CHAPTER XXI.
WHAT THE GAZETTE CONTAINED.
I had now served one campaign, though a short one; had seen the conclusion of another, ending in the total destruction of Cherbourg, and was on the eve of commencing a third, and yet found myself, despite all my day-dreams and lofty aspirations, unnoticed and unknown. I was graver now than before. It seemed to me that I had seen much of the world, and assuredly I had suffered much in the time that had elapsed between our landing at Cancalle Bay and the re-embarkation at Fort Galette.
We were now at Wadhurst, a secluded place in Sussex. On the morning after we joined, Colonel Preston sent for me to the orderly-room, where there ensued a conversation which caused some speculation in the regiment, where my incognito was still preserved. The secret of who I was, or what I should have been, was now known to Kirkton only, for poor Jack Charters, as I have already said, was in his soldier's grave among the ruins of Cherbourg, and the only relic I possessed of him was a pair of sleeve-links.
The bluff old colonel was standing with his spurred heels planted firmly on the hearthrug, and his hands behind his back, which was opposed to the fireplace, in the true orderly-room fashion, and he gave me a friendly nod as I entered.
"You are aware, of course, Gauntlet," said he, "that money to purchase a cornetcy has been lodged for you."
"With whom, sir?" I asked, in astonishment.
"The regimental agents, Messrs. Cox and Mair, of Craig's Court, London."
"By whom, colonel?"
"Your friends—you should know best."
"I have no friends—never had any," said I, bitterly.
"It was lodged two months since," resumed the colonel, "and gazetted you would have been ere this, but for our doubt about your fate, poor Captain Lindsay having sent your name to the War Office as missing."
I stood looking at the grave, kind, and soldierly old man with a stupified air.
My cousin Aurora must have done this—I was certain of it—for no one else in all the world knew of me, or cared for me; but I was too proud to accept of this donation even from her—from the usurper of my patrimony, for such I deemed her—and urged the colonel to write at once to the regimental agents, desiring them to return the money to the depositor thereof, whoever he or she might he.
I said this so haughtily, so bitterly, and peremptorily, and with such a flush on my cheek, that the adjutant and orderly-room clerks, who were fussing among docquets of papers and returns, looked up with surprise, and the old colonel, after carefully wiping a great pair of spectacles, put them on his copper-coloured nose, and surveyed me from head to foot with extreme coolness and curiosity.
"Zounds! Gauntlet," said he, "you are a very extraordinary fellow—very! Have you no wish to rise in the service?"
"By my own merit, sir, I have every wish, but not by the money—(of others, I was about to say, but added)—the money that should have been mine."
"Should—hum."
"I shall go to Germany with you, Colonel Preston, as a private trooper, and I care little if I never come back again."
"And you positively refuse this commission?"
"From an unknown donor, yes, colonel."
"Well, 'tis puzzling, but you know your own affairs best. I have the reputation of being the most eccentric old fellow in the service; henceforth you shall enjoy the reputation of being the most eccentric young one."
Old Preston gave me a kind of nod, as if to intimate that the interview was over, and resumed a conference with the farrier-sergeant concerning the re-shoeing of all the horses prior to embarkation, while I strolled forth into the barrack-yard to ponder over what had passed.
The news of this interview rapidly spread, and I was speedily joined by Tom Kirkton.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I like your spirit, Gauntlet; yet this seems to me—and it would have seemed to poor Jack, had he been here—the very acme of petulance and folly."
Selfishness and ambition struggled with pride. I was silent, for it seemed to me that never again might such a chance of being raised to my proper position occur to me, and already I half repented having scorned or refused the proffered gift, without inquiry. It was not too late to retract! I made one pace towards the orderly-room, but pride resumed its power, and I turned away.
"It must be the act of my cousin, Aurora Gauntlet," said I, "for I have not a relative on earth that I know of, Tom, but her."
"Does it not occur to you, most sapient sir, that your cousin might find it easier and more convenient to forget you—to ignore rather than to remember you, and do her utmost to be your friend?"
"True, Tom, but you cannot feel as I feel in this matter."
"And then, of course, it is not every dragoon who carries in his valise a diploma of baronetcy."
"These last words of yours, Kirkton, have cured me even of regret," said I, bitterly.
"Then I am sorry that they passed my lips. 'Oons man, why not make love to her?—there are worse matches in this world than a young and handsome cousin."
These words provoked only an angry smile, and the trumpet sounding for stable duty cut short the interview by hurrying us to look after the wants of our respective steeds.
So, according to my desire, Colonel Preston wrote to the agents, and the money was returned; but in the next War Office Gazette how great was the surprise of my comrades and myself when we read the following announcement—
"Scots Greys, Light Troop.—Lieut. Sholto Douglas to be captain, vice Lindsay, killed in action; Cornet James Keith to be Lieut., vice Douglas, promoted; Sir Basil Gauntlet, Bart., to be cornet, vice Keith."
"Sir Basil Gauntlet, Baronet!"
Had a loaded bomb of the greatest size exploded in the centre of the mess-room table it could scarcely have created so much speculation as this remarkable gazette did among the officers of his Majesty's Second Dragoons, of whom I thus found myself one.
Could I doubt that Aurora had done this? Could I be less than grateful that she—the only being who inherited the same name and blood, was determined not to forget me? Thus, finding that in my stubborn pride I declined the cornetcy by purchase, without further consultation she had resolved to drag me into my place by a commission without it.
As yet I knew not all this with certainty, and was too proud to write to Netherwood Hall; moreover, I knew not whether Aurora was there, though had I considered, the celerity with which the whole affair had been transacted should have convinced me that she was in the metropolis.
And thus I was an officer, an officer at last, and without having performed even the smallest of those superhuman acts of heroism of which I had drawn such dashing pictures in my day-dreams; without capturing standards sword-in-hand, without leading on furious charges, or disastrous forlorn hopes; made an officer simply through a note, written by a pretty girl's hand to some official source.
Thus was I promoted; my comrades congratulated me, and I felt a joyous certainty that their emotions were sincere, even those of the old grumblers and the "knowing ones," who at the outset of his career had fleeced poor Basil the recruit of his bounty at the Canteen and tavern.
The day of embarkation for Germany had not been named, but it was known to be drawing near: thus, with the extremely limited means at my disposal I had little else to think of than providing myself with a horse in addition to my trooper uniform and other et cetera befitting my rank. Those friendly and fatherly gentlemen of the race of Judah who hang about all barracks as the carrion crow and vulture in mid-air overhang a battle-field, were at hand to aid me for a "moderate consideration" in the way of thirty or forty per cent. interest, and the whole affair was soon done—all the sooner that old Colonel Preston was my friend.
In a week after my appointment (the rules of the service were not then what they were afterwards) I found myself on duty as an officer, and oddly enough it was that of a marine on board a frigate.