retorted Mariquita. "Hold your tongue."
"What! cross-grained and out of humour, sweetest? Come, sit here on my knee and listen, while I whisper some good news."
"Unless you address me more decently, Benito Villegas, I shall not speak to you at all."
"Good news! what then?" put in Tio Pedro, in a coaxing voice.
"My fortune is made. I have found powerful friends here upon the Rock. Within a few days now, through their help, I shall be part owner of la Hermandad Stable; and I can marry when I please."
"Fortunate girl!" said Tio Pedro, turning to Mariquita.
"It does not affect me," replied the girl, with chilling contempt. "Had you the wealth of the Indies, Benito Villegas, and a dukedom to offer, you should never call me yours."
Benito's face grew black as thunder at this unequivocal reply.
"Don't mind her, my son," said the old man. "She has lost her senses: the evil one has bitten her."
"Say, rather, one of those accursed red-coats," interposed his wife, "who has cast a spell over her. I thought I saw him at the garden just now. If I was only certain—"
"Silly girl, beware!" cried Benito, with bitter meaning. "I know him: hateful, despicable hound! He is only trifling with you. He cares nothing for you; you are not to his taste. What! He, a Northern pale-faced boor, choose you, with your dark skin and black hair! Never! I know better. Only to-day I saw him with the woman he prefers—a fair beauty light-complexioned like himself."
He had touched the Southern woman's most sensitive chord. Jealousy flashed from her eyes; a pang of painful doubt shot through her, though she calmly answered—
"It is not true."
"Ask him yourself. I tell you I saw them together: first near our stables, and then down by Waterport—a splendid woman!"
Waterport! McKay had told her he was returning from that part of the Rock. There was something in it, then. Was he playing her false? No. She would trust him still.
"I do not believe you, Benito. Such suspicions are worthy only of a place in your false, black heart!" and with these words Mariquita rushed away.
CHAPTER IX.
OFF TO THE WARS.
Next morning there was much stir and commotion in the South Barracks, where "lay" the Royal Picts—to use a soldier's phrase. The few words let drop by General Wilders, and overheard by Sergeant McKay, had been verified. "The route had come," and the regiment was under orders to join the expeditionary army in the East.
A splendid body, standing eight hundred strong on parade: strong, stalwart fellows, all of them, bronzed and bearded, admirably appointed, perfectly drilled—one of many such magnificent battalions, the flower of the British army, worthily maintaining the reputation of the finest infantry in the world.
Alas! that long years of peace should have rusted administrative machinery! That so many of these and other brave men should be sacrificed before the year was out for want of food, fuel, and clothing—the commonest supplies.
There seemed little need to improve a military machine so perfect at all its points. But the fastidious eye of Colonel Blythe, who commanded the Royal Picts, saw many blemishes in his regiment, and he was determined to make the most of the time still intervening before embarkation. Parades were perpetual; for the inspection of arms and accoutrements, for developing manual dexterity, and efficiency in drill. Still he was not satisfied.
"We must have a new sergeant-major," said the old martinet to his adjutant in the orderly-room.
The post was vacant for the moment through the promotion of its late holder to be quartermaster.
"Yes, sir; the sooner the better. The difficulty is to choose."
"I have been thinking it over, Smallfield, and have decided to promote Hyde. Send for him."
Colour-sergeant Hyde, erect, self-possessed—a pattern soldier in appearance and propriety—presently marched in and stood respectfully at "attention" before his superior.
"Sergeant Hyde!" said the colonel, abruptly, "I am going to make you a sergeant-major."
"Thank you, sir," said Hyde, saluting; "I had rather not take it."
"Heavens above!" cried the colonel, fiercely. He was of the old school, and used expletives freely. "You must be an idiot!"
"I am sensible, sir, of the honour you would do me, but—"
"Nonsense, man! I insist. I must have you."
"No, sir," said Hyde, firmly, "I must decline the honour."
"Was there ever such an extraordinary fellow? Why, man alive! it will reinstate you—"
"I must beg, sir," said Hyde, hastily interrupting, and looking with intention towards the adjutant.
"Yes, yes! I understand," said the colonel. "Leave us, Mr. Smallfield; I wish to speak to Sergeant Hyde alone."
"You have my secret, Colonel Blythe," said Hyde, when the adjutant had left the room, "but I have your promise."
"I was near forgetting it, I confess; but I was so upset, so put out, at your cursed obstinacy. Why will you persist in keeping in the background? Accept this promotion, and you shall have a commission before the year is out."
"I do not want a commission; I am perfectly happy as I am."
"Was there ever such a pig-headed fellow? Come, Hyde, be persuaded." The colonel got up from his seat and walked round to where the sergeant stood, still erect and motionless. "Come, Rupert, old comrade, old friend," and he put his hand affectionately on the sergeant's shoulder.
The muscles of the sergeant's face worked visibly.
"It's no use, Blythe; I am dead to the world. I have no desire to rise."
"But it's so aggravating; it puts me in such a hole," said the colonel, striding up and down the office. "You're just the man we want—superior in every way. You would hold your own so well with the other non-commissioned officers. I do wish—Where am I to find another?"
"I can tell you, if you will listen to my advice."
"Yes? Speak out."
"Young McKay; he would make an excellent sergeant-major."
"I know him—a smart, sensible, intelligent young fellow. But has he ballast—education?"
"He is better born than you or me, colonel. A lad of excellent parts and first-rate education. Bring him on, and he will do you and the regiment credit yet."
The colonel sat down again at his desk, and seemed lost in thought.
"I must ask Smallfield. Call in the adjutant, will you?" he added, in a voice that implied their conventional relations as superior officer and sergeant were resumed.
Half an hour later McKay was standing in Hyde's place, receiving the same offer, but accepting, although diffidently.
"I am not fit for the post, sir," he protested.
"That's my affair. I have selected you for reasons of my own, and the responsibility is mine."
"I will try my best, sir; that is all I can say."
"It's quite enough. Do your best, and you will satisfy me."
"I can't