The washerwoman had for a long time looked on
the veteran with the eyes of affection; and she had determined within
herself to remove certain delicate objections which had long embarrassed
her peculiar situation, as respected the corps, by making the sergeant
the successor of her late husband. For some time past the trooper had
seemed to flatter this preference; and Betty, conceiving that her
violence might have mortified her suitor, was determined to make him all
the amends in her power. Besides, rough and uncouth as she was, the
washerwoman had still enough of her sex to know that the moments of
reconciliation were the moments of power. She therefore poured out a
glass of her morning beverage, and handed it to her companion as a
peace offering.
"A few warm words between fri'nds are a trifle, ye must be knowing,
sargeant," said the washerwoman. "It was Michael Flanagan that I ever
calumn'ated the most when I was loving him the best."
"Michael was a good soldier and a brave man," said the trooper,
finishing the glass. "Our troop was covering the flank of his regiment
when he fell, and I rode over his body myself during the day. Poor
fellow! he lay on his back, and looked as composed as if he had died a
natural death after a year's consumption."
"Oh! Michael was a great consumer, and be sartin; two such as us make
dreadful inroads in the stock, sargeant.
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