the mean time we may depend upon it, _Trim_, for our comfort, said my
uncle _Toby_, that God Almighty is so good and just a governor of the
world, that if we have but done our duties in it,—it will never be
enquired into, whether we have done them in a red coat or a black
one:——I hope not, said the corporal——But go on, _Trim_, said my uncle
_Toby_, with thy story.
When I went up, continued the corporal, into the lieutenant’s room,
which I did not do till the expiration of the ten minutes,—he was lying
in his bed with his head raised upon his hand, with his elbow upon the
pillow, and a clean white cambrick handkerchief beside it:——The youth
was just stooping down to take up the cushion, upon which I supposed he
had been kneeling,—the book was laid upon the bed,—and, as he rose, in
taking up the cushion with one hand, he reached out his other to take
it away at the same time.——Let it remain there, my dear, said the
lieutenant.
He did not offer to speak to me, till I had walked up close to his bed-
side:—If you are captain _Shandy_’s servant, said he, you must present
my thanks to your master, with my little boy’s thanks along with them,
for his courtesy to me;—if he was of _Levens_’s—said the lieutenant.—I
told him your honour was—Then, said he, I served three campaigns with
him in _Flanders_, and remember him,—but ’tis most likely, as I had not
the honour of any acquaintance with him, that he knows nothing of
me.——You will tell him, however, that the person his good-nature has
laid under obligations to him, is one _Le Fever_, a lieutenant in
_Angus_’s——but he knows me not,—said he, a second time,
musing;——possibly he may my story—added he—pray tell the captain, I was
the ensign at _Breda_, whose wife was most unfortunately killed with a
musket-shot, as she lay in my arms in my tent.——I remember the story,
an’t please your honour, said I, very well.——Do you so? said he, wiping
his eyes with his handkerchief—then well may I.—In saying this, he drew
a little ring out of his bosom, which seemed tied with a black ribband
about his neck, and kiss’d it twice——Here, _Billy_, said he,—the boy
flew across the room to the bed-side,—and falling down upon his knee,
took the ring in his hand, and kissed it too,—then kissed his father,
and sat down upon the bed and wept.
I wish, said my uncle _Toby_, with a deep sigh,—I wish, _Trim_, I was
asleep.
Your honour, replied the corporal, is too much concerned;—shall I pour
your honour out a glass of sack to your pipe?——Do, _Trim_, said my
uncle _Toby._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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