musings at this moment. It seemed as if a finger was straying heedlessly
across the strings. I started up, and to my surprise perceived it was Inez.
Before I had time to collect myself, a gentle tap at the window aroused me;
it opened softly, while from an unseen hand a bouquet of fresh flowers was
thrown upon my bed. Before I could collect myself to speak, the sash closed
again and I was alone.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE VISIT.
Mike's performances at the masquerade had doubtless been of the most
distinguished character, and demanded a compensating period of repose, for
he did not make his appearance the entire morning. Towards noon, however,
the door from the garden gently opened, and I heard a step upon the stone
terrace, and something which sounded to my ears like the clank of a sabre.
I lifted my head, and saw Fred Power beside me.
I shall spare my readers the recital of my friend, which, however, more
full and explanatory of past events, contained in reality little more than
Mickey Free had already told me. In fine, he informed me that our army, by
a succession of retreating movements, had deserted the northern provinces,
and now occupied the intrenched lines of Torres Vedras. That Massena, with
a powerful force, was still in march, reinforcements daily pouring in
upon him, and every expectation pointing to the probability that he would
attempt to storm our position.
"The wise-heads," remarked Power, "talk of our speedy embarkation, the
sanguine and the hot-brained rave of a great victory and the retreat of
Massena; but I was up at headquarters last week with despatches, and saw
Lord Wellington myself."
"Well, what did you make out? Did he drop any hint of his own views?"
"Faith, I can't say he did. He asked me some questions about the troops
just landed; he spoke a little of the commissary department, damned the
blankets, said that green forage was bad food for the artillery horses,
sent me an English paper to read about the O. P. riots, and said the
harriers would throw off about six o'clock, and that he hoped to see me at
dinner."
I could not restrain a laugh at Power's catalogue of his lordship's topics.
"So," said I, "he at least does not take any gloomy views of our present
situation."
"Who can tell what he thinks? He's ready to fight if fighting will do
anything, and to retreat, if that be better. But that he'll sleep an hour
less, or drink a glass of claret more--come what will of it--I'll
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