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angement would make the journey less pleasant to me than I hoped to find it." "I thought your object was our safety, not your pleasure," said Lady Mabel. "And for my part," said Mrs. Shortridge, "I do not care to travel any road which requires a regiment to make it safe. I am inquisitive enough, but my fears would be stronger than my curiosity." "Well," Lady Mabel said, "I begin to despair of ever gratifying my longing after a rambling life. It is probably all for the best. I dare say I would have become a mere vagabond. But I had embraced a wide field in my contemplated travels: romantic Spain, la belle France, classic Italy, and that dreamy, misty Faderland. But I suppose that this war will last always, and for all practical purposes I may as well roll up the map of Europe." "Do you seriously imagine that this war will last forever?" L'Isle asked. "Why not forever, or, at least, for a long life time? It began before I was born, and may continue long after I am dead. I have no recollection of a state of peace, to make me think it the natural condition of nations." "We are luckily not limited to our own experience in drawing our conclusions. Take my word for it, these wars are drawing to a close. I am only afraid that they will end before I am a Major-General." "Why! Do you expect them to go on making a series of blunders at headquarters, like that in the affair of that unlucky Spanish village?" "A series of blunders," L'Isle answered, "would be quite in accordance with the routine at the war-office, at least. So my expectations are not so unreasonable as you may imagine." "Then let them blunder on as fast as possible, and make you a major-general, and a knight of the bath, too, if it please the king. Many of your family were knighted of old, and Sir Edward L'Isle will sound well enough until it be merged in the peerage. But mean while hasten to drive these French out of Spain, as the czar is driving them out of Russia; make Spain too hot, as Muscovy is too cold for them, that I may begin my travels at an early day." L'Isle, out of countenance, made no answer to this sally. He did not like being laughed at, especially by Lady Mabel. The rays of the declining sun now touched the tops only of the luxuriant shrubbery, that overhung this fairy dell. The heat of the day was passed, and clambering up the steep path to the more level ground, the party found their servants at hand with the horses, and
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