Part 5 (1/2)
The bond of union was still further strengthened by the fact that, while the comparatively learned Miles was enthusiastic and communicative, the unlettered Armstrong was inquisitive and receptive, fond of prying into the nature of things, and always ready as well as competent to discuss-- not merely to _argue_. Observe the distinction, good reader.
Discussion means the shaking of any subject into its component parts with a desire to understand it. Argument has come very much to signify the enravelment of any subject with a view to the confusion and conquest of an opponent. Both young men abhorred the latter and liked the former. Hence much of their harmony and friends.h.i.+p.
”Will you come with me up town?” said Armstrong to Miles one day, as he was about to quit the barrack-room. ”I'm going to see if there's any news of my Emmy.”
”I did not know you expected her,” said Miles. ”Come along, I'm ready.”
”I don't expect her yet,” returned Armstrong, as they left the barracks; ”I only look for a letter, because it was on Wednesday that I wrote telling her of my going to Egypt, and she can scarce have had time to get ready to come down, poor girl! In fact I am going to engage a room for her. By the way, I heard this morning that there's to be another draft for Egypt, so you'll have a chance to go.”
”I'm rejoiced to hear it,” returned Miles; ”for, to say the truth, I had been growing envious of your good fortune in being ordered on active service.”
”Hooroo, Armstrong, where away now?” cried an unmistakably Irish voice, as a smart little soldier crossed the street to them, and was introduced to Miles as Corporal Flynn, belonging to another company in his own regiment.
”My blissin' on ye, Miles. John, is it?”
”Yes, John,” replied our hero, much amused at the free-and-easy address of the little corporal.
”Well, John Miles,” he said, ”I don't know whether ye'll laugh or cry whin I tell ye that you'll likely be warned this evenin' for the draft that's goin' to Aigypt.”
”I certainly won't cry,” returned Miles, with a laugh. Yet the news brought a sudden feeling into his breast which was strongly allied to the opposite of laughter, for the thought of parting from father and mother without bidding them farewell fell upon his spirit with crus.h.i.+ng weight; but, like too many men who know they are about to do wrong, Miles hardened his heart with the delusive argument that, having fairly taken the step, it was impossible for him now to retrace it. He knew-- at least he thought--that there was still the possibility of being bought off, and that his stern father would only be too glad to help him. He also knew that at least he had time to write and let them know his circ.u.mstances, so that they might run down to Portsmouth and bid him good-bye; but he had taken the bit in his teeth, and now he resolved to abide the consequences.
Turning from his companions while they conversed, he looked into a shop-window.
”Your chum's in the blues,” said the lively corporal, in a lower voice.
”Young fellows are often in that state after joining, ain't they?”
returned Armstrong.
”True for ye--an' more shame to them, whin they ought to be as proud as payc.o.c.ks at wearin' her gracious Majesty's uniform. But good luck to 'ee! I must be off, for I'm bound for Aigypt mesilf.”
”I am glad that I shall have the chance of seeing your wife, for I've been much interested in her since your friend Sergeant Gilroy told me about her,” said Miles, as they resumed their walk. ”Surely it is hard of them to refuse to let her go with the regiment.”
”Well, it _is_ hard,” returned the young soldier; ”but after all I cannot find fault with the powers that be, for I married with my eyes open. I knew the rule that those who marry without leave must leave their wives at home, for only a certain number of families can go abroad with a regiment--and that only in peace-time.”
”It might have been well,” continued Armstrong, slowly, while a sad expression clouded his face for a few moments, ”if I had waited, and many a time has my conscience smitten me for my haste. But what could I do? Emmy most unaccountably fell in love wi' me--_thank G.o.d_! for I do think that the greatest earthly blessing that can be given to mortal man is the love of a gentle, true-hearted girl. The wealth of the Indies cannot purchase that, and nothing else in life can supply the want of it. Can you wonder that I grasped the treasure when within my reach?”
”I certainly cannot; and as certainly I do not blame you,” returned the sympathetic Miles.
”Of course I fell in love with Emmy,” continued the soldier, with a slightly confused look. ”I could no more help that than I could help growing up. Could I?”
”Certainly not,” said Miles.
”Well, you see,” continued his friend, ”as the affair was arranged in heaven, according to general belief, what was I that I should resist?
You see, Emmy's father, who's a well-to-do farmer, was willing, and we never gave a thought to Egypt or the war at the time. She will be well looked after while I'm away, and I'll send her every penny of my pay that I can spare, but--”
He stopped abruptly, and Miles, respecting his feelings, remarked, by way of changing the subject, that, the pay of a private soldier being so small, very little could be saved out of that.
”Not much,” a.s.sented his comrade; ”but, little as it is, we can increase it in various ways. For one thing, I have given up smoking. That will save a little; though, to say truth, I have never expended much on baccy. Then I have joined Miss Robinson's Temperance Band--”
”Strange how often that lady's name has been in my ears since I came to Portsmouth!” said Miles.