Under the Red Dragon: A Novel

the Martens' dingle and by the old rocking-stone--were married in Craigaderyn Church, by her secret admirer, the tall pale curate in the long, long coat, "assisted" by another (as if aid in such cases were necessary); and amid the summer sounds that came floating through the open porch and pointed windows, with the yellow flakes of hazy sunshine, when I heard the voice of the pastor uniting us, I remembered the Sunday we were all last in the same place, and the daydreams in which I had indulged during the prosy sermon, when I fancied the same solemn service being said, and when, by some magic, the image of Winifred _would_ ever come in the place of another. Sir Watkins Vaughan, a purpose-like and gentlemanly young fellow, a prime bat and bowler, a good shot and good horseman, a thorough Englishman and lover of all field sports, and who acted as my groomsman, was so intent on looking at Dora--radiant in white crape and tulle as one of her sister's bridesmaids--that he made, as he said, "a regular mull" of drawing off my glove, an office which I could not have done for myself. At last the whole was over; the golden hoop had been slid on the slender figure of a tremulous little hand; we were made one "till death do us part;" and after the usual kisses and congratulations, came forth into the glorious sunshine, while overhead the marriage chimes rang merrily in the old square tower which Jorwerth ap Davydd Lloyd had founded in honour of St. David five hundred years ago. Then came the cheers in the churchyard--cheers that might wake the dead below the green turf; the guttural Celtic voices of the tenants and peasantry, the general jollity, with much twangle-dangling of harps borne by certain itinerant and tipsy bards, attracted thither by the coin and the well-known Cymric proclivities of Sir Madoc; and loud on all hands were praises of the beauty of the _Briodasferch_ (Welsh euphony for bride), with prayers for her future happiness, as we drove away to luncheon. All the household held high festival. Owen Gwyllim wept in his glee, and drank our healths in mulled port with Mrs. Davis (for whom he had a tenderness) in her room; and Bob Spurrit and Morgan Roots, and all the valets and gamekeepers, did ditto with mulled ale in the "servants' 'all," while we, leaving all to feast and speechify at Craigaderyn, were speeding, as fast as four horses could take us, to hide our blushes at Brighton. . . . After the stormy life I had led how sweet and blessed were home-rest with Winifred! No tempests of thought, of pique or jealousy, of disappointment or bitterness, agitated me now. It was all like first love, and calmly as the summer gloaming among the mountains, the joyous time glided away with us. I felt how truly she had clung to me, and loved me as only those who have long been loved in secret, and whose value, to the heart at least, has been ascertained, by having been to all appearance lost in life, and lost in death, too--for had I not been so to her?--and been mourned for as only the dead, who can return no more, are mourned. Yet I had survived all the perils of war, and her arms were round me now. How strange it seemed, that I should once have been so indifferent to all the graces of her mind and person; that I had been wont to quiz poor Caradoc about her, and had more than once actually suggested that he should "propose;" and so, when I looked into her tender and loving eyes, I recalled her words on that day when, on a time that seemed so long ago, we had a ramble by the rocking-stone, and when she said, "the eye may be pleased, the vanity flattered, and ambition excited by a woman of beauty, especially if she is one of rank; yet the heart may be won by one her inferior." But I considered my little wife inferior to none and second to none. After all my wild work in the field and trenches, there was something wonderfully refreshing, bewitching, and attractive in having her hovering and gliding about me, and all her sweet companionship; and it was _so_ delightful and novel to have those quick and white and fairy-like fingers to adjust one's necktie, to settle one's collar, and give, perhaps, just a finishing touch with a carved ivory brush to the back-parting of one's hair. It _had_ seemed odd to me, at first, those bracelets, tiny rings, and hair-pins at times on my toilet table; and equally odd to her my collars, ties, studs, and razors sometimes left on hers; and we were laughing and chatting merrily of this community in matters one lovely morning at Brighton, when the sun was shining on the sea, that was dotted by a thousand pleasure-boats, and was all rippling in golden light from the snow-white cliffs of Beachy Head to Selsea Bill, and while the merry voices of children came pleasantly on the warm air from the Marine Parade, as we were seated at breakfast with the hotel windows open. Winifred was looking as only a young bride in her first bloom can look. She was more radiant than she had ever seemed even at Craigaderyn; and through the frills of her morning dress, a marvel of white lace and millinery, her slender throat and delicate arms, without necklet or bracelet, were seen to perfection, and I thought she never seemed so charming, as she sat smiling at me over the silver urn. Thus one quite forgot the fragrant coffee, the French rolls that lay cosily hidden in the damask napkin, the dainty fresh eggs, the game-pie, the ham done up in Madeira, and as for the well-aired morning papers, they were never thought of at all. On the morning in question my valet, Lance-corporal Mulligan, entered the room with our letters on a salver. I had picked up the poor fellow by the merest chance one night at the Brighton Theatre, where he had been receiving, as a super and sham soldier in a suit of tin armour, one shilling per night, exactly what he got from her Majesty's most liberal government for risking his life night and day as a real one; and so, minus an eye, he had betaken himself, after fighting at Alma and storming the Redan, to figuring at the Battle of Bosworth and marching to Dunsinane. So he came to me gladly, while his Biddy and a chubby Pat, born under canvas among the tents of the Connaught Rangers, were snugly located in one of the gate-lodges at Craigaderyn. Erect as a pike he marched up to the table and laid the letters before Winny, all save one, which he handed to me. It was oblong, official, and inscribed "On her Majesty's Service," words at the sight of which his solitary eye brightened, while he regarded them with respect, as an Osmanli might the cipher of the Sultan; and then he stood at "attention," lingering by, napkin in hand, to hear what the contents were. They were, as usual in such communications from the Horse Guards, very brief, but not the less gratifying. The Military Secretary had the honour to inform me that her Majesty had been graciously pleased to signify her intention of conferring the new order of merit, entitled the Victoria Cross, on certain officers, seamen, and soldiers, for acts of bravery during the late war; that my name was on the list for it, on the recommendation of Brigadier-general Windham, as a reward for volunteering with the ladder party at the storming and capture of the Redan on the 8th September; and that my presence was required at a parade before her Majesty, on a certain day named. "That is all, Mulligan--you may go," said I, and he wheeled about sharply, as if on a pivot, and stalked out; while Winny kissed me, ran her white fingers caressingly through my hair, her face beaming with delight. "But, Winny, by Jove, I've done nothing to deserve this. I only tumbled into an embrasure of the Redan, to be tumbled out again," said I; "and I got jambed among the dead." "Nothing, darling--do you call that nothing?" she exclaimed. "O, this is indeed delightful--a real decoration! How proud I am of you! and yet--and yet--I am loth to leave Brighton for town. We are so happy here; we have been so jolly, Harry." "But, Winny, we shall return; we have 'done' the pier, the parade, and the pavilion, again and again." "Have you wearied?" "When with _you!_" "And I with you, Harry! But I am so happy that I fear at times such happiness cannot last." "Town will be a pleasant change for a time; and then the spectacle in the Park will be most brilliant, and--all the world of fashion will be there." "And one, perhaps, whom--I don't wish to see," said she, pouting. "One--who?" "Lady Aberconway will be there, no doubt," she replied, with a little nervous laugh. "What of that, in the world of London? And what now is Es--the Marchioness of Aberconway, or Aber-anything-else, to me, Winny, darling?" "Nothing now, of course--but--but--" "But what?" "I cannot forget that she _has been_ something to you." "Never what you are now," said I, clasping her to my breast with one arm, and kissing her on the eyes and hair. "You pet me too much, Harry, and I fear will quite spoil me," said she, laughing merrily again. "Who could live with you and not pet you? Would you have me to wrap myself up in a toga, a mantle of marital dignity, and remain solemnly on a pedestal like an armless statue, for my little wife to worship? But there was something in one of your letters that made you laugh?" "It is from Dora." "And her news?" "Is that she has accepted Vaughan." "I am so glad to hear it! Then we shall have another marriage, and more feasting and harping at Craigaderyn?" "Yes; about the middle of August, or after the grouse-shooting begins, as dear papa would date it." CHAPTER LXI.--"FOR VALOUR." It was in the height of the gay London season that this interesting ceremony, which formed the last scene connected with the Crimean War--the last chapter in its glorious yet melancholy history--was to be closed under the auspices of Royalty on a day in June, when the air was clear, bright, and sunny, the sky without a cloud. The place selected for the celebration, though perhaps not the most suitable in London, was appropriate enough, by its local and historical associations; and Hyde Park seemed beautiful and stirring when viewed through the mellow haze of the midsummer morning, with its long rows of trees and far expanse of green grass, on which the masses of cavalry and infantry, chiefly of the Household Brigade, were ranged, their arms and gay appointments flashing and glittering in the sun, and the mighty assemblage of fashionables, in splendid carriages, on horseback, or on foot--such an assemblage as London alone can produce--with the bronze Achilles, the trophy of another and far more glorious war, towering over all. There were present not less than a hundred thousand of the sight-loving Londoners, full of generous enthusiasm. A grand review formed a portion of the programme; but as such displays are all alike, I shall skip that part of the day's proceedings; though there were present the 79th Highlanders, whom I had last seen in the trenches before the Redan, preparing for the final assault at daybreak; the 19th, that with the 23rd went side by side in the uphill charge at Alma; the showy 11th Hussars in blue with scarlet pelisses, who had ridden in the terrible death ride at Balaclava; and with glittering brass helmets the gallant Enniskillens, who, with the Greys, had followed Scarlett in the task of avenging them. And there, too, commanding the whole, in his plumed bonnet and tartan trews, was old Colin Campbell, riding as quietly and as grimly, amid the youth, rank, and beauty of London, as when he brought his Highland Brigade in stately échelon of regiments along the green slopes of the Kourgané Hill, and heard the gray Kazan columns, ere they fled, send up their