XLI. JOHN MARCHES INTO THE NIGHT
During this exciting time John Loveday seldom or never appeared at
the mill. With the recall of Bob, in which he had been sole agent,
his mission seemed to be complete.
One mid-day, before Anne had made any change in her manner of living
on account of her unexpected acquisition, Lieutenant Bob came in
rather suddenly. He had been to Budmouth, and announced to the
arrested senses of the family that the --th Dragoons were ordered to
join Sir Arthur Wellesley in the Peninsula.
These tidings produced a great impression on the household. John
had been so long in the neighbourhood, either at camp or in
barracks, that they had almost forgotten the possibility of his
being sent away; and they now began to reflect upon the singular
infrequency of his calls since his brother's return. There was not
much time, however, for reflection, if they wished to make the most
of John's farewell visit, which was to be paid the same evening, the
departure of the regiment being fixed for next day. A hurried
valedictory supper was prepared during the afternoon, and shortly
afterwards John arrived.
He seemed to be more thoughtful and a trifle paler than of old, but
beyond these traces, which might have been due to the natural wear
and tear of time, he showed no signs of gloom. On his way through
the town that morning a curious little incident had occurred to him.
He was walking past one of the churches when a wedding-party came
forth, the bride and bridegroom being Matilda and Festus Derriman.
At sight of the trumpet-major the yeoman had glared triumphantly;
Matilda, on her part, had winked at him slily, as much as to say--.
But what she meant heaven knows: the trumpet-major did not trouble
himself to think, and passed on without returning the mark of
confidence with which she had favoured him.
Soon after John's arrival at the mill several of his friends dropped
in for the same purpose of bidding adieu. They were mostly the men
who had been entertained there on the occasion of the regiment's
advent on the down, when Anne and her mother were coaxed in to grace
the party by their superior presence; and their well-trained,
gallant manners were such as to make them interesting visitors now
as at all times. For it was a period when romance had not so
greatly faded out of military life as it has done in these days of
short service, heterogeneous mixing, and transient campaigns; when
the esprit de corps was strong, and long experience stamped
noteworthy professional characteristics even on rank and file; while
the miller's visitors had the additional advantage of being picked
men.
They could not stay so long to-night as on that earlier and more
cheerful occasion, and the final adieus were spoken at an early
hour. It was no mere playing at departure, as when they had gone to
Exonbury barracks, and there was a warm and prolonged shaking of
hands all round.
'You'll wish the poor fellows good-bye?' said Bob to Anne, who had
not come forward for that purpose like the rest. 'They are going
away, and would like to have your good word.'
She then shyly advanced, and every man felt that he must make some
pretty speech as he shook her by the hand.
'Good-bye! May you remember us as long as it makes ye happy, and
forget us as soon as it makes ye sad,' said Sergeant Brett.
'Good-night! Health, wealth, and long life to ye!' said
Sergeant-major Wills, taking her hand from Brett.
'I trust to meet ye again as the wife of a worthy man,' said
Trumpeter Buck.
'We'll drink your health throughout the campaign, and so good-bye
t'ye,' said Saddler-sergeant Jones, raising her hand to his lips.
Three others followed with similar remarks, to each of which Anne
blushingly replied as well as she could, wishing them a prosperous
voyage, easy conquest, and a speedy return.
But, alas, for that! Battles and skirmishes, advances and retreats,
fevers and fatigues, told hard on Anne's gallant friends in the
coming time. Of the seven upon whom these wishes were bestowed,
five, including the trumpet-major, were dead men within the few
following years, and their bones left to moulder in the land of
their campaigns.
John lingered behind. When the others were outside, expressing a
final farewell to his father, Bob, and Mrs. Loveday, he came to
Anne, who remained within.
'But I thought you were going to look in again before leaving?' she
said gently.
'No; I find I cannot. Good-bye!'
'John,' said Anne, holding his right hand in both hers, 'I must tell
you something. You were wise in not taking me at my word that day.
I was greatly mistaken about myself. Gratitude is not love, though
I wanted to make it so for the time. You don't call me thoughtless
for what I did?'
'My dear Anne,' cried John, with more gaiety than truthfulness,
'don't let yourself be troubled! What happens is for the best.
Soldiers love here to-day and there to-morrow. Who knows that you
won't hear of my attentions to some Spanish maid before a month is
gone by? 'Tis the way of us, you know; a soldier's heart is not
worth a week's purchase--ha, ha! Goodbye, good-bye!'
Anne felt the expediency of his manner, received the affectation as
real, and smiled her reply, not knowing that the adieu was for
evermore. Then with a tear in his eye he went out of the door,
where he bade farewell to the miller, Mrs. Loveday, and Bob, who
said at parting, 'It's all right, Jack, my dear fellow. After a
coaxing that would have been enough to win three ordinary
Englishwomen, five French, and ten Mulotters, she has to-day agreed
to bestow her hand upon me at the end of six months. Good-bye,
Jack, good-bye!'
The candle held by his father shed its waving light upon John's face
and uniform as with a farewell smile he turned on the doorstone,
backed by the black night; and in another moment he had plunged into
the darkness, the ring of his smart step dying away upon the bridge
as he joined his companions-in-arms, and went off to blow his
trumpet till silenced for ever upon one of the bloody battle-fields
of Spain.
