause to be so wedded to the old world that I’d not exchange it for the new.” “Why, then, we’ll see. A little patience, and it may be mine to offer you some place abroad.” “Patience!” said Holles, his jaw fallen again. “Why, to be sure. After all, such posts do not grow like apples. Keep me informed of where you are lodged, and I will send you word when the occasion offers.” “And if he doesn’t send word soon do you come and see me again, Randal,” said her grace; “we’ll quicken him. He’s well enough; but he’s growing old, and his wits is sluggish.” And the great man, whose eye had daunted armies, smiled benignly upon his termagant. CHAPTER IV CHERRY BLOSSOMS Colonel Holles knelt on the window-seat at the open casement of his parlour at the Paul’s Head. Leaning on the sill, he seemed to contemplate the little sunlit garden with its two cherry trees on which some of those belated blossoms lingered still. Cherry blossoms he was contemplating, but not those before him. The two trees of this little oasis in the City of London had multiplied themselves into a cherry orchard set in Devon and in the years that were gone beyond reclaiming.