"
McKay disdained to notice these threats, and, after waiting a little
longer in the hope of again seeing Mariquita, he left the house.
It was his misfortune, however, not to get speech with her again
before his departure. The few short days intervening before
embarkation were full of anxiety for him, and incessant, almost
wearisome, activity. He had made himself one moment of leisure, and
visited Bombardier Lane, but without result. Mariquita was invisible,
and McKay was compelled to abandon all hope of bidding his dear one
good-bye.
But he was not denied one last look at the girl of his heart. As the
regiment, headed by all the bands of the garrison, marched gaily down
to the New Mole, where the transport-ship awaited it, an excited
throng of spectators lined the way. Colonel Blythe headed his
regiment, of course, and close behind him, according to regulation,
marched the young sergeant-major, in brave apparel, holding his head
high, proudly conscious of his honourable position. The colonel and
the sergeant-major were the first men down the New Mole stairs; and as
they passed McKay heard his name uttered with a half-scream.
He looked round hastily, and there saw Mariquita, with white, scared
face and streaming eyes.
What could he do? It was his duty to march on unconscious, insensible
to emotion.
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