Only an Ensign: A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul, Volume 1 (of 3)Grant, James
General
Only an Ensign: A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul, Volume 1 (of 3)
Grant, James
Afghan Wars -- Fiction
Audley was now in that delightful state of the tender passion, when
to see even the skirt, to hear the voice or to breathe the same
atmosphere, with its object, had a charm; then how much greater was
the joy of having her all to himself, and to feel that too probably,
she owed her life to him!
"You do not--do not--love--" she faltered and paused.
"Whom?"
"Rose Trecarrel?"
"I love but you, and I bless God for the opportunity given me for
testifying that love, by serving and saving you--Sybil--dear Sybil
for so let me call you now and for ever."
"What the deuce _are_ you about, Trevelyan? Do you mean to stay down
there all night--or is the lady ill? That dreary hole can be neither
romantic nor pleasant, I should fancy."
It was the voice of the General hailing him now.
"Here we come, sir," replied Audley, as he fastened the rope cradle
securely round his body and courageously took Sybil in his arms. It
was no doubt delightful to hold her in an embrace so close, and to
feel her clinging to him, but a thrill of intense anxiety passed over
all his nerves, and it seemed as if the hair of his head bristled up,
when he found himself swinging at the end of a rope over that
dreadful abyss, down which the lantern, as it chanced to fall from
his hand, vanished as if into the bowels of the earth, for the lower
level of that old mine, was far below the sea. As for poor Sybil,
she felt only a terror that amounted to a species of torpor--a
numbness of all sense.
"Now pull together, my booys!" cried the cheerful voice of Michael
Treherne, "one, two--one, two--_ho_ and here they come out of the
_knacked bal_!" for so the Cornish miners designate an abandoned
mine, as it is among his class, and in the mines, that words of the
old language linger.
And in less than a minute, Audley and Sybil were at the surface and
in the grasp of strong hands that placed them safely on terra firma,
when, overcome by all she had endured, the former immediately fainted.
"The poor child is as wet as a _quilquin_" (a frog), said Treherne
with commiseration.
"She requires instant attention," said the General kindly; "let her
own servants take her at once to your cottage, Treherne, as it is the
nearest place in this stormy night. See to this, Audley, while I
hurry down to Porthellick and relieve the anxiety of her mother.
Give orders to have the carriage sent there for her. By the way,
Audley, is not this the girl that Rose chaffs you about?"
"The same, sir," replied Trevelyan, whose heightened colour was
unseen in the dark.
"How strange! Rose is such a quiz, you will never hear the end of
this."
"She is the daughter of an officer--a Captain Devereaux."
"I have never met him--of what corps?"
"I don't know."
"To Mike's cottage with her, and lose no time. Here my lads, all of
you go to Trevanion's Tavern, and score to me what you drink. The
night is rough and wet."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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