'She is always sad and weary now, Sir Piers,' said Mrs. Garth one day; 'weary at night, and weary at morning, though she tries to conceal it, or deceive us, by occasional bursts of gaiety.' 'Poor little fool! Her mind is still running on that fellow whom I should never have brought to Eaglescraig. But, with all Hew's faults of temper and so forth, she had better think of him and my wishes, Mrs. Garth; so lead her up to it, for that is our _point d'appui_,' replied the general. 'By Jove!' said the amiable Hew, with one of his ugly grimaces, 'she has no more brains than a hen pheasant, I think, to sit as she does all day long looking like a sick monkey.' Meanwhile Hew was having no better success with his wooing, a fact which was the more perplexing and even harassing now, as he had resigned his Indian Civil Service appointment, and had no dependence, save upon the purse of Sir Piers, who, as the former grudgingly thought, seemed likely to live for ever; and who hoped, and indeed never doubted, that when Mary got over her girlish fancy for Cecil Falconer all things would come right in the end; and to change the scene, as the Edinburgh season was then in its flush, Sir Piers removed his entire household from Eaglescraig to his town residence at the west end of the grey metropolis of the north, a few days after Falconer's detachment had quitted the castle of Dumbarton. CHAPTER XVIII. THE CAMERONIANS. It was the morning after Cecil Falconer's detachment had come in to headquarters overnight. In the mess-room about a dozen officers in their blue patrol jackets, all more or less good-looking, even handsome young fellows, each and all having a certain joyous and straightforwardness of manner, were at breakfast, singly or in groups, and all greeted Falconer and Fotheringhame warmly, for both were prime favourites with the corps, and there was much shaking of hands and slapping on the back, with 'Welcome, old fellow!' 'How goes it?' and so forth, while an aroma of coffee and devilled bones pervaded the long room which had windows at each end, and where each officer seemed to be economising time, by reading during the meal, with a daily paper or comic serial--_Punch_, of course--propped against his coffee-pot or sugar-basin. All were discussing the repast in haste, as the hour of morning parade was close at hand. 'Here you are again, Falconer and Fotheringhame!' cried one; 'the Damon and Pythias--the David and Jonathan of the Cameronians! The very men we wanted; you have just come in time for the ball committee!' 'Heard the good news, Falconer, old fellow?' asked Dick Freeport. 'No--what is it? One of the three girls you proposed to accepted you?' said Falconer, leisurely tapping an egg. 'Ah, you've heard that story; nothing so stupid. But is it possible you don't know?' 'What?'