"I have brought you a message from the general."
"Why did he not come himself?"
"It was quite impossible."
"I particularly begged him to come. Who, pray, are you? Stay!" she
went on, "I ought to know your face. We have met before: at Gibraltar,
was it not?"
"Yes, at Gibraltar. I was the general's orderly sergeant."
"And do you still hold the same distinguished position?"
"No, Mrs. Wilders," said McKay, simply; "I am now a commissioned
officer, and have the honour to be the general's aide-de-camp."
"Rapid promotion that: I hope you deserved it. May I ask your name?"
"McKay--Stanislas McKay."
Could it be possible? The very man she was in search of the first to
speak to her on arrival here at Balaclava! Surely there must be some
mistake! Mastering her emotion at the suddenness of this news, she
said--
"You will forgive my curiosity, but have you any other Christian
names?"
"My name in full is Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay."
"That answer is my best excuse for asking you the question. You are,
then, our cousin?"
McKay bowed.
"I have heard of you," said Mrs. Wilders. "Allow me to congratulate
you," and she held out her hand.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A NOVEMBER GALE.
"Will you not come down into the cabin?" said Mrs. Wilders, civilly;
"the lunch is still on the table, and I daresay you will be glad of
something to eat.
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