Should he consult Mrs. Garth, who seemed so kindly disposed towards him, or should he first seek the consent of Sir Piers? No; he felt very timid somehow, and shrunk from the too probable crushing refusal, or biting inquiry as to the settlements he could make, his family, and so forth; he thought that he would rather try his fate with Mary herself, and 'put it to the touch to win or lose it all!' He was already 'so far gone,' as Fotheringhame would have phrased it, that his happiness or misery was now simply the question. He made up his mind, or thought he did so, to declare his love to Mary, and he passed several hours in flattering, and anon in torturing himself by putting every imaginable construction on all that had ever passed between him and her, and between her and Hew, and all that the latter had said to him, suggested to him, and artfully led him to infer. Luncheon--or 'tiffin' as the general always named it--was over, when one day Cecil, his soul fraught with a declaration, rose to follow Mary, who had gone into the library to look after the last parcel of books from Edinburgh; but ere he could join her he was button-holed by the inevitable general, and the opportunity was lost--perhaps luckily so--who knows? 'One glass more of Lafitte ere you leave me, Falconer,' said Sir Piers; 'are you going to take your gun?' 'No; I walked too far after the birds yesterday, and have rather knocked myself up.' 'You are too young a soldier to say this, Falconer. Knocked up--by Jove, sir!' exclaimed Sir Piers. 'Precisely this day twenty years ago I too was knocked up, but it was not by tramping through covers. It happened thus, you see. We were on the march from the banks of the Chumbul in Malwah, and the rain was incessant--yes, as if the windows of heaven were opened again. I was escorting prisoners, with some native infantry, and had to push on without food or natural rest, and exposed the while to incessant attacks from the Bheels, a savage mountain banditti, who practise human sacrifices in secret, and who were artfully incited to mischief by Holkar; and there was the very devil to pay when we came to the Chumbul Nullah, a terrible torrent, swollen by the rains--no rice for the men, no grain for the horses, which left their shoes, when the nails declined to remain, in the mud. Heavy firing on all hands, the infernal Bheels with their matchlocks and jingals, and the elephants, under it all, trying to carry over the troops; when wounded the brutes became furious, shook prisoners and escort, soldiers' wives and soldiers' children, baggage, treasure, and everything out of the howdahs into the foaming torrent, and a horrible scene ensued--all who got ashore were massacred, save myself, and I only escaped by a perfect miracle. It happened this way, you see----'