Description

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Regularly once a week they rode out in marching order.Returning up the town on one of these occasions, the romantic pelisse flapping behind each horseman's shoulder in the soft south-west wind, Captain Maumbry glanced up at the oriel. A mutual nod was exchanged between him and the person who sat there reading. The reader and a friend in the room with him followed the troop with their eyes all the way up the street, till, when the soldiers were opposite the house in which Laura lived, that young lady became discernible in the balcony.'They are engaged to be married, I hear, ' said the friend.'Who-Maumbry and Laura? Never-so soon?''Yes.''He'll never marry. Several girls have been mentioned in connection with his name. I am sorry for Laura.''Oh, but you needn't be. They are excellently matched.''She's only one more.