And I wish ye'd take mine, and marry me ere I march, just to try what it's like." "I must mind my mistress, Mr.Bowie," says Clara.
"And how should I interfere with that, as I've said twenty times, when I'm safe in the Crimea?
I'll get the licence this day, say what ye will: and then you would not have the heart to let me spend two pounds twelve and sixpence for nothing." Whether the last most Caledonian argument conquered or not, Mr.Bowie got the licence, was married before breakfast the next morning, and started for the Crimea at four o'clock in the afternoon; most astonished, as he confided in the train to Sergeant MacArthur, "to see a lassie that never gave him a kind word in her life, and had not been married but barely six hours, greet and greet at his going, till she vanished away into hystericals.

They're a very unfathomable species, Sergeant, are they women; and if they were taken out o' man, they took the best part o' Adam wi' them, and left us to shift with the worse." But to return to Campbell.

The last week has altered him frightfully.

He is no longer the stern, self-possessed warrior which he was; he no longer even walks upright; his cheek is pale, his eye dull; his whole countenance sunken together.

And now that the excitement of anxiety is past, he draws his feet along the pavement slowly, his hands clasped behind him, his eyes fixed on the ground, as if the life was gone from out of him, and existence was a heavy weight.
"She is safe, at least, then! One burden off my mind.