On discovering that he was thus honoured by having a baronet to guard his door, Winram obtained Innes a commission, and gave him in marriage his only daughter and heiress, Margery. I thought I would strive to be like him, and until the lucky spoke of Fortune's wheel turned upmost, I would relinquish, save in my secret heart, all pride of birth or position of family, and the past, and forget too the important monosyllable, of which my unnatural grandfather had left nothing undone to deprive me. This was a brilliant bit of romance, no doubt, but unlike Winram, poor old Colonel Preston had no inheritance save his sword and his quaint uniform; and no beautiful daughter to bestow. I had no former friends to recognise me, and bring about a striking denouement, so I might be sentinel at his door for a hundred years before he could befriend me as Sir Robert Innes was befriended by Colonel Winram. As a supplement to the notice I had seen, next day on parade the trumpet-major of the Light Horse, who usually acted as our postman, handed me a large thick letter. It bore the Berwick postmark, and was addressed in the familiar handwriting of Mr. Nathan Wylie. My heart sprang to my lips, but I had only time to thrust the missive into one of my holsters, for the trumpets sounded to "fall in" and I was kept in an agony of suspense and anxiety to learn the contents--which seemed rather bulky--during the whole of a long and tedious morning parade, with its subsequent drill on the common. What could this letter be about, what its contents? Money? It seemed too hard for bank-notes. Was it about Ruth--poor little Ruth whose soft image now rose so upbraidingly before me; for sooth to say, in the hurly-burly of camp and quarters, I had quite forgotten her. The moment parade and drill were over, I rushed away to a quiet nook, and tore the packet open. It contained a letter from Nathan Wylie, short, dry, and professional, together with an old parchment, snuff-coloured by time. It briefly stated that in his last will and testament, my respected grandfather had cut me off with the sum of one shilling sterling, which the writer herein inclosed, together with a document which he sent, doubtless as a taunt upon my private's uniform--the diploma of the Netherwood baronetcy. CHAPTER X. THE FRENCH DESERTERS. Lord Anson, Vice-Admiral of the Red, having put to sea with seventeen sail of the line (one of these was the hapless _Royal George_, which afterwards sunk in Portsmouth harbour), and several frigates, with some smaller craft, to block up Brest, and favour the descent to be made on the French coast, our expedition was prepared with great rapidity, and Charles Spencer, Earl of Sunderland, who had lately succeeded to the Dukedom of Marlborough, arrived in camp, to take command of the troops.