"But, but," he went on, looking in front of him, "you must remember that although Granton and I were mere boys at the time our vow was made,--he was a Granton and I a Brammerton, whose vows are made to keep. It seems like yesterday, George; it was a few hours after he saved my life in the fighting before Sevastopol. We were sitting by the camp-fire. The chain-shot was still flying around. The cries of the wounded were in our ears. The sentries were challenging continually and drums were rolling in the distance. "I clasped Fred's hand and I thanked him for what he had done for me that day, right in the teeth of the Russian guns. "'Freddy, old chap, you're a trump,' I said, 'and, if ever I be blessed with an heir to Brammerton and Hazelmere, I would wish nothing better than that he should marry a Granton.' "'And nothing would please me so much, Harry, old boy,--as that a maid of Granton should wed a Brammerton,' he answered earnestly. "'Then it's a go,' said I, full of enthusiasm. "'It's a go, Harry.' "And we raised our winecups, such as they were. "'Your daughter, Fred!' "'Your heir, Harry!' "'The future Earl and Countess of Brammerton and Hazelmere,' we chimed together. "Our winecups clinked and the bond was made;--made for all time, George." My father's eyes lit up and he seemed to be back in the Crimea. He shook his head sadly. "And now, poor old Fred is gone. Ah, well! our dream is coming true. In a month, the maid of Granton weds the future Earl of Brammerton. "'Gad, George, my boy,--Rosemary may be skittish and lively, but were she the most mercurial woman in Christendom, she has never forgotten that she is first of all a Granton, and, as a Granton, she has kept a Granton's pledge." For a moment I caught the contagion of my father's earnestness. My eyes felt damp as I thought how important, after all, this union was to him. But, even then, I could not resist a little more questioning. "Does Harry love her, dad?" "Love her!" He smiled. "Why! my boy, he's madly in love with her." "Then, why doesn't he mend a bit? give over his mad chasing after,--to put it mildly,--continual excitement; and demonstrate that he is thoroughly in earnest. You know, falling madly in love is a habit of Harry's." "Don't you worry your serious head about that, George. You talk of Harry as if he were a baby. You talk as if you were his grandfather, instead of his younger brother and a mere boy." "Does Lady Rosemary love Harry?" I asked, ignoring his admonition. "Of course, she loves him. Why shouldn't she? He's a good fellow; well bred and well made; he is a soldier; he is in the swim; he has plenty to spend; he is the heir to Brammerton;--why shouldn't she love him? She is going to marry him, isn't she? She may not be of the gushing type, George, but she'll come to it all in good time. She will grow to love him, as every good wife does her husband. So, don't let that foolish head of yours give you any more trouble."