Whenever we
can't account for a thing, we Scots are inclined to believe it's
supernatural.
"Now tell me more about the affair, Malcolm. By the way do you
know that you are a lieutenant now? Poor Foulis died of the fever
a few days after you left us, and as the king had himself ordered
that you were to have the next vacancy, I of course appointed you
at once. We must drink tonight to your promotion."
Malcolm now related fully the incidents of the siege.
"By my faith, Malcolm Graheme," Munro said when he had finished,
"you are as lucky as you are brave. Mansfeld is a powerful nobleman,
and has large possessions in various parts of Germany and much
influence, and the king will be grateful that you have thus rendered
him such effective assistance and so bound him to our cause. I
believe he has no children."
"He has a daughter," Malcolm said, "a pretty little maid some
fourteen years old."
"In faith, Malcolm, 'tis a pity that you and she are not some four
or five years older. What a match it would be for you, the heiress
of Mansfeld; she would be a catch indeed! Well, there's time enough
yet, my lad, for there is no saying how long this war will last."
There was a general laugh, and the colonel continued:
"Malcolm has the grace to colour, which I am afraid the rest of us
have lost long ago. Never mind, Malcolm, there are plenty of Scotch
cadets have mended their fortune by means of a rich heiress before
now, and I hope there will be many more.
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