[Illustration: Drawn by John Cassel. "Where am I?" she gasped. "What--whathave you done with me?"]

The Way of an Eagle

By E. M. DELL

1911

CONTENTS

PART I

CHAPTER

I. --THE TRUST

II. --A SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER

III. --THE VICTIM OF TREACHERY

IV. --DESOLATION

V. --THE DEVIL IN THE WILDERNESS

VI. --WHEN STRONG MEN FAIL

VII. --THE COMING OF AN ARMY

PART II

VIII. --COMRADES

IX. --THE SCHOOL OF SORROW

X. --THE EAGLE SWOOPS

XI. --THE FIRST FLIGHT

XII. --THE MESSAGE

XIII. --THE VOICE OF A FRIEND

XIV. --THE POISON OF ADDERS

XV. --THE SUMMONS

XVI. --THE ORDEAL

PART III

XVII. --An Old Friend

XVIII. --The Explanation

XIX. --A Hero Worshipper

XX. --News from the East

XXI. --A Harbour of Refuge

XXII. --An Old Story

XXIII. --The Sleep Called Death

XXIV. --The Creed of a Fighter

XXV. --A Scented Letter

XXVI. --The Eternal Flame

XXVII. --The Eagle Caged

XXVIII. --The Lion's Skin

XXIX. --Old Friends Meet

XXX. --An Offer of Friendship

XXXI. --The Eagle Hovers

PART IV

XXXII. --The Face in the Storm

XXXIII. --The Lifting of the Mask

XXXIV. --At the Gate of Death

XXXV. --The Armistice

XXXVI. --The Eagle Strikes

XXXVII. THE PENALTY FOR SENTIMENT

XXXVIII. THE WATCHER OF THE CLIFF

XXXIX. BY SINGLE COMBAT

XL. THE WOMAN'S CHOICE

XLI. THE EAGLE'S PREY

XLII. THE HARDEST FIGHT OF ALL

XLIII. REQUIESCAT

XLIV. LOVE'S PRISONER

PART V

XLV. THE VISION

XLVI. THE HEART OF A MAN

XLVII. IN THE NAME OF FRIENDSHIP

XLVIII. THE HEALING OF THE BREACH

XLIX. THE LOWERING OF THE FLAG

L. EREBUS

LI. THE BIRD OF PARADISE

LII. A WOMAN'S OFFERING

LIII. THE LAST SKIRMISH

LIV. SURRENDER

LV. OMNIA VINCIT AMOR

LVI. THE EAGLE SOARS

 "There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not:

 The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid. "

Proverbs xxx, 18-19. 

THE WAY OF AN EAGLE

PART I

CHAPTER I

THE TRUST

The long clatter of an irregular volley of musketry rattled warninglyfrom the naked mountain ridges; over a great grey shoulder of rockthe sun sank in a splendid opal glow; from very near at hand came theclatter of tin cups and the sound of a subdued British laugh. And inthe room of the Brigadier-General a man lifted his head from his handsand stared upwards with unseeing, fixed eyes. 

There was an impotent, crushed look about him as of one nearing theend of his strength. The lips under the heavy grey moustache moved alittle as though they formed soundless words. He drew his breath onceor twice sharply through his teeth. Finally, with a curious gropingmovement he reached out and struck a small hand-gong on the table infront of him. 

The door slid open instantly and an Indian soldier stood in theopening. The Brigadier stared full at him for several seconds as if hesaw nothing, his lips still moving secretly, silently. Then suddenly, with a stiff gesture, he spoke. 

"Ask the major sahib and the two captain sahibs to come to me here. "

The Indian saluted and vanished like a swift-moving shadow. 

The Brigadier sank back into his chair, his head drooped forward, hishands clenched. There was tragedy, hopeless and absolute, in everyline of him. 

There came the careless clatter of spurred heels and loosely-slungswords in the passage outside of the half-closed door, the sound of astumble, a short ejaculation, and again a smothered laugh. 

"Confound you Grange! Why can't you keep your feet to yourself, youungainly Triton, and give us poor minnows a chance?"

The Brigadier sat upright with a jerk. It was growing rapidly dark. 

"Come in, all of you, " he said. "I have something to say. As well toshut the door, Ratcliffe, though it is not a council of war. "

"There being nothing left to discuss, sir, " returned the voice thathad laughed. "It is just a simple case of sitting tight now tillBassett comes round the corner. "

The Brigadier glanced up at the speaker and caught the last glow ofthe fading sunset reflected on his face. It was a clean-shaven facethat should have possessed a fair skin, but by reason of unfavourablecircumstances it was burnt to a deep yellow-brown. The features werepinched and wrinkled--they might have belonged to a very old man; butthe eyes that smiled down into the Brigadier's were shrewd, bright, monkey-like. They expressed a cheeriness almost grotesque. The two menwhom he had followed into the room stood silent among the shadows. Thegloom was such as could be felt. 

Suddenly, in short, painful tones the Brigadier began to speak. 

"Sit down, " he said. "I have sent for you to ask one among you toundertake for me a certain service which must be accomplished, butwhich I--" he paused and again audibly caught his breath between histeeth--"which I--am unable to execute for myself. "

An instant's silence followed the halting speech. Then the youngofficer who stood against the door stepped briskly forward. 

"What's the job, sir? I'll wager my evening skilly I carry itthrough. "

One of the men in the shadows moved, and spoke in a repressive tone. "Shut up, Nick! This is no mess-room joke. "

Nick made a sharp, half-contemptuous gesture. "A joke only ceasesto be a joke when there is no one left to laugh, sir, " he said. "Wehaven't come to that at present. "

He stood in front of the Brigadier for a moment--an insignificantfigure but for the perpetual suggestion of simmering activity thatpervaded him; then stepped behind the commanding officer's chair, andthere took up his stand without further words. 

The Brigadier paid no attention to him. His mind was fixed upon onesubject only. Moreover, no one ever took Nick Ratcliffe seriously. Itseemed a moral impossibility. 

"It is quite plain to me, " he said heavily at length, "that the timehas come to face the situation. I do not speak for the discouragementof you brave fellows. I know that I can rely upon each one of you todo your duty to the utmost. But we are bound to look at things as theyare, and so prepare for the inevitable. I for one am firmly convincedthat General Bassett cannot possibly reach us in time. "

He paused, but no one spoke. The man behind him was leaning forward, listening intently. 

He went on with an effort. "We are a mere handful. We have dwindledto four white men among a host of dark. Relief is not even within aremote distance of us, and we are already bordering upon starvation. We may hold out for three days more. And then"--his breath camesuddenly short, but he forced himself to continue--"I have to think ofmy child. She will be in your hands. I know you will all defend her tothe last ounce of your strength; but which of you"--a terrible gaspingchecked his utterance for many labouring seconds; he put his hand overhis eyes--"which of you, " he whispered at last, his words barelyaudible, "will have the strength to--shoot her before your own lastmoment comes?"

The question quivered through the quiet room as if wrung from thetwitching lips by sheer torture. It went out in silence--a dreadful, lasting silence in which the souls of men, stripped naked of humanconvention, stood confronting the first primaeval instinct of humanchivalry. 

It continued through many terrible seconds--that silence, and throughit no one moved, no one seemed to breathe. It was as if a spellhad been cast upon the handful of Englishmen gathered there in thedeepening darkness. 

The Brigadier sat bowed and motionless at the table, his head sunk inhis hands. 

Suddenly there was a quiet movement behind him, and the spell wasbroken. Ratcliffe stepped deliberately forward and spoke. 

"General, " he said quietly, "if you will put your daughter in my care, I swear to you, so help me God, that no harm of any sort shall touchher. "

There was no hint of emotion in his voice, albeit the words werestrong; but it had a curious effect upon those who heard it. TheBrigadier raised his head sharply, and peered at him; and the othertwo officers started as men suddenly stumbling at an unexpectedobstacle in a familiar road. 

One of them, Major Marshall, spoke, briefly and irritably, with atouch of contempt. His nerves were on edge in that atmosphere ofdespair. 

"You, Nick!" he said. "You are about the least reliable man inthe garrison. You can't be trusted to take even reasonable care ofyourself. Heaven only knows how it is you weren't killed long ago. Itwas thanks to no discretion on your part. You don't know the meaningof the word. "

Nick did not answer, did not so much as seem to hear. He was standingbefore the Brigadier. His eyes gleamed in his alert face--two weirdpin-points of light. 

"She will be safe with me, " he said, in a tone that held not thesmallest shade of uncertainty. 

But the Brigadier did not speak. He still searched young Ratcliffe'sface as a man who views through field-glasses a region distant andunexplored. 

After a moment the officer who had remained silent throughout cameforward a step and spoke. He was a magnificent man with the physiqueof a Hercules. He had remained on his feet, impassive but observant, from the moment of his entrance. His voice had that soft qualitypeculiar to some big men. 

"I am ready to sell my life for Miss Roscoe's safety, sir, " he said. 

Nick Ratcliffe jerked his shoulders expressively, but said nothing. Hewas waiting for the General to speak. As the latter rose slowly, withevident effort, from his chair, he thrust out a hand, as if almostinstinctively offering help to one in sore need. 

General Roscoe grasped it and spoke at last. He had regained hisself-command. "Let me understand you, Ratcliffe, " he said. "Yousuggest that I should place my daughter in your charge. But I mustknow first how far you are prepared to go to ensure her safety. "

He was answered instantly, with an unflinching promptitude he hadscarcely expected. 

"I am prepared to go to the uttermost limit, sir, " said NicholasRatcliffe, his fingers closing like springs upon the hand that grippedhis, "if there is a limit. That is to say, I am ready to go throughhell for her. I am a straight shot, a cool shot, a dead shot. Will youtrust me?"

His voice throbbed with sudden feeling. General Roscoe was watchinghim closely. "Can I trust you, Nick?" he said. 

There was an instant's silence, and the two men in the backgroundwere aware that something passed between them--a look or a rapidsign--which they did not witness. Then reckless and debonair cameNick's voice. 

"I don't know, sir. But if I am untrustworthy, may I die to-night!"

General Roscoe laid his free hand upon the young man's shoulder. 

"Is it so, Nick?" he said, and uttered a heavy sigh. "Well--so be itthen. I trust you. "

"That settles it, sir, " said Nick cheerily. "The job is mine. "

He turned round with a certain arrogance of bearing, and walked to thedoor. But there he stopped, looking back through the darkness at thedim figures he had left. 

"Perhaps you will tell Miss Roscoe that you have appointed medeputy-governor, " he said. "And tell her not to be frightened, sir. Say I'm not such a bogey as I look, and that she will be perfectlysafe with me. " His tone was half-serious, half-jocular. He wrenchedopen the door not waiting for a reply. 

"I must go back to the guns, " he said, and the next moment was gone, striding carelessly down the passage, and whistling a music-hallballad as he went. 

CHAPTER II

A SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER

In the centre of the little frontier fort there was a room which oneand all of its defenders regarded as sacred. It was an insignificantchamber, narrow as a prison cell and almost as bare; but it was thesafest place in the fort. In it General Roscoe's daughter--the onlywhite woman in the garrison--had dwelt safely since the beginning ofthat dreadful siege. 

Strictly forbidden by her father to stir from her refuge withouthis express permission, she had dragged out the long days in closecaptivity, living in the midst of nerve-shattering tumult but takingno part therein. She was little more than a child, and accustomedto render implicit obedience to the father she idolised, or she hadscarcely been persuaded to submit to this rigorous seclusion. It wouldperhaps have been better for her physically and even mentally tohave gone out and seen the horrors which were being daily enacted allaround her. She had at first pleaded for at least a limited freedom, urging that she might take her part in caring for the wounded. But herfather had refused this request with such decision that she had neverrepeated it. And so she had seen nothing while hearing much, lyingthrough many sleepless nights with nerves strung to a pitch of torturefar more terrible than any bodily exhaustion, and vivid imaginationever at work upon pictures more ghastly than even the ghastly realitywhich she was not allowed to see. 

The strain was such as no human frame could have endured for long. Her strength was beginning to break down under it. The long sleeplessnights were more than she could bear. And there came a time whenMuriel Roscoe, driven to extremity, sought relief in a remedy fromwhich in her normal senses she would have turned in disgust. 

It helped her, but it left its mark upon her--a mark which her fathermust have noted, had he not been almost wholly occupied with theburden that weighed him down. Morning and evening he visited her, yetfailed to read that in her haunted eyes which could not have escaped aclearer vision. 

Entering her room two hours after his interview with his officersregarding her, he looked at her searchingly indeed, but withoutunderstanding. She lay among cushions on a _charpoy_ of bamboo inthe light of a shaded lamp. Young and slight and angular, with apale little face of utter weariness, with great dark eyes that gazedheavily out of the black shadows that ringed them round, such wasMuriel Roscoe. Her black hair was simply plaited and gathered up atthe neck. It lay in cloudy masses about her temples--wonderful hair, quite lustreless, so abundant that it seemed almost too much for thelittle head that bore it. She did not rise at her father's entrance. She scarcely raised her eyes. 

"So glad you've come, Daddy, " she said, in a soft, low voice. "I'vebeen wanting you. It's nearly bedtime, isn't it?"

He went to her, treading lightly. His thoughts had been all of her forthe past few hours and in consequence he looked at her more criticallythan usual. For the first time he was struck by her pallor, her lookof deathly weariness. On the table near her lay a plate of boiled ricepiled high in a snowy pyramid. He saw that it had not been touched. 

"Why, child, " he said, a sudden new anxiety at his heart "you have hadnothing to eat. You're not ill?"

She roused herself a little, and a very faint colour crept into herwhite cheeks. "No, dear, only tired--too tired to be hungry, " she toldhim. "That rice is for you. "

He sat down beside her with a sound that was almost a groan. "You musteat something, child, " he said. "Being penned up here takes away yourappetite. But all the same you must eat. "

She sat up slowly, and pushed back the heavy hair from her foreheadwith a sigh. 

"Very well, Daddy, " she said submissively. "But you must have sometoo, dear. I couldn't possible eat it all. "

Something in his attitude or expression seemed to strike her at thispoint, and she made a determined effort to shake off her lethargy. Aspoon and fork lay by the plate. She handed him the former and keptthe latter for herself. 

"We'll have a picnic, Daddy. " she said, with a wistful little smile. "I told _ayah_ always to bring two plates, but she has forgotten. Wedon't mind, though, do we?"

It was childishly spoken, but the pathos of it went straight to theman's heart. He tasted the rice under her watching eyes and pronouncedit very good; then waited for her to follow his example which she didwith a slight shudder. 

"Delicious, Daddy, isn't it?" she said. And even he did not guess whatcourage underlay the words. 

They kept up the farce till the pyramid was somewhat reduced; then bymutual consent they suffered their ardour to flag. There was a faintcolour in the girl's thin face as she leaned back again. Her eyes werebrighter, the lids drooped less. 

"I had a dream last night, Daddy, " she said, "such a curious dream, and so vivid. I thought I was out on the mountains with some one. Idon't know who it was, but it was some one very nice. It seemed to bevery near the sunrise, for it was quite bright up above, though it wasalmost dark where we stood. And, do you know--don't laugh, Daddy, I know it was only a silly dream--when I looked up, I saw thateverywhere the mountains were full of horses and chariots of fire. Ifelt so safe, Daddy, and so happy. I could have cried when I woke up. "

She paused. It was rather difficult for her to make conversation forthe silent man who sat beside her so gloomy and preoccupied. Save thatshe loved her father as she loved no one else on earth, she might havefelt awed in his presence. 

As it was, receiving no response, she turned to look, and the nextinstant was on her knees beside him, her thin young arms clinging tohis neck. 

"Daddy, darling, darling!" she whispered, and hid her face against himin sudden, nameless terror. 

He clasped her to him, holding her close, that she might not again seehis face and the look it wore. She began to tremble, and he tried tosoothe her with his hand, but for many seconds he could find no words. 

"What is it, Daddy?" she whispered at last, unable to endure thesilence longer. "Won't you tell me? I can be very brave. You said soyourself. "

"Yes, " he said. "You will be a brave girl, I know. " His voice quiveredand he paused to steady it. "Muriel, " he said then, "I don't know ifyou have ever thought of the end of all this. There will be an end, you know. I have had to face it to-night. "

She looked up at him quickly, but he was ready for her. He hadbanished from his face the awful despair that he carried in his soul. 

"When Sir Reginald Bassett comes--" she began uncertainly. 

He put his hand on her shoulder. "You will try not to be afraid, " hesaid. "I am going to treat you, as I have treated my officers, withabsolute candour. We shall not hold out more than three days more. SirReginald Bassett will not be here in time. "

He stopped. Muriel uttered not a word. Her face was still upturned, and her eyes had suddenly grown intensely bright, but he read noshrinking in them. 

With an effort he forced himself to go on. "I may not be able toprotect you when the end comes. I may not even be with you. But--thereis one man upon whom you can safely rely whatever happens, who willgive himself up to securing your safety alone. He has sworn to me thatyou shall not be taken, and I know that he will keep his word. Youwill be safe with him, Muriel. You may trust him as long as you live. He will not fail you. Perhaps you can guess his name?"

He asked the question with a touch of curiosity in the midst ofhis tragedy. That upturned, listening face had in it so little of awoman's understanding, so much of the deep wonder of a child. 

Her answer was prompt and confident, and albeit her very lips werewhite, there was a faint hint of satisfaction in her voice as she madeit. 

"Captain Grange, of course, Daddy. "

He started and looked at her narrowly. "No, no!" he said. "Not Grange!What should make you think of him?"

He saw a look of swift disappointment, almost of consternation, darkenher eyes. For the first time her lips quivered uncertainly. 

"Who then, Daddy? Not--not Mr. Ratcliffe?"

He bent his head. "Yes, Nick Ratcliffe. I have placed you in hischarge. He will take care of you. "

"Young Nick Ratcliffe!" she said slowly. "Why, Daddy, he can't eventake care of himself yet. Every one says so. Besides, "--a curiouslywomanly touch crept into her speech--"I don't like him. Only the otherday I heard him laugh at something that was terrible--something itmakes me sick to think of. Indeed, Daddy, I would far rather haveCaptain Grange to take care of me. Don't you think he would if youasked him? He is so much bigger and stronger, and--and kinder. "

"Ah! I know, " her father said. "He seems so to you. But it is nervethat your protector will need, child; and Ratcliffe possesses morenerve than all the rest of the garrison put together. No, it must beRatcliffe, Muriel. And remember to give him all your trust, all yourconfidence. For whatever he does will be with my authority--withmy--full--approval. "

His voice failed suddenly and he rose, turning sharply away from thelight. She clung to his arm silently, in a passion of tenderness, though she was far from understanding the suffering those last wordsrevealed. She had never seen him thus moved before. 

After a few seconds he turned back to her, and bending kissed herpiteous face. She clung closely to him with an agonised longing tokeep him with her; but he put her gently from him at last. 

"Lie down again, dear, " he said, "and get what rest you can. Try notto be frightened at the noise. There is sure to be an assault, but thefort will hold to-night. "

He stood a moment, looking down at her. Then again he stooped andkissed her. "Good-bye, my darling, " he said huskily, "till we meetagain!"

And so hurriedly, as if not trusting himself to remain longer, he lefther. 

CHAPTER III

THE VICTIM OF TREACHERY

There came again the running rattle of rifle-firing from the valleybelow the fort, and Muriel Roscoe, lying on her couch, pressed bothhands to her eyes and shivered. It seemed impossible that the endcould be so near. She felt as if she had existed for years in thisliving nightmare of many horrors, had lain down and had slept withthat dreadful sound in her ears from the very beginning of things. Thelife she had led before these ghastly happenings had become so vague amemory that it almost seemed to belong to a previous existence, to anearlier and a happier era. As in a dream she now recalled the visionof her English school-life. It lay not a year behind her, but she feltherself to have changed so fundamentally since those sunny, peacefuldays that she seemed to be a different person altogether. The MurielRoscoe of those days had been a merry, light-hearted personality. Shehad revelled in games and all outdoor amusements. Moreover, she hadbeen quick to learn, and her lessons had never caused her any trouble. A daring sprite she had been, with a most fertile imagination and alonging for adventure that had never been fully satisfied, possessingwithal so tender and loving a heart that the very bees in the gardenhad been among her cherished friends. She remembered all the sunnyideals of that golden time and marvelled at herself, forgettingutterly the eager, even passionate, craving that had then been hersfor the wider life, the broader knowledge, that lay beyond her reach, forgetting the feverish impatience with which she had longed forthe day of her emancipation when she might join her father in thewonderful glowing East which she so often pictured in her dreams. Ofher mother she had no memory. She had died at her birth. Her fatherwas all the world to her; and when at last he had travelled home on abrief leave and taken her from her quiet English life to the strange, swift existence of the land of his exile, her soul had overflowed withhappiness. 

Nevertheless, she had not been carried away by the gaieties of thisnew world. The fascinations of dance and gymkhana had not caught her. The joy of being with her father was too sacred and too precious to beforegone for these lesser pleasures, and she very speedily decided tosacrifice all social entertainments to which he could not accompanyher. She rode with him, camped with him, and became his inseparablecompanion. Undeveloped in many ways, shy in the presence of strangers, she soon forgot her earlier ambition to see the world and all that itcontained. Her father's society was to her all-sufficing, and it wasno sacrifice to her to withdraw herself from the gay crowd and dwellapart with him. 

He had no wish to monopolise her, but it was a relief to him that theconstant whirl of pleasure about her attracted her so little. He likedto have her with him, and it soon became a matter of course that sheshould accompany him on all his expeditions. She revelled in his toursof inspection. They were so many picnics to her, and she enjoyed themwith the zest of a child. 

And so it came to pass that she was with him among the hills of thefrontier when, like a pent flood suddenly escaping, the storm ofrebellion broke and seethed about them, threatening them with totalannihilation. 

No serious trouble had been anticipated. A certain tract of countryhad been reported unquiet, and General Roscoe had been ordered toproceed thither on a tour of inspection and also, to a very milddegree, of intimidation. Marching through the district from fort tofort, he had encountered no shadow of opposition. All had gone well. And then, his work over, and all he set out to do satisfactorilyaccomplished, his face towards India and his back to the mountains, the unexpected had come upon him like a thunderbolt. 

Hordes of tribesmen, gathered Heaven knew how or whence, had suddenlyburst upon him from the south, had cut off his advance by sheerimmensity of numbers, and, hemming him in, had forced him graduallyback into the mountain fastnesses through which he had just passedunmolested. 

It was a stroke so wholly new, so subtly executed, that it had wonsuccess almost before the General had realised the weight of thedisaster that had come upon him. He had believed himself at first tobe involved in a mere fray with border thieves. But before he reachedthe fort upon which he found himself obliged to fall back, he knewthat he had to cope with a general rising of the tribes, and that themeans at his disposal were as inadequate to stem the rising flood ofrebellion as a pebble thrown into a mountain stream to check its flow. 

The men under his command, with the exception of a few officers, wereall native soldiers, and he soon began to have a strong suspicion thatamong these he numbered traitors. Nevertheless, he established himselfat the fort, determined there to make his stand till relief shouldarrive. 

The telegraph wires were cut, and for a time it seemed that allcommunication with the outside world was an impossibility. Severalrunners were sent out, but failed to break through the besiegingforces. But at last after many desperate days there came a messagefrom without--a scrap of paper attached to a stone and flung over thewall of the fort at night. News of the disaster had reached Peshawur, and Sir Reginald Bassett, with a hastily collected force, was movingto their assistance. 

The news put heart into the garrison, and for a time it seemed thatthe worst would be averted. But it became gradually evident to GeneralRoscoe that the relieving force could not reach them in time. Thewater supply had run very low, and the men were already subsistingupon rations that were scarcely sufficient for the maintenance oflife. There was sickness among them, and there were also many wounded. The white men were reduced to four, including himself, the nativesoldiers had begun to desert, and he had been forced at last to facethe fact that the end was very near. 

All this had Muriel Roscoe come through, physically scathless, mentally torn and battered, and she could not bring herself to realisethat the long-drawn-out misery of the siege could ever be over. 

Lying there, tense and motionless, she listened to the shots and yellsin the distance with a shuddering sense that it was all a part of herlife, of her very being, even. The torture and the misery had so eateninto her soul. Now and then she heard the quick thunder of one of thesmall guns that armed the fort, and at the sound her pulses leapedand quivered. She knew that the ammunition was running very low. Theseguns did not often speak now. 

Then, during a lull, there came to her the careless humming of aBritish voice, the free, confident tread of British feet, approachingher door. 

She caught her breath as a hand rapped smartly upon the panel. Sheknew who the visitor was, but she could not bring herself to bid himenter. A sudden awful fear was upon her. She could neither speak normove. She lay, listening intently, hoping against hope that he wouldbelieve her to be sleeping and go away. 

The knock was not repeated. Dead silence reigned. And then quicklyand decidedly the door opened, and Nick Ratcliffe stood upon thethreshold. The light struck full upon his face as he halted--a clever, whimsical face that might mask almost any quality good or bad. 

"May I come in, Miss Roscoe?" he asked. 

For she had not moved at his appearance. She lay as one dead. But ashe spoke she uncovered her face, and terror incarnate stared wildly athim from her starting eyes. He entered without further ceremony, and closed the door behind him. In the shaded lamplight his featuresseemed to twitch as if he wanted to smile. So at least it seemed toher wrought-up fancy. 

He gazed greedily at the plate of rice on the table as he cameforward. "Great Jupiter!" he said. "What a sumptuous repast!"

The total freedom from all anxiety or restraint with which he madethis simple observation served to restore to some degree the girl'stottering self-control. She sat up, sufficiently recovered to rememberthat she did not like this man. 

"Pray have some if you want it, " she said coldly. 

He turned his back on it abruptly. "No, don't tempt me, " he said. "It's a fast day for me. I'm acquiring virtue, being conspicuouslydestitute of all other forms of comfort. Why don't you eat ityourself? Are you acquiring virtue too?"

He stood looking down at her quizzically, under rapidly flickeringeyelids. She sat silent, wishing with all her heart that he would goaway. 

Nothing, however, was apparently further from his thoughts. After amoment he sat down in the chair that her father had occupied an hourbefore. It was very close to her, and she drew herself slightlyaway with a small, instinctive movement of repugnance. But Nick wassublimely impervious to hints. 

"I say, you know, " he said abruptly, "you shouldn't take opium. Yourdonkey of an _ayah_ ought to know better than to let you have it. "

Muriel gave a great start. "I don't"--she faltered. "I--I--"

He shook his head at her, as though reproving a child. "Pussy's out, "he observed. "It is no good giving chase. But really, you know, youmustn't do it. You used to be a brave girl once, and now your nervesare all to pieces. "

There was a species of paternal reproach in his tone. Looking at him, she marvelled that she had ever thought him young and headlong. Almostin spite of herself she began to murmur excuses. 

"I can't help it. I must have something. I don't sleep. I lie forhours, listening to the fighting. It--it's more than I can bear. "Her voice quivered, and she turned her face aside, unable to hide heremotion, but furious with herself for displaying it. 

Nick said nothing at all to comfort her, and she bitterly resentedhis silence. After a pause he spoke again, as if he had banished thematter entirely from his mind. 

"Look here, " he said. "I want you to tell me something. I don't knowwhat sort of a fellow you think I am, though I fancy you don't likeme much. But you're not afraid of me, are you? You know I'm to betrusted?"

It was her single chance of revenge, and she took it. "I have myfather's word for it, " she said. 

He nodded thoughtfully as if unaware of the thrust. "Yes, your fatherknows me. And so"--he smiled at her suddenly--"you are ready to trustme on his recommendation? You are ready to follow me blindfold throughdanger if I give you my hand to hold?"

She felt a sharp chill strike her heart. What was it he was asking ofher? What did those words of his portend?

"I don't know, " she said. "I don't see that it makes much differencehow I feel. "

"Well, it does, " he assured her. "And that is exactly what I havecome to talk about. Miss Roscoe, will you leave the fort with me, and escape in disguise? I have thought it all out, and it can be donewithout much difficulty. I do not need to tell you that the idea hasyour father's full approval. "

They were her father's own words, but at sound of them she shrankand shivered, in sheer horror at the coolness with which they wereuttered. He might have been asking her to stroll with him in the leafyquiet of some English lane. 

Could it be, she asked herself incredulously, could it be that herfather had ever sanctioned and approved so ghastly a risk for her? Sheput her hand to her temples. Her brain was reeling. How could she dothis thing? How could she have permitted it to be even suggested toher? And then, swift through her tortured mind flashed his words:"There will be an end. I have had to face it to-night. " Was it thisthat he had meant? Was it for this that he had been preparing her?

With a muffled exclamation she rose, trembling in every limb. "Ican't!" she cried piteously, "oh, I can't! Please go away!"

It might have been the frightened prayer of a child, so beseechingwas it, so full of weakness. But Nick Ratcliffe heard it unmoved. Hewaited a few seconds till she came to a stand by the table, her backtowards him. Then with a sudden quiet movement he rose and followedher. 

"I beg your pardon, " he said. "But you can't afford to shirk thingsat this stage. I am offering you deliverance, though you don't realiseit. "

He spoke with force, and if his aim had been to rouse her to a morepractical activity, he gained his end. She turned upon him in swiftand desperate indignation. Her voice rang almost harsh. 

"How can you call it deliverance? It is at best a choice of twohorrible evils. You know perfectly well that we could never getthrough. You must be mad to suggest such a thing. We should be madeprisoners and massacred under the very guns of the fort. "

"I beg your pardon, " he said again, and his eyelids quivered a littleas if under the pressure of some controlled emotion. "We shall not bemade prisoners. I know what I am saying. It is deliverance that I amoffering you. Of course you can refuse, and I shall still do myutmost to save you. But the chances are not equal. I hope you will notrefuse. "

The moderation of this speech calmed her somewhat. In her first wildpanic she had almost imagined that he could take her against her will. She saw that she had been unreasonable, but she was too shaken to tellhim so. Moreover, there was still that about him, notwithstanding hiswords, that made her afraid to yield a single inch of ground lest bysome hidden means he should sweep her altogether from her precariousfoothold. Even in the silence, she felt that he was doing battle withher, and she did not dare to face him. 

With a childish gesture of abandonment, she dropped into a chair andlaid her head upon her arms. 

"Oh, please go away!" she besought him weakly. "I am so tired--sotired. "

But Ratcliffe did not move. He stood looking down at her, at the blackhair that clustered about her neck, at the bowed, despairing figure, the piteous, clenched hands. 

A little clock in the room began to strike in silvery tones, and heglanced up. The next instant he bent and laid a bony hand upon her twoclasped ones. 

"Can't you decide?" he said. "Will you let me decide for you? Don'tlet yourself get scared. You have kept so strong till now. " Firmlyas he spoke, there was somehow a note of soothing in his voice, andalmost insensibly the girl was moved by it. She remained silent andmotionless, but the strong grip of his fingers comforted her subtlynotwithstanding. 

"Come, " he said, "listen a moment and let me tell you my plan ofcampaign. It is very simple, and for that reason it is going tosucceed. You are listening now?"

His tone was vigorous and insistent. Muriel sat slowly up in responseto it. She looked down at the thin hand that grasped hers, andwondered at its strength; but she lacked the spirit at that moment toresent its touch. 

He leaned down upon the table, his face close to hers, and began tounfold his plan. 

"We shall leave the fort directly the moon is down. I have a disguisefor you that will conceal your face and hair. And I shall fake as atribesman, so that my dearest friend would never recognise me. Theywill be collecting the wounded in the dark, and I will carry youthrough on my shoulder as if I had got a dead relation. You won'tobject to playing a dead relation of mine?"

He broke into a sudden laugh, but sobered instantly when he saw hershrink at the sound. 

"That's about all the plan, " he resumed. "There is nothing veryalarming about it, for they will never spot us in the dark. I'm asyellow as a Chinaman already. We shall be miles away by morning. And Iknow how to find my way afterwards. "

He paused, but Muriel made no comment. She was staring straight beforeher. 

"Can you suggest any amendments?" he asked. 

She turned her head and looked at him with newly-roused aversion inher eyes. She had summoned all her strength to the combat, realisingthat now was the moment for resistance if she meant to resist. 

"No, Mr. Ratcliffe, " she said, with a species of desperate firmnessvery different from his own. "I have nothing to suggest. If you wishto escape, you must go alone. It is quite useless to try to persuademe any further. Nothing--nothing will induce me to leave my father. "

Whether or not he had expected this opposition was not apparent onNick's face. It betrayed neither impatience nor disappointment. 

"There would be some reason in that, " he gravely rejoined, "if youcould do any good to your father by remaining. Of course I see yourpoint, but it seems to me that it would be harder for him to see youstarve with the rest of the garrison than to know that you had escapedwith me. A woman in your position is bound to be a continual burdenand anxiety to those who protect her. The dearer she is to them, somuch the heavier is the burden. Miss Roscoe, you must see this. Youare not an utter child. You must realise that to leave your fatheris about the greatest sacrifice you can make for him at the presentmoment. He is worn out with anxiety on your behalf, literally boweddown by it. For his sake, you are going to do this thing, it being theonly thing left that you can do for him. "

There was more than persuasion in his voice. It held authority. ButMuriel heard it without awe. She had passed that stage. The matterwas too momentous to allow of weakness. She had strung herself to thehighest pitch of resistance as a hunted creature at bay. She threwback her head, a look of obstinacy about her lips, her slight figurestraightened to the rigidity of defiance. 

"I will not be forced, " she said, in sharp, uneven tones. "Mr. Ratcliffe, you may go on persuading and arguing till doomsday. I willnot leave my father. "

Ratcliffe stood up abruptly. A curious glitter shone in his eyes, andthe light eyebrows twitched a little. She felt that he had suddenlyceased to do battle with her, yet that the victory was not hers. Andfor a second she was horribly frightened, as though an iron trap hadclosed upon her and held her at his mercy. 

He walked to the door without speaking and opened it. She expectedhim to go, sat waiting breathlessly for his departure, but instead hestood motionless, looking into the dark passage. 

She wondered with nerves on edge what he was waiting for. Suddenlyshe heard a step without, a few murmured words, and Nick stood on oneside. Her father's Sikh orderly passed him, carrying a tray on whichwas a glass full of some dark liquid. He set it down on the tablebefore her with a deep salaam. 

"The General Sahib wishes Missy Sahib to have a good night, " he said. "He cannot come to her himself, but he sends her this by his servant, and he bids her drink it and sleep. "

Muriel looked up at the man in surprise. Her father had never donesuch a thing before, and the message astonished her not a little. Then, remembering that he had shown some anxiety regarding herappearance that evening, she fancied she began to understand. Yetit was strange, it was utterly unlike him, to desire her to take anopiate. She looked at the glass with hesitation. 

"Give him my love, Purdu, " she said finally to the waiting orderly. "Tell him I will take it if I cannot sleep without. "

The man bowed himself again and withdrew. To her disgust, however, Nick remained. He was looking at her oddly. 

"Miss Roscoe, " he said abruptly, "I beg you, don't drink thatstuff. Your father must be mad to offer it to you. Let me take thebeastliness away. "

She faced him indignantly. "My father knows what is good for me betterthan you do, " she said. 

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't profess to be a sage. But anyone will tell you that it is madness to take opium in this recklessfashion. For Heaven's sake, be reasonable. Don't take it. "

He came back to the table, but at his approach she laid her hand uponthe glass. She was quivering with angry excitement. 

"I will not endure your interference any longer, " she declared, goadedto headlong, nervous fury by his persistence. "My father's wishes areenough for me. He desires me to take it, and so I will. "

She took up the glass in a sudden frenzy of defiance. He hadfrightened her--yes, he had frightened her--but he should see howlittle he had gained by that. She took a taste of the liquid, thenpaused, again assailed by a curious hesitancy. Had her father reallymeant her to take it all?

Nick had stopped short at her first movement, but as she began tolower the glass in response to that disquieting doubt, he swoopedsuddenly forward like a man possessed. 

For a fleeting instant she thought he was going to wrest it from her, but in the next she understood--understood the man's deep treachery, and with what devilish ingenuity he had worked upon her. Holding herwith an arm that felt like iron, he forced the glass back between herteeth, and tilted the contents down her throat. She strove to resisthim, strove wildly, frantically, not to swallow the draught. But heheld her pitilessly. He compelled her, gripping her right hand withthe glass, and pinning the other to her side. 

When it was over, when he had worked his will and the hateful draughtwas swallowed, he set her free and turned himself sharply from her. 

She sprang up trembling and hysterical. She could have slain him inthat instant had she possessed the means to her hand. But her strengthwas more nearly exhausted than she knew. Her limbs doubled up underher weight, and as she tottered, seeking for support, she realisedthat she was vanquished utterly at last. 

She saw him wheel quickly and start to support her, sought to evadehim, failed--and as she felt his arms lift her, she cried aloud inanguished helplessness. 

What followed dwelt ever after in her memory as a hideous dream, vividyet not wholly tangible. He laid her down upon the couch and bent overher, his hands upon her, holding her still; for every muscle, everynerve twitched spasmodically, convulsively, in the instinctive effortof the powerless body to be free. She had a confused impression alsothat he spoke to her, but what he said she was never able to recall. In the end, her horror faded, and she saw him as through a mistbending above her, grim and tense and silent, controlling her as itwere from an immense distance. And even while she yet dimly wondered, he passed like a shadow from her sight, and wonder itself ceased. 

Half an hour later Nicholas Ratcliffe, the wit and clown of hisregiment, regarded by many as harebrained or wantonly reckless, carried away from the beleaguered fort among the hostile mountains theslight, impassive figure of an English girl. 

The night was dark, populated by terrors alive and ghastly. But hewent through it as one unaware of its many dangers. Light-footed andfearless, he passed through the midst of his enemies, marching withthe sublime audacity of the dominant race, despising caution--yea, grinning triumphant in the very face of Death. 

CHAPTER IV

DESOLATION

Out of a deep abyss of darkness in which she seemed to have wanderedceaselessly and comfortlessly for many days, Muriel Roscoe camehaltingly back to the surface of things. She was very weak, so weakthat to open her eyes was an exertion requiring all her resolution, and to keep them open during those first hours of returning life aphysical impossibility. She knew that she was not alone, for gentlehands ministered to her, and she was constantly aware of some one whowatched her tirelessly, with never-failing attention. But she feltnot the smallest interest regarding this faithful companion, beingtoo weary to care whether she lived or fell away for ever down thoseunending steeps up which some unseen influence seemed magnetically todraw her. 

It was a stage of returning consciousness that seemed to last evenlonger than the period of her wandering, but this also began to passat length. The light grew stronger all about her, the mists rolledslowly away from her clogged brain, leaving only a drowsing languorthat was infinitely restful to her tired senses. 

And then while she lay half-dreaming and wholly content, a remorselesshand began to bathe her face and head with ice-cold water. She awokereluctantly, even resentfully. 

"Don't!" she entreated like a child. "I am so tired. Let me sleep. "

"My poor dear, I know all about it, " a motherly voice made answer. "But it's time for you to wake. "

She did not grasp the words--only, very vaguely, their meaning; andthis she made a determined, but quite fruitless, effort to defy. Inthe end, being roused in spite of herself, she opened her eyes andgazed upwards. 

And all his life long Nick Ratcliffe remembered the reproach thatthose eyes held for him. It was as if he had laid violent hands upon aspirit that yearned towards freedom, and had dragged it back into thesordid captivity from which it had so nearly escaped. 

But it was only for a moment that she looked at him so. The reproachfaded swiftly from the dark eyes and he saw a startled horror dawnbehind it. 

Suddenly she raised herself with a faint cry. "Where am I?" shegasped. "What--what have you done with me?"

She stared around her wildly, with unreasoning, nightmare terror. Shewas lying on a bed of fern in a narrow, dark ravine. The place wasfull of shadow, though far overhead she saw the light of day. At oneend, only a few yards from her, a stream rushed and gurgled amonggreat boulders, and its insistent murmur filled the air. Behind herrose a great wall of grey rock, clothed here and there with some darkgrowth. Its rugged face was dented with hollows that looked like thehomes of wild animals. There was a constant trickle of water on allsides, an eerie whispering, remote but incessant. As she sat there ingrowing panic, a great bat-like creature, immense and shadowy, swoopedsoundlessly by her. 

She shrank back with another cry, and found Nick Ratcliffe's armthrust protectingly about her. 

"It's all right, " he said, in a matter-of-fact tone. "You're notfrightened at flying-foxes, are you?"

Recalled to the fact of his presence, she turned sharply, and flunghis arm away as though it had been a snake. "Don't touch me!" shegasped, passionate loathing in voice and gesture. 

"Sorry, " said Nick imperturbably. "I meant well. "

He began to busy himself with a small bundle that lay upon the ground, whistling softly between his teeth, and for a few seconds Muriel satand watched him. He was dressed in a flowing native garment, thatcovered him from head to foot. Out of the heavy enveloping folds hissmooth, yellow face looked forth, sinister and terrible to her feveredvision. He looked like some evil bird, she thought to herself. 

Glancing down, she saw that she was likewise attired, save thather head was bare. The hair hung wet on her forehead, and the waterdripped down her face. She put up her hand half-mechanically to wipethe drops away. Her fear was mounting rapidly higher. 

She knew now what had happened. He had drugged her forcibly--sheshivered at the remembrance--and had borne her away to this dreadfulplace during her unconsciousness. Her father was left behind in thefort. He had sanctioned her removal. He had given her, a helplesscaptive, into this man's keeping. 

But no! Her whole soul rose up in sudden fierce denial of this. Hehad never done this thing. He had never given his consent to an act socowardly and so brutal. He was incapable of parting with her thus. Hecould never have permitted so base a trick, so cruel, so outrageous, adeed of treachery. 

Strength came suddenly to her--the strength of frenzy. She leaped toher feet. She would escape. She would go back to him through allthe hordes of the enemy. She would face anything--anything in theworld--rather than remain at the mercy of this man. 

But--he had not been looking at her, and he did not look at her, --hisarm shot out as she moved, and his hand fastened claw-like upon herdress. 

"Sorry, " he said again, in the same practical tone. "But you'll havesomething to eat before you go. "

She stooped and strove wildly, frantically, to shake off the detaininghand. But it held her like a vice, with awful skeleton fingers thatshe could not, dared not, touch. 

"Let me go!" she cried impotently. "How dare you? How dare you?"

Still he did not raise his head. He was on his knees, and he would noteven trouble himself to rise. 

"I can't help myself, " he told her coolly. "It's not my fault. It'syours. "

She made a final, violent effort to wrest herself free. And then--itwas as if all power were suddenly taken from her--her strained nervesgave way completely, and she dropped down upon the ground again in aquivering agony of helplessness. 

Nick's hand fell away from her. "You shouldn't, " he said gently. "It'sno good, you know. "

He returned to his former occupation while she sat with her facehidden, in a stupor of fear, afraid to move lest he should touch heragain. 

"Now, " said Nick, after a brief pause, "let me have the pleasure ofseeing you break your fast. There is some of that excellent boiledrice of yours here. You will feel better when you have had some. "

She trembled at the sound of his voice. Could he make her eat alsoagainst her will, she wondered?

"Come!" said Nick again, in a tone of soft wheedling that he mighthave employed to a fractious child. "It'll do you good, you know, Muriel. Won't you try? Just a mouthful--to please me!"

Reluctantly she uncovered her face, and looked at him. He was kneelingin front of her, the _chuddah_ pushed back from his face, humblyoffering her an oatmeal biscuit with a small heap of rice piled uponit. 

She drew back shuddering. "I couldn't eat anything--possibly, " shesaid, and even her voice seemed to shrink. "You can. You take it. Iwould rather die. "

Nick did not withdraw his hand. "Take it, Muriel, " he said quietly. "It is going to do you good. "

She flashed him a desperate glance in which anger, fear, abhorrence, were strongly mingled. He advanced the biscuit a little nearer. Therewas a queer look on his yellow face, almost a bullying look. 

"Take it, " he said again. 

And against her will, almost without conscious movement, she obeyedhim. The untempting morsel passed from his hand to hers, and under thecompulsion of his insistence she began to eat. 

She felt as if every mouthful would choke her, but she persevered, urged by the dread certainty that he would somehow have his way. 

Not until the last fragment was gone did she feel his vigilance relax, but he ate nothing himself though there remained several biscuits anda very little of the rice. 

"You are feeling better?" he asked her then. 

A curious suspicion that he was waiting to tell her something madeher answer almost feverishly in the affirmative. It amounted to apremonition of evil tidings, and instinctively her thoughts flew toher father. 

"What is it?" she questioned nervously. "You have something to say. "

Nick's face was turned from her. He seemed to be gazing across theravine. 

"Yes, " he said, after a moment. 

"Oh, what?" she broke in. "Tell me quickly--quickly! It is my father, I know, I know. He has been hurt--wounded--"

She stopped. Nick had lifted one hand as if to silence her. "My dear, "he said, his voice very low, "your father died last night--before weleft the fort. "

At her cry of agony he started up, and in a second he was on hisknees by her side and had gathered her to him as though she had beena little child in need of comfort. She did not shrink from him in herextremity. The blow had been too sudden, too overwhelming. It blottedout all lesser sensibilities. In those first terrible moments shedid not think of Nick at all, was scarcely conscious of his presence, though she vaguely felt the comfort of his arms. 

And he, holding her fast against his breast, found no consolation, noword of any sort wherewith to soothe her. He only rocked her gently, pressing her head to his shoulder, while his face, bent above her, quivered all over as the face of a man in torture. 

Muriel spoke at last, breaking her stricken silence with a strangelyeffortless composure. "Tell me more, " she said. 

She stirred in his arms as if to free herself from some oppression, and finally drew herself away from him, though not as if she wished toescape his touch. She still seemed to be hardly aware of him. He wasthe medium of her information, that was all. Nick dropped back intohis former attitude, his hands clasped firmly round his knees, hiseyes, keen as a bird's and extremely bright, gazing across the ravine. His lips still quivered a little, but his voice was perfectly even andquiet. 

"It happened very soon after the firing began. It must have beendirectly after he left you. He was hit in the breast, just over theheart. We couldn't do anything for him. He knew himself that it wasmortal. In fact, I think he had almost expected it. We took him intothe guardroom and made him as easy as possible. He lost consciousnessbefore he died. He was lying unconscious when I came to you. "

Muriel made a sharp movement. "And you never told me, " she said, in adry whisper. 

"I thought it best, " he answered with great gentleness. "You could nothave gone to him. He didn't wish it. "

"Why not?" she demanded, and suddenly her voice rang harsh again. "Whycould I not have gone to him? Why didn't he wish it?"

Nick hesitated for a single instant. Then, "It was for your own sake, "he said, not looking at her. 

"You mean he suffered?"

"While he remained conscious--yes. " Nick spoke reluctantly. "It didn'tlast long, " he said. 

She scarcely seemed to hear him. "And so you tricked me, " she said;"you tricked me while my father was lying dying. I was not to seehim--either then or after--for my own sake! And do you think"--hervoice rising--"do you think that you were in any way justified intreating me so? Do you think it was merciful to blind me and to takefrom me all I should ever have of comfort to look back upon? Do youthink I couldn't have borne it all ten thousand times easier if Icould have seen and known the very worst? It was my right--it wasmy right! How dared you take it from me? I will never forgiveyou--never!"

She was on her feet as the passionate protest burst from her, but sheswayed as she stood and flung out her arms with a groping gesture. 

"I could have borne it, " she cried again wildly, piteously. "I couldhave borne anything--anything--if I had only known!"

She broke into a sudden, terrible sobbing, and threw herselfdown headlong upon the earth, clutching at the moss with shaking, convulsive fingers, and crying between her sobs for "Daddy! Daddy!" asthough her agony could pierce the dividing barrier and bring himback to her. Nick made no further attempt to help her. He sat gazingstonily out before him in a sphinx-like stillness that never variedwhile the storm of her anguish spent itself at his side. 

Even after her sobs had ceased from sheer exhaustion he made nomovement, no sign that he was so much as thinking of her. 

Only when at last she raised herself with difficulty, and put theheavy hair back from her disfigured face, did he turn slightly andhold out to her a small tin cup. 

"It's only water, " he said gently. "Have some. "

She took it almost mechanically and drank, then lay back with closedeyes and burning head, sick and blinded by her paroxysm of weeping. 

A little later she felt his hands moving about her again, but she wastoo spent to open her eyes. He bathed her face with a care equal toany woman's, smoothed back her hair, and improvised a pillow for herhead. 

And afterwards she knew that he sat down by her, out of sight butclose at hand, a silent presence watching over her, till at last, wornout with grief and the bitter strain of the past weeks, she sank intonatural, dreamless slumber, and slept for hours. 

CHAPTER V

THE DEVIL IN THE WILDERNESS

It was dark when Muriel awoke--so dark that she lay for a whiledreamily fancying herself in bed. But this illusion passed veryquickly as her brain, refreshed and active, resumed its work. The cryof a jackal at no great distance roused her to full consciousness, andshe started up in the chill darkness, trembling and afraid. 

Instantly a warm hand grasped hers, and a low voice spoke. "It's allright, " said Nick. "I'm here. "

"Oh, isn't it dark?" she said. "Isn't it dark?"

"Don't be frightened, " he answered gently. "Come close to me. You arecold. "

She crept to him shivering, thankful for the shielding arm he threwaround her. 

"The sunrise can't be far off, " he said. "I expect you are hungry, aren't you?"

She was very hungry, and he put a biscuit into her hand. The very factof eating there in the darkness in some measure reassured her. She ateseveral biscuits, and began to feel much better. 

"Getting warmer?" questioned Nick. "Let me feel your hands. " They werestill cold, and he took them and thrust them down against his breast. She shrank a little at the touch of his warm flesh. 

"It will make you so cold, " she murmured. 

But he only laughed at her softly, and pressed them closer. "I am noteasily chilled, " he said. "Besides, it's sleeping that makes you cold. And I haven't slept. "

Muriel heard the news with astonishment. She was no longer angry withNick, and her fears of him were dormant. Though she would never forgetand might never forgive his treachery, he was her sole protector inthat wilderness of many terrors, and she lacked the resolution to keephim at arm's length. There was, moreover, something comforting in hispresence, something that vastly reassured her, making her lean uponhim almost in spite of herself. 

"Haven't you slept at all?" she asked him in wonder. "How in the worlddid you keep awake?"

He did not answer her, only laughed again as though at some secretjoke. He seemed to be in rather good spirits, she noticed, and shemarvelled at him with a heavy pain at her heart that was utterlybeyond expression or relief. 

She sat silent for a little, then at length withdrew her hands, assuring him that they were quite warm. 

"And I want to talk to you, " she added, in a more practical tone thanshe had previously managed to assume. "Mr. Ratcliffe, you may be incommand of this expedition, but I think you ought to tell me yourplans. "

"Call me Nick, won't you?" he said. "It'll make things easier. You arequite welcome to know my plans, such as they are. I haven't managedto develop anything very ingenious during all these hours. You see weare, to a certain extent, at the mercy of circumstances. This placeisn't more than a dozen miles from the fort, and the hills all roundare infested with tribesmen. I hoped at first that we should get clearin the night, but you were asleep, and on the whole it seemed best tolie up for another day. We might make a bolt for it to-morrow night ifall goes well. I have a sort of instinct for these mountains. There isalways plenty of cover for those who know how to find it. It will beslow progress, of course, but we will keep moving south, and, givenluck, we may fall in with Bassett's relief column before many days. "

So with much serenity he disclosed his plans, and Muriel marvelledafresh at the confidence that buoyed him up. Was he really assublimely free from anxiety as he wished her to believe, she wondered?It was difficult to think otherwise, even though he had admitted thatthey were governed by circumstance. She began to think that there wasmagic in him, some hidden reserve force upon which he could alwaysdraw when all other resources failed. 

Another matter had also caught her attention, and this she presentlydecided to investigate. She had never thought of Nick Ratcliffe as inany sense a remarkable person before. 

"Did you actually carry me ten miles?" she asked. 

"Something very near it, " said Nick. 

"How in the world did you do it?" Her interest was quickened. Undoubtedly there was something uncanny in this man's strength. 

"You're not very heavy, you know, " he said. 

His arm was still around her, and she suffered it; for the darknessstill frightened her when she allowed herself to think. 

"Have you had anything to eat?" she asked him next. 

"Not quite lately, " said Nick. "I've been smoking. I wonder you didn'tnotice it. "

His tone was somehow repressive, but she ignored it with a growingtemerity. After all, he did not seem such an alarming person on anearer acquaintance. 

"Does smoking do as well as eating?" she asked. 

"Much better, " said Nick promptly. "Care to try?"

She shook her head in the darkness. "I don't think you are telling thetruth, " she said. 

"What?" said Nick. 

He spoke carelessly, but she did not repeat her assertion. A suddenshyness descended upon her, and she became silent. Nick was quiet too, and she wondered what was passing in his mind. But for the tensenessof the arm that encircled her, she could have believed him to bedozing. The silence was becoming oppressive when abruptly he broke it. 

"See!" he said. "Here comes the dawn!"

She started and stared in front of her, seeing nothing. 

"Over to your left, " said Nick. And turning she beheld a lightening ofthe darkness high above them. 

She breathed a sigh of thankfulness, and watched it grow. It spreadrapidly. The walls of the ravine showed ghostly grey, then faintlypink. Through the dimness the boulders scattered about the streamstood up like mediaeval monsters, and for a few panic-stricken secondsMuriel took the twining roots of a rhododendron close at hand for thecoils of a gigantic snake. Then as the ordinary light of day filtereddown into the gloomy place she sighed again with relief, and looked ather companion. 

He was sitting with his chin on his hand, gazing across the ravine. Hedid not stir or glance in her direction. His yellow face was seamed ina thousand wrinkles. 

A vague misgiving assailed her as she looked at him. There wassomething unnatural in his stillness. 

"Nick!" she said at length with hesitation. 

He turned sharply, and in an instant the ready grin leaped out uponhis face. "Good morning, " he said lightly. "I was just thinking hownice it would be to go down there and have a wash. We've got to passthe time somehow, you know. Will you go first?"

His gaiety baffled her, but she did not feel wholly reassured. She gotup slowly, and as she did so, her attention was caught by somethingthat sent a thrill of dismay through her. 

"Don't look at my feet, please, " said Nick. "They won't bearinspection at present. "

She turned horrified eyes to his face, as he thrust them down into abunch of fern. "How dreadful!" she exclaimed. "They are all cut andgashed. I didn't know you were barefooted. "

"I wasn't, " said Nick. "I've got some sandals here. Don't look likethat! You make me want to cry. I assure you it doesn't hurt in theleast. "

He grinned again as he uttered this cheerful lie, but Muriel was notdeceived. 

"You must let me bind them up, " she said. 

"Not for the world, " laughed Nick. "I couldn't walk with my feetin poultice-bags, and we shall have some more rough marching to doto-night. Now don't you worry. Run along like a good girl. I'm goingto say my prayers. "

It was flippantly spoken, but Muriel realised that it would be betterto obey. She turned about slowly, and began to make her way down tothe stream. 

The sunlight was beginning to slant through the ravine, and here andthere the racing water gleamed silvery. It was intensely refreshing tokneel and bathe face and hands in its icy coldness. She lingered longover it. Its sparkling purity seemed to reach and still the throbbingmisery at her heart. In some fashion it brought her peace. 

She would have prayed, but she felt she had no prayer to offer. Shehad no favour to ask for herself, and her world was quite empty now. She had no one in her heart for whom to pray. 

Yet for awhile she knelt dumb among the lifeless stones, her facehidden, her thoughts with the father whose loss she had scarcelybegun to realise. It might be that God would understand and pity hersilence, she thought drearily to herself. 

The rush of the water drowned all sound but its own, and the memoryof Nick, waiting above, faded from her consciousness like a dream. Herbrain felt numb and heavy still. She did not want to think. She leanedher head against a rock, closing her eyes. The continuous babble ofthe stream was like a lullaby. 

Under its soothing influence she might have slept, a blesseddrowsiness was stealing over her, when suddenly there flashed throughher being a swift warning of approaching danger. Whence it came sheknew not, but its urgency was such that instinctively she started upand looked about her. 

The next instant, with a sound half-gasp, half-cry, she was onher feet, and shrinking back against her sheltering boulder in theparalysis of a great horror. There, within a few yards of her anddrawing nearer, ever nearer, with a beast-like stealth, was a tall, black-bearded tribesman. Transfixed by terror, she stood and gazedat him, waiting dumbly, cold from head to foot, feeling as though hervery heart had turned to stone. 

Nearer he came, and yet nearer, soundlessly over the stones. His eyes, gleaming, devilish, were to her as the eyes of a devouring monster. In her agony she tried to shriek aloud, but her voice was gone, herthroat seemed locked. She was powerless. 

Close to her, for a single instant he paused; then, as in a lightningflash, she saw the narrow, sinewy hand and snake-like arm dart forwardto seize her, felt every muscle in her body stiffen to rigidity inanticipation of its touch, and shrank--shrank in every nerve thoughshe made no outward sign of shrinking. 

But on the instant, with a panther-like spring, sure, noiseless, deadly, another figure leapt suddenly across her vision. Therefollowed a violent struggle in front of her, a confused swaying to andfro, a cry choked instantly and terribly, the tinkling sound of steelfalling upon stone. And then both figures were on the ground almostat her feet, locked together in mortal combat, fighting, fightinglike demons in a silence that throbbed with the tumult of unrestrainedsavagery. 

Later she never could remember how long it took her to realise thatthe second apparition was Nick, or if she had known it from the first. She felt herself hovering upon the brink of a great emptiness, a voidimmense, and yet all her senses were alive and tingling with horror. With agonised perception of what was passing, she yet felt numbed: asthough her body were dead, but still contained a vital, tortured soul. 

And it was thus that she presently saw Nick's face bent above theblack-bearded face of his enemy; and remembered suddenly and horriblya picture she had once seen of the devil in the wilderness. 

With his knees he was gripping the writhing body of his fallen foe. With his hands--it came upon her as she watched with a shock ofanguished comprehension--he was deliberately and with deadly intentionchoking out the man's life. 

"Curse you! Die!" she heard him say and his voice sounded like thesnarl of a wild beast. His upper lip was drawn back, the lower one wasbetween his teeth, and from it the blood dripped continuously upon hishands and upon the dark throat he gripped. 

"Give me that knife!" he suddenly said, with an upward jerk of thehead. 

A dagger was lying almost within his reach, close to her foot. Shecould have kicked it towards him had not her body been fast bound inthat deathly inertia. But her whole soul rose up in wild revolt atthe order. She tried to cry out, to implore him to have mercy, butshe could not make a sound. She could only stand in frozen horror, andwitness this awful thing. 

She saw Nick shift his grip to one hand and reach out with the otherfor the weapon. He grasped it and recovered himself. A great darknesswas descending upon her, but it did not come at once. It hoveredbefore her eyes, and seemed to pass, and again she saw the horrorat her feet; saw Nick, bent to destroy like an eagle above his prey, merciless, full of strength, terrible; saw the man beneath him, writhing, convulsed, tortured; saw his upturned face, and startingeyes; saw the sudden downward swoop of Nick's right hand, the flash ofthe descending steel. 

In her agony she burst the spell that bound her, and shrieking turnedto flee from that awful sight. 

But even as she moved, the darkness came suddenly back upon her, enveloping her, overwhelming her--a darkness that could be felt. Fora little she fought against it frantically, impotently. Then her feetseemed to totter over the edge of a dreadful, formless silence. Sheknew that she fell. 

CHAPTER VI

WHEN STRONG MEN FAIL

"Wake up!" said Nick softly. "Wake up! Don't be afraid. "

But Muriel turned her face from the light with a moan. Memory wingedwith horror was sweeping back upon her, and she wanted never to wakeagain. 

"Wake up!" Nick said again, and this time there was insistence in hisvoice. "Open your eyes, Muriel. There is nothing to frighten you. "

Shuddering, she obeyed him. She was lying once more upon her couch offerns, and he was stooping over her, looking closely into her face. His eyes were extraordinarily bright, like the eyes of an eagle, butthe lids flickered so rapidly that he seemed to be looking through herrather than at her. There was a wound upon his lower lip, and at thesight she shuddered again, closing her eyes. She remembered that thelast time she had looked upon that face, it had been the face of adevil. 

"Oh, go away! Go away!" she wailed. "Let me die!"

"I will go away, " he answered swiftly, "if you will promise to drinkwhat is in this cup. "

He pressed it against her hand, and she took it almost mechanically. "It is only brandy and water, " he said. "You will drink it?"

"If I must, " she answered weakly. 

"You must, " he rejoined, and she heard him rise and move away. Shestrained her ears to listen, but she very soon ceased to hear him; andthen raising herself cautiously, she drank. A warm thrill of life ranthrough her veins with the draught, steadying her, refreshing her. Butit was long before she could bring herself to look round. 

The miniature roar of the stream was the only sound to be heard, andwhen at length she glanced downwards there was no sign anywhere ofthe ghastly spectacle she had just witnessed. She saw the rock behindwhich she had knelt, and again a violent fit of shuddering assailedher. What did that rock conceal?

Nevertheless she presently took courage to rise, looking about herfurtively, half afraid that Nick might pop up at any moment to detainher. For she felt that she could not stay longer in that place, whatever he might say or do. The one idea that possessed her was toget away from him, to escape from his horrible presence, whither sheneither knew nor cared. If he appeared to stop her then, she thoughtthat she would go raving mad. 

But she saw nothing of him as she stood there, and with deep reliefshe began to creep away. Half a dozen yards she covered, and thenstood suddenly still with her heart in her throat. There, immediatelyin front of her, flung prone upon the ground with his face on hisarms, was Nick. He did not move at her coming, did not seem to hear. And the thought came to her to avoid him by a circuit, and yet escape. But something--a queer, indefinable something--made her pause. Why washe lying there? Had he been hurt in that awful struggle? Was he--washe unconscious? Was he--dead?

She fought back the impulse to fly, not for its unworthiness, butbecause she felt that she must know. 

Trembling, she moved a little nearer to the prostrate, motionlessfigure. 

"Nick!" she whispered under her breath. 

He made no sign. 

Her doubt turned to sudden, overmastering fear that pricked herforward in spite of herself. 

"Nick!" she said again, and finding herself close to him she bent andvery slightly touched his shoulder. 

He moved then, and she almost gasped with relief. He turned his headsharply without raising himself, and she saw the grim lines of hislean cheek and jaw. 

"That you, Muriel?" he said, speaking haltingly, spasmodically. "I'mawfully sorry. Fact is--I'm not well. I shall be--better--directly. Goback, won't you?"

He broke off, and lay silent, his hands clenched as if he were inpain. 

Muriel stood looking down at him in consternation. It was her chanceto escape--a chance that might never occur again--but she had nofurther thought of taking it. 

"What is it?" she asked him timidly, "Can I--do anything?"

And then she suddenly saw what was the matter. It burst upon her--astartling revelation. Possibly the sight of those skeleton fistshelped her to enlightenment. She turned swiftly and sped back to theircamping ground. 

In thirty seconds or less, she was back again and stooping over himwith a piece of brown bread in her hand. 

"Eat this, " she ordered, in a tone of authority. 

Nick's face was hidden again. He seemed to be fighting with himself. His voice came at length, muffled and indistinct. 

"No, no! Take it away! I'll have a drain of brandy. And I've got sometobacco left. "

Muriel stooped lower. She caught the words though they were scarcelyaudible. She laid her hand upon his arm, stronger in the moment'semergency than she had been since leaving the fort. 

"You are to eat it, " she said very decidedly. "You shall eat it. Doyou hear, Nick? I know what is the matter with you. You are starving. I ought to have seen it before. "

Nick uttered a shaky laugh, and dragged himself up on to his elbows. "I'm not starving, " he declared. "Take it away, Muriel. Do you thinkI'm going to eat your luncheon, tea, and dinner, and to-morrow'sbreakfast as well?"

"You are going to eat this, " she answered. 

He flashed her a glance of keen curiosity. "Am I?" he said. 

"You must, " she said, speaking with an odd vehemence which latersurprised herself. "Why should you go out of your way to tell me alie? Do you think I can't see?"

Nick raised himself slowly. Something in the situation seemed to havedeprived him of his usual readiness. But he would not take the bread, would not even look at it. 

"I'm better now, " he said. "We'll go back. "

Muriel stood for a second irresolute, then sharply turned her back. Nick sat and watched her in silence. Suddenly she wheeled. "There!"she said. "I've divided it. You will eat this at least. It's absurd ofyou to starve yourself. You might as well have stayed in the fort todo that. "

This was unanswerable. Nick took the bread without further protest. He began to eat, marvelling at his own docility; and suddenly he knewthat he was ravenous. 

There was very little left when at length he looked up. 

"Show me what you have saved for yourself, " he said. 

But Muriel backed away with a short, hysterical laugh. 

He started to his feet and took her rudely by the shoulder. "Doyou mean to say--" he began, almost with violence; and then checkedhimself, peering at her with fierce, uncertain eyes. 

She drew away from him, all her fears returning upon her in a flood;but at her movement he set her free and turned his back. 

"Heaven knows what you did it for, " he said, seeming to control hisvoice with some difficulty. "It wasn't for your own sake, and I won'tpresume to think it was for mine. But when the time comes for handinground rewards, may it be remembered that your offering was somethingmore substantial than a cup of cold water. "

He broke off with a queer sound in the throat, and began to move away. 

But Muriel followed him, an unaccountable sense of responsibilityovercoming her reluctance. 

"Nick!" she said. 

He stood still without turning. She had a feeling that he was puttingstrong restraint upon himself. With an effort she forced herself tocontinue. 

"You want sleep, I know. Will you--will you lie down while I watch?"

He shook his head without looking at her. 

"But I wish it, " she persisted. "I can wake you if--anything happens. "

"You wouldn't dare, " said Nick. 

"I suppose that means you are afraid to trust me, " she said. 

He turned at that. "It means nothing of the sort. But you've had onescare, and you may have another. I think myself that that fellow wasa scout on the look-out for Bassett's advance guard. But Heaven onlyknows what brought him to this place, and there may be others. That'swhy I didn't dare to shoot. "

He paused, his light eyebrows raised, surveying her questioningly; forMuriel had suddenly covered her face with both hands. But in anothermoment she looked up again, and spoke with an effort. 

"Your being awake couldn't lessen the danger. Won't you--please--bereasonable about it? I am doing my best. "

There was a deep note of appeal in her voice, and abruptly Nick gavein. 

He moved back to their resting-place without another word, and flunghimself face downwards beside the nest of fern that he had made forher, lying stretched at full length like a log. 

She had not expected so sudden and complete a surrender. It took herunawares, and she stood looking down at him, uncertain how to proceed. 

But after a few seconds he turned his head towards her and spoke. 

"You'll stay by me, Muriel?"

"Of course, " she answered, that unwonted sense of responsibility stillstrongly urging her. 

He murmured something unintelligible, and stirred uneasily. She knewin a flash what he wanted, but a sick sense of dread held her back. She felt during the silence that followed as though he were pleadingwith her, urging her, even entreating her. Yet still she resisted, standing near him indeed, but with a desperate reluctance at herheart, a shrinking unutterable from the bare thought of any closerproximity to him that was as the instinctive recoil of purity from athing unclean. 

The horror of his deed had returned upon her over-whelmingly with hisbrief reference to it. His lack of emotion seemed to her as hideouscallousness, more horrible than the deed itself. His physicalexhaustion had called her out of herself, but the reaction was doublyterrible. 

Nick said no more. He lay quite motionless, hardly seeming to breathe, and she realised that there was no repose in his attitude. He was noteven trying to rest. 

She wrung her hands together. It could not go on, this tension. Eithershe must yield to his unspoken desire, or he would sit up and cryoff the bargain. And she knew that sleep was a necessity to him. Common-sense told her that he was totally unfit for further hardshipwithout it. 

She closed her eyes a moment, summoning all her strength for thegreatest sacrifice she had ever made. And then in silence she sat downbeside him, within reach of his hand. 

He uttered a great sigh and suffered his whole body to relax. And sheknew by the action, though he did not speak a word, that she had sethis mind at rest. 

Scarcely a minute later, his quiet breathing told her that he slept, but she sat on by his side without moving during the long empty hoursof her vigil. He had trusted her without a question, and, as herfather's daughter, she would at whatever cost prove herself worthy ofhis trust. 

CHAPTER VII

THE COMING OF AN ARMY

Through a great part of the night that followed they tramped steadilysouthward. The stars were Nick's guide, though as time passed he beganto make his way with the confidence of one well-acquainted with hissurroundings. The instinct of locality was a sixth sense with him. Hand in hand, over rocky ground, through deep ravines, by steep anddifficult tracks, they made their desperate way. Sometimes in thedistance dim figures moved mysteriously, revealed by starlight, but none questioned or molested them. They passed from rock to rockthrough the heart of the enemy's country, unrecognised, unobserved. There were times when Nick grasped his revolver under his disguise, ready, ready at a moment's notice, to keep his word to the girl'sfather, should detection be their portion; but each time as the dangerpassed them by he tightened his hold upon her, drawing her forwardwith greater assurance. 

They scarcely spoke throughout the long, long march. Muriel had movedat first with a certain elasticity, thankful to escape at last fromthe horrors of their resting-place. But very soon a great wearinesscame upon her. She was physically unfit for any prolonged exertion. The long strain of the siege had weakened her more than she knew. 

Nevertheless, she kept on bravely, uttering no complaint, urged toutmost effort by the instinctive desire to escape. It was this oneidea that occupied all her thoughts during that night. She shrank witha vivid horror from looking back. And she could not see into the dimblank future. It was mercifully screened from her sight. 

At her third heavy stumble, Nick stopped and made her swallow someraw brandy from his flask. This buoyed her up for a while, but it wasevident to them both that her strength was fast failing. And presentlyhe stopped again, and without a word lifted her in his arms. Shegasped a protest to which he made no response. His arms compassedher like steel, making her feel helpless as an infant. He was limpinghimself, she noticed; yet he bore her strongly, without faltering, sure-footed as a mountain goat over the broken ground, till he foundat length what he deemed a safe halting-place in a clump of stuntedtrees. 

The sunrise revealed a native village standing among rice and cottonfields in the valley below them. 

"I shall have to go foraging, " Nick said. 

But Muriel's nerves that had been tottering on the verge ofcollapse for some time here broke down completely. She clung to himhysterically and entreated him not to leave her. 

"I can't bear it! I can't bear it!" she kept reiterating. "If you go, I must go too. I can't--I can't stay here alone. "

He gave way instantly, seeing that she was in a state of mind thatbordered upon distraction, and that he could not safely leave her. Hesat down beside her, therefore, making her as comfortable as he could;and she presently slept with her head upon his shoulder. It was buta broken slumber, however, and she awoke from it crying wildly thata man was being murdered--murdered--murdered--and imploring him withagonised tears to intervene. 

He quieted her with a steady insistence that gained its end, thoughshe crouched against him sobbing for some time after. As the sun rosehigher her fever increased, but she remained conscious and sufferingintensely, all through the heat of the day. Then, as the evening drewon, she slipped into a heavy stupor. 

It was the opportunity Nick had awaited for hours, and he seized it. Laying her back in the deep shadow of a boulder, he went swiftly downinto the valley. The last light was passing as he strode through thevillage, a gaunt, silent figure in a hillman's dress, a native daggerin his girdle. Save that he had pulled the _chuddah_ well over hisface, he attempted no concealment. 

He glided by a ring of old men seated about a fire, moving like ashadow through the glare. They turned to view him, but he had alreadypassed with the tread of a wolf, and the mud wall of one of thecottages hid him from sight. 

Into this hut he dived as though some instinct guided him. He paid noheed to a woman on a string-bedstead with a baby at her breast, whochattered shrilly at his entrance. Preparations for a meal werein progress, and he scarcely paused before he lighted upon what hesought. A small earthen pitcher stood on the mud floor. He swoopedupon it, caught it up, splashing milk in all directions, clapped hishand yellow and claw-like upon the mouth, and was gone. 

There arose a certain hue and cry behind him, but he was swiftlybeyond detection, a fleeing shadow up the hillside. And the baffledvillagers, returning, found comfort in the reflection that he wasdoubtless a holy man and that his brief visit would surely entail ablessing. 

By the time they arrived at this conclusion, Nick was kneeling by thegirl's side, supporting her while she drank. The nourishment revivedher. She came to herself, and thanked him. 

"You will have some too, " said she anxiously. 

And Nick drank also with a laugh and a joke to cloak his eagerness. That draught of milk was more to him at that moment than the choicestwine of the gods. 

He sat down beside her again when he had thus refreshed himself. Hethought that she was drowsy, and was surprised when presently she laida trembling hand upon his arm. 

He bent over her quickly. "What is it? Anything I can do?"

She did not shrink from him any longer. He could but dimly see herface in the strong shadow cast by the moonlight behind the trees. 

"I want just to tell you, Nick, " she said faintly, "that you will haveto go on without me when the moon sets. You needn't mind about leavingme any more. I shall be dead before the morning comes. I'm not afraid. I think I'm rather glad. I am so very, very tired. "

Her weak voice failed. 

Nick was stooping low over her. He did not speak at once. He only tookthe nerveless hand that lay upon his arm and carried it to his lips, breathing for many seconds upon the cold fingers. 

When at length he spoke, his tone was infinitely gentle, but itpossessed, notwithstanding, a certain quality of arresting force. 

"My dear, " he said, "you belong to me now, you know. You have beengiven into my charge, and I am not going to part with you. "

She did not resist him or attempt to withdraw her hand, but hersilence was scarcely the silence of acquiescence. When she spoke againafter a long pause, there was a piteous break in her voice. 

"Why don't you let me die? I want to die. Why do you hold me back?"

"Why?" said Nick swiftly. "Do you really want me to tell you why?"

But there he checked himself with a sharp, indrawn breath. The nextinstant he laid her hand gently down. 

"You will know some day, Muriel, " he said. "But for the present youwill have to take my reason on trust. I assure you it is a very goodone. "

The restraint of his words was marked by a curious vehemence, but thisshe was too ill at the time to heed. She turned her face away almostfretfully. 

"Why should I live?" she moaned. "There is no one wants me now. "

"That will never be true while I live, " Nick answered steadily, andhis tone was the tone of a man who registers a vow. 

But again she did not heed him. She had suffered too acutely andtoo recently to be comforted by promises. Moreover, she did not wantconsolation. She wanted only to shut her eyes and die. In her weaknessshe had not fancied that he could deny her this. 

And so when presently he roused her by lifting her to resume thejourney, she shed piteous tears upon his shoulder, imploring him toleave her where she was. He would not listen to her. He knew that itwas highly dangerous to rest so close to habitation, and he would notrisk another day in such precarious shelter. 

So for hours he carried her with a strength almost superhuman, forcinghis physical powers into subjection to his will. Though limping badly, he covered several miles of wild and broken country, deserted for themost part, almost incredibly lonely, till towards sunrise he found aresting-place in a hollow high up the side of a mountain, overlookinga winding, desolate pass. 

Muriel was either sleeping or sunk in the stupor of exhaustion. Therewas some brandy left in his flask, and he made her take a little. Butit scarcely roused her, and she was too weak to notice that he did nottouch any himself. 

All through the scorching day that followed, she dozed and woke infeverish unrest, sometimes rambling incoherently till he brought hergravely back, sometimes crying weakly, sometimes making feeble effortsto pray. 

All through the long, burning hours he never stirred away from her. Hesat close to her, often holding her in his arms, for she seemed lessrestless so; and perpetually he gazed out with terrible, bloodshoteyes over the savage mountains, through the long, irregular line ofpass, watching eagle-like, tireless and intent, for the deliverancewhich, if it came at all, must come that way. His face was yellow andsunken, lined in a thousand wrinkles like the face of a monkey; buthis eyes remained marvellously bright. They looked as if they had notslept for years, as if they would never sleep again. He was at the endof his resources and he knew it, but he would watch to the very end. He would die watching. 

As the sun sank in a splendour that transfigured the eternally whitemountain-crest to a mighty shimmer of rose and gold, he turned at lastand looked down at the white face pillowed upon his arm. The eyes wereclosed. The ineffable peace of Death seemed to dwell upon the quietfeatures. She had lain so for a long time, and he had fancied hersleeping. 

He caught his breath, feeling for his flask, and for the first timehis hands shook uncontrollably. But as the raw spirit touched herlips, he saw her eyelids quiver, and a great gasp of relief wentthrough him. As she opened her eyes he stayed his hand. It seemedcruel to bring her back. But the suffering and the half instinctivelook of horror passed from her eyes like a shadow, as they rested uponhim. There was even the very faint flicker of a smile about them. 

She turned her face slightly towards him with the gesture of a childnestling against his breast. Yet though she lay thus in his arms, hefelt keenly, bitterly, that she was very far away from him. 

He hung over her, still holding himself in with desperate strength, not daring to speak lest he should disturb the holy peace that seemedto be drawing all about her. 

The sunset glory deepened. For a few seconds the crags above themglittered golden as the peaks of Paradise. And in the wonderfulsilence Muriel spoke. 

"Do you see them?" she said. 

He saw that her eyes were turned upon the shining mountains. There wasa strange light on her face. 

"See what, darling?" he asked her softly. 

Her eyes came back to him for a moment. They had a thoughtful, wondering look. 

"How strange!" she said slowly. "I thought it was--an eagle. "

The detachment of her tone cut him to the heart. And suddenly the painof it was more than he could bear. 

"It is I--Nick, " he told her, with urgent emphasis. "Surely you knowme!"

But her eyes had passed beyond him again. "Nick?" she questioned toherself. "Nick? But this--this was an eagle. "

She was drawing away from him, and he could not hold her, could noteven hope to follow her whither she went. A great sob broke from him, and in a moment, like the rush of an overwhelming flood from behindgates long closed, the anguish of the man burst its bonds. 

"Muriel!" he cried passionately. "Muriel! Stay with me, look atme, love me! There is nothing in the mountains to draw you. It ishere--here beside you, touching you, holding you. O God, " he prayedbrokenly, "she doesn't understand me. Let her understand, --open hereyes, --make her see!"

His agony reached her, touched her, for a moment held her. She turnedher eyes back to his tortured face. 

"But, Nick, " she said softly, "I can see. "

He bent lower. "Yes?" he said, in a choked voice. "Yes?"

She regarded him with a faint wonder. Her eyes were growing heavy, asthe eyes of a tired child. She raised one hand and pointed vaguely. 

"Over there, " she said wearily. "Can't you see them? Then perhaps itwas a dream, or even--perhaps--a vision. Don't you remember howit went? 'And behold--the mountain--was full--of horses--andchariots--of--fire!' God sent them, you know. "

The tired voice ceased. Her head sank lower upon Nick's breast. Shegave a little quivering sigh, and seemed to sleep. 

And Nick turned his tortured eyes upon the pass below him, and stareddownwards spellbound. 

Was he dreaming also? Or was it perchance a vision--the trick of hisfevered fancy? There, at his feet, not fifty yards from where he sat, he beheld men, horses, guns, winding along in a narrow, unbroken lineas far as he could see. 

A great surging filled his ears, and through it he heard himself shoutonce, twice, and yet a third time to the phantom army below. 

The surging swelled in his brain to a terrific tumult--a confusionindescribable. And then something seemed to crack inside his head. The dark peaks swayed giddily against the darkening sky, and toppledinwards without sound. 

The last thing he knew was the call of a bugle, tense and shrill asthe buzz of a mosquito close to his ear. And he laughed aloud to thinkhow so small a thing had managed to deceive him. 

PART II

CHAPTER VIII

COMRADES

The jingling notes of a piano playing an air from a comic operafloated cheerily forth into the magic silence of the Simla pines, andabruptly, almost spasmodically, a cracked voice began to sing. It wasa sentimental ditty treated jocosely, and its frivolity rippled outinto the mid-day silence with something of the effect of a monkey'schatter. The _khitmutgar_ on the verandah would have lookedscandalised or at best contemptuous had it not been his rôle toexpress nothing but the dignified humility of the native servant. He was waiting for his mistress to come out of the nursery where hervoice could be heard talking imperiously to her baby's _ayah_. He hadalready waited some minutes, and he would probably have waited muchlonger, for his patience was inexhaustible, had it not been for thatsudden irresponsible and wholly tuneless burst of song. But thesecond line was scarcely ended before she came hurriedly forth, nearlyrunning into his stately person in her haste. 

"Oh, dear, Sammy!" she exclaimed with some annoyance. "Why didn't youtell me Captain Ratcliffe was here?"

She hastened past him along the verandah with the words, not troublingabout his explanation, and entered the room whence the music proceededat a run. 

"My dear Nick, " she cried impulsively, "I had no idea!"

The music ceased in a jangle of wrong notes, and Nick sprang to hisfeet, his yellow face wearing a grin of irrepressible gaiety. 

"So I gathered, O elect lady, " he rejoined, seizing her outstretchedhands and kissing first one and then the other. "And I took the firstmethod that presented itself of making myself known. So they beguiledyou to Simla, after all?"

"Yes, I had to come for my baby's sake. They thought at first it wouldhave to be home and no compromise. I'm longing to show him to you, Nick. Only six months, and such a pet already! But tell me aboutyourself. I am sure you have come off the sick list too soon. Youlook as if you had come straight from a lengthy stay with the_bandar-log_. "

"_Tu quoque!_" laughed Nick. "And with far less excuse. Only youmanage to look charming notwithstanding, which is beyond me. Do youknow, Mrs. Musgrave, you don't do justice to the compromise? I shouldbe furious with you if I were Will. "

Mrs. Musgrave frowned at him. She was a very pretty woman, possessinga dainty and not wholly unconscious charm. "Tell me about yourself, Nick, " she commanded. "And don't be ridiculous. You can't possiblyjudge impartially on that head, as you haven't the smallest idea as tohow ill I have been. I am having a rest cure now, you must know, and Idon't go anywhere; or I should have come to see you in hospital. "

"Good thing you didn't take the trouble, " said Nick. "I've beensleeping for the last three weeks, and I am only just awake. "

Mrs. Musgrave looked at him with a very friendly smile. "Poor Nick!"she said. "And Wara was relieved after all. "

He jerked up his shoulders. "After a fashion. Grange was the onlywhite man left, and he hadn't touched food for three days. If MurielRoscoe had stayed, she would have been dead before Bassett gotanywhere near them. There are times when the very fact of sufferingactively keeps people alive. It was that with her. "

He spoke briefly, almost harshly, and immediately turned from thesubject. "I suppose you were very anxious about your cousin?"

"Poor Blake Grange? Of course I was. But I was anxious--horriblyanxious--about you all. " There was a quiver of deep feeling in Mrs. Musgrave's voice. 

"Thank you, " said Nick. He reached out a skeleton finger and laid iton her arm. "I thought you would be feeling soft-hearted, so I havecome to ask you a favour. Not that I shouldn't have come in any case, but it seemed a suitable moment to choose. "

Mrs. Musgrave laughed a little. "Have you ever found me anything butkind?" she questioned. 

"Never, " said Nick. "You're the best pal I ever had, which is theexact reason for my coming here to-day. Mrs. Musgrave, I want you tobe awfully good to Muriel Roscoe. She needs some one to help her alongjust now. "

Mrs. Musgrave opened her eyes wide, but she said nothing at once, forNick had sprung to his feet and was restlessly pacing the room. 

"Come back, Nick, " she said at last. "Tell me a little about her. Wehave never met, you know. And why do you ask this of me when she is inLady Bassett's care?"

"Lady Bassett!" said Nick. He made a hideous grimace, and said nomore. 

Mrs. Musgrave laughed. "How eloquent! Do you hate her, too, then? Ithought all men worshipped at that shrine. "

Nick came back and sat down. "I nearly killed her once, " he said. 

"What a pity you didn't quite!" ejaculated Mrs. Musgrave. 

Nick grinned. "Sits the wind in that quarter? I wonder why. "

"Oh, I hate her by instinct, " declared Mrs. Musgrave recklessly, "though her scented notes to me always begin, 'Dearest Daisy'! Shealways disapproved of me openly till baby came. But she has foundanother niche for me now. I am not supposed to be so fascinating as Iwas. She prefers unattractive women. "

"Gracious heaven!" interjected Nick. 

"Yes, you may laugh. I do myself. " Daisy Musgrave spoke almostfiercely notwithstanding. "She's years older than I am anyhow, and Ishall score some day if I don't now. Have you ever watched her dance?There's a sort of snaky, coiling movement runs up her whole body. Goodness!" breaking off abruptly. "I'm getting venomous myself. I hadbetter stop before I frighten you away. "

"Oh, don't mind me!" laughed Nick. "No one knows better than Ithat she is made to twist all ways. She hates me as a cobra hates amongoose. "

"Really?" Daisy Musgrave was keenly interested. "But why?"

He shook his head. "You had better ask Lady Bassett. It may bebecause I had the misfortune to set fire to her once. It is true Iextinguished her afterwards, but I don't think she enjoyed it. It wasa humiliating process. Besides, it spoilt her dress. "

"But she is always so gracious to you, " protested Daisy. 

"Honey-sweet. That's exactly how I know her cobra feelings. And thatbrings me round to Muriel Roscoe again, and the favour I have to ask. "

Daisy shot him a sudden shrewd glance. "Do you want to marry her?" sheasked him point blank. 

Nick's colourless eyebrows went up till they nearly met his colourlesshair. "Dearest Daisy, " he said, "you are a genius. I mean to do thatvery thing. "

Daisy got up and softly closed the window. "Surely she is very young, "she said. "Is she in love with you?"

She did not turn at the sound of his laugh. She had almost expectedit. For she knew Nick Ratcliffe as very few knew him. The bond ofsympathy between them was very strong. 

"Can you imagine any girl falling in love with me?" he asked. 

"Of course I can. You are not so unique as that. There isn't a man inthe universe that some woman couldn't be fool enough to love. "

"Many thanks!" said Nick. "Then--I may count upon your support, mayI? I know Lady Bassett will put a spoke in my wheel if she can. But Ihave Sir Reginald's consent. He is Muriel's guardian, you know. Also, I had her father's approval in the first place. It has got to be soon, you see, Daisy. The present state of affairs is unbearable. She willbe miserable with Lady Bassett. "

Daisy still stood with her back to him. She was fidgeting with theblind-cord, her pretty face very serious. 

"I am not sure, " she said slowly, "that it lies in my power to helpyou. Of course I am willing to do my best, because, as you say, we arepals. But, Nick, she is very young. And if--if she really doesn't loveyou, you mustn't ask me to persuade her. "

Nick sprang up impulsively. "Oh, but you don't understand, " he saidquickly. "She would be happy enough with me. I would see to that. I--Iwould be awfully good to her, Daisy. "

She turned swiftly at the unwonted quiver in his voice. "My dearNick, " she said earnestly, "I am sure of it. You could make any womanwho loved you happy. But no one--no one--knows the misery that mayresult from a marriage without love on both sides--except those whohave made one. "

There was something almost passionate in her utterance. But she turnedif off quickly with a smile and a friendly hand upon his arm. 

"Come, " she said lightly. "I want to show you my boy. I left himalmost in tears. But he always smiles when he sees his mother. "

"Who doesn't?" said Nick gallantly, following her lead. 

CHAPTER IX

THE SCHOOL OF SORROW

The aromatic scent of the Simla pines literally encircled and pervadedthe Bassetts' bungalow, penetrating to every corner. Lady Bassett waswont to pronounce it "distractingly sweet, " when her visitors drewher attention to the fact. Hers was among the daintiest as well as thebest situated bungalows in Simla, and she was pleasantly aware ofa certain envy on the part of her many acquaintances, which addeda decided relish to the flavour of her own appreciation. Butnotwithstanding this, she was hardly ever to be found at home exceptby appointment. Her social engagements were so numerous that, as sheoften pathetically remarked, she scarcely ever enjoyed the luxury ofsolitude. As a hostess she was indefatigable, and being an excellentbridge-player as well as a superb dancer, it was not surprising thatshe occupied a fairly prominent position in her own select circle. In appearance she was a woman of about five-and-thirty--though themalicious added a full dozen years more to her credit--with fair hair, a peculiarly soft voice, and a smile that was slightly twisted. Shewas always exquisitely dressed, always cool, always gentle, neverhasty in word or deed. If she ever had reason to rebuke or snub, itwas invariably done with the utmost composure, but with deadly effectupon the offender. Lady Bassett was generally acknowledged to beunanswerable at such times by all but the very few who did not fearher. 

There were not many who really felt at ease with her, and MurielRoscoe was emphatically not one of the number. Her father hadnominated Sir Reginald her guardian, and Sir Reginald, aware of thisfact, had sent her at once to his wife at Simla. The girl had been tooill at the time to take any interest in her destination or ultimatedisposal. It was true that she had never liked Lady Bassett, that shehad ever felt shy and constrained in her presence, and that, had shebeen consulted, she would probably have asked to be sent to England. But Sir Reginald had been too absorbed in the task before him to spendmuch thought on his dead comrade's child at that juncture, and hehad followed the simplest course that presented itself, allowing NickRatcliffe to retain the privilege which General Roscoe himself hadbestowed. Thus Muriel had come at last into Lady Bassett's care, andshe was only just awaking to the fact that it was by no means theguardianship she would have chosen for herself had she been in aposition to choose. As the elasticity of her youth gradually asserteditself, and the life began to flow again in her veins, the power tosuffer returned to her, and in the anguish of her awakening facultiesshe knew how utterly she was alone. It was in one sense a relief thatLady Bassett, being caught in the full swing of the Simla season, wasunable to spare much of her society for the suddenly bereaved girl whohad been thrust upon her. But there were times during that period ofdragging convalescence when any presence would have been welcome. 

She was no longer acutely ill, but a low fever hung about her, aspecies of physical inertia against which she had no strength tostruggle. And often she wondered to herself with a dreary amazement, why she still lived, why she had survived the horrors of that flightthrough the mountains, why she had been thus, as it were, cast up upona desert rock when all that had made life good in her eyes had beenruthlessly swept away. At such times there would come upon her aloneliness almost unthinkable, a shrinking more terrible than the fearof death, and the future would loom before her black as night, a blankand awful desert which she felt she could never dare to travel. 

Sometimes in her dreams there would come to her other visions--visionsof the gay world that throbbed so close to her, the world she hadentered with her father so short a time before. She would hear againthe hubbub of laughing voices, the music, the tramp of dancing feet. And she would start from her sleep to find only a great emptiness, alistening silence, an unspeakable desolation. 

If she ever thought of Nick in those days, it was as a phantom thatbelonged to the nightmare that lay behind her. He had no part in herpresent, and the future she could not bring herself to contemplate. Noone even mentioned his name to her till one day Lady Bassett enteredher room before starting for a garden-party at Vice-Regal Lodge, afaint flush on her cheeks, and her blue eyes brighter than usual. 

"I have just received a note from Captain Ratcliffe, dear Muriel, "she said. "I have already mentioned to him that you are too unwell tothink of receiving any one at present, but he announces his intentionof paying you a visit notwithstanding. Perhaps you would like to writehim a note yourself, and corroborate what I have said. "

"Captain Ratcliffe!" Muriel echoed blankly, as though the nameconveyed nothing to her; and then with a great start as the bloodrushed to her white cheeks, "Oh, you mean Nick. I--I had almostforgotten his other name. Does he want to see me? Is he in Simlastill?"

She turned her hot face away with a touch of petulance from thepeculiar look with which Lady Bassett was regarding her. What did shemean by looking at her so, she wondered irritably?

There followed a pause, and Lady Bassett began to fasten hermany-buttoned gloves. 

"Of course, dear, " she said gently, at length, "there is not thesmallest necessity for you to see him. Indeed, if my advice wereasked, I should recommend you not to do so; for after such aterrible experience as yours, one cannot be too circumspect. It is soperilously easy for rumours to get about. I will readily transmit amessage for you if you desire it, though I think on the whole it wouldbe more satisfactory if you were to write him a line yourself to saythat you cannot receive him. "

"Why?" demanded Muriel, with sudden unexpected energy. She turned backagain, and looked at Lady Bassett with a quick gleam that was almost achallenge in her eyes. "Why should I not see him? After all, I supposeI ought to thank him. Besides--besides--why should I not?"

She could not have said what moved her to this unwontedself-assertion. Had Lady Bassett required her to see Nick she wouldprobably have refused to do so, and listlessly dismissed the matterfrom her mind. But there was that in Lady Bassett's manner whichroused her antagonism almost instinctively. But vaguely understanding, she yet resented the soft-spoken words. Moreover, a certainperversity, born of her weakness, urged her. What right had LadyBassett to deny her to any one?

"When is he coming?" she asked. "I will see him when he comes. "

Lady Bassett yielded the point at once with the faintest possibleshrug. "As you wish, dear child, of course; but I do beg of you to beprudent. He speaks of coming this afternoon. But would you not likehim to postpone his visit till I can be with you?"

"No, I don't think so, " Muriel said, with absolute simplicity. 

"Ah, well!" Lady Bassett spoke in the tone of one repudiating allresponsibility. She bent over the girl with a slightly wry smile, andkissed her forehead. "Good-bye, dearest! I shouldn't encourage him tostay long, if I were you. And I think you would be wise to call himCaptain Ratcliffe now that you are living a civilised life once more. "

Muriel turned her face aside with a species of bored patience thatcould scarcely be termed tolerance. She did not understand theseveiled warnings, and she cared too little for Lady Bassett and heropinions to trouble herself about them. She had never liked her, though she knew that her father had conscientiously tried to do so forthe sake of his friend, Sir Reginald. 

As Lady Bassett went away she rubbed the place on her forehead whichher cold lips had touched. "If she only knew how I hate being kissed!"she murmured to herself. 

And then with an effort she rose and moved wearily across the room toring the bell. Since by some unaccountable impulse she had decided tosee Nick, it might be advisable, she reflected, to give her own ordersregarding his visit. 

Having done so, she lay down again. But she did not sleep. Sleep wasan elusive spirit in those days. It sometimes seemed to her that shewas too worn out mentally and physically ever to rest naturally again. 

Nearly an hour passed away while she lay almost unconsciouslylistening. And then suddenly, with a sense of having experienced itall long before, there came to her the sound of careless footsteps andof a voice that hummed. 

It went through her heart like a sword-thrust as she called to mindthat last night at Fort Wara when she had clung to her father for thelast time, and had heard him bid her good-bye--till they should meetagain. 

With a choked sensation she rose, and stood steadying herself by theback of the sofa. Could she go through this interview? Could she bearit? Her heart was beating in heavy, sickening throbs. For an instantshe almost thought of escaping and sending word that she was not equalto seeing any one, as Lady Bassett had already intimated. But even asthe impulse flashed through her brain, she realised that it wastoo late. The shadow of the native servant had already darkened thewindow, and she knew that Nick was just behind him on the verandah. With a great, sobbing gasp, she turned herself to meet him. 

CHAPTER X

THE EAGLE SWOOPS

He came in as lightly and unceremoniously as though they had partedbut the day before, a smile of greeting upon his humorous, yellowface, words of careless good-fellowship upon his lips. 

He took her hand for an instant, and she felt rather than saw thathe gave her a single, scrutinising glance from under eyelids thatflickered incessantly. 

"I see you are better, " he said, "so I won't put you to the troubleof saying so. I suppose dear Lady Bassett has gone to the Vice-Regalgarden-party. But it's all right. I told her I was coming. Did youhave to persuade her very hard to let you see me?"

Muriel stiffened a little at this inquiry. Her agitation was rapidlysubsiding. It left her vaguely chilled, even disappointed. She hadforgotten how cheerily inconsequent Nick could be. 

"I didn't persuade her at all, " she said coldly. "I simply told herthat I should see you in order--"

"Yes?" queried Nick, looking delighted. "In order--"

To her annoyance she felt herself flushing. With a gesture ofweariness she dismissed the sentence and sat down. She had meant tomake him a brief and gracious speech of gratitude for his past care ofher, but somehow it stuck in her throat. Besides, it was quite obviousthat he did not expect it. 

He came and sat down beside her on the sofa. "Let's talk things over, "he said. "You are out of the doctor's hands, I'm told. "

Muriel was leaning back against the cushions. She did not raise herheavy eyes to answer. "Oh, yes, ever so long ago. I'm quite well, onlyrather tired still. "

She frowned slightly as she gave this explanation. Though his facewas not turned in her direction, she had a feeling that he was stillclosely observant of her. 

He nodded to himself twice while he listened and then suddenly hereached out and laid his hand upon both of hers as they rested in herlap. "I'm awfully pleased to hear you are quite well, " he said, ina voice that seemed to crack on a note of laughter. "It makes mybusiness all the easier. I've come to ask you, dear, how soon you canpossibly make it convenient to marry me. To-day? To-morrow? Next week?I don't of course want to hurry you unduly, but there doesn't seem tobe anything to wait for. And--personally--I abhor waiting. Don't you?"

He turned towards her with the last words. He had spoken very gently, but there seemed to be an element of humour in all that he said. 

Muriel's eyes were wide open by the time he ended. She was staringat him in blank astonishment. The flush on her face had deepened tocrimson. 

"Marry you?" she gasped at length, stammering in her confusion. "I?Why--why--whatever made you dream of such a thing?"

"I'll tell you, " said Nick instantly, and quite undismayed. "I dreamedthat a certain friend of mine was lonely and heart-sick and sad. Andshe wanted--horribly--some one to come and take care of her, to cheerher up, to lift her over the bad places, to give her things which, ifthey couldn't compensate for all she had lost, would be anyhow a bitof a comfort to her. And then I remembered how she belonged to me, howshe had been given to me by her own father to cherish and care for. And so I plucked up courage to intrude upon her while she was stillwallowing in her Slough of Despair. And I didn't pester her withpreliminaries. We're past that stage, you and I, Muriel. I simply cameto her because it seemed absurd to wait any longer. And I just askedher humble-like to fix a day when we would get up very early, andbribe the padre and sweet Lady Bassett to do likewise, and have ashort--very short--service all to ourselves at church, and when it wasover we would just say good-bye to all kind friends and depart. Won'tyou give the matter your serious consideration? Believe me, it isworth it. "

He still held her hand closely in his while he poured out his rapidexplanation, and his eyebrows worked up and down so swiftly thatMuriel was fascinated by them. His eyes baffled her completely. Theywere like a glancing flame. She listened to his proposal with moreof bewilderment than consternation. It took her breath away withoutexactly frightening her. The steady grasp of his hand and theexceedingly practical tones of his voice kept her from unreasoningpanic; but she was too greatly astounded to respond very promptly. 

"Tell me what you think about it, " he said gently. 

But she was utterly at a loss to describe her feelings. She shook herhead and was silent. 

After a little he went on, still quickly, but with less impetuosity. "It isn't just a sudden fancy of mine--this. Don't think it. There'snothing capricious about me. Your father knew about it. And because heknew, he put you in my care. It was his sole reason for trusting youto me. I had his full approval. "

He paused, for her fingers had closed suddenly within his own. Shewas looking at him no longer. Her memory had flashed back to that lastterrible night of her father's life. Again she heard him telling herof the one man to whom he had entrusted her, who would make it hissole business to save her, who would protect her life with his own, heard his speculative question as to whether she knew whom he meant, recalled her own quick reply, and his answer--and his answer. 

With a sudden sense of suffocation, she freed her hand and rose. Oncemore her old aversion to this man swept over her in a nauseating wave. Once more there rose before her eyes the dread vision which for many, many nights had haunted her persistently, depriving her of allrest, all peace of mind--the vision of a man in his death-struggle, fighting, agonising, under those merciless fingers. 

It was more than she could bear. She covered her eyes, striving toshut out the sight that tortured her weary brain. "Oh, I don't know ifI can!" she almost wailed. "I don't know if I can!"

Nick did not move. And yet it seemed to her in those moments ofreawakened horror as if by some magnetic force he still held her fast. She strove against it with all her frenzied strength, but it eludedher, baffled her--conquered her. 

When he spoke at length, she turned and listened, lacking themotive-power to resist. 

"There is nothing to frighten you anyhow, " he said, and the tone inwhich he said it was infinitely comforting, infinitely reassuring. "Ionly want to take care of you; for you're a lonely little soul, notold enough, or wise enough to look after yourself. And I'll be awfullygood to you, Muriel, if you'll have me. "

Something in those last words--a hint of pleading, of coaxingeven--found its way to her heart, as it were, against her will. Moreover, what he said was true. She was lonely: miserably, unspeakably lonely. All her world was in ashes around her, and therewere times when its desolation positively appalled her. 

But still she stood irresolute. Could she, dared she, take this step?What if that phantom of horror pursued her relentlessly to the day ofher death? Would she not come in time to shrink with positive loathingfrom this man whose offer of help she now felt so strangely tempted inher utter friendlessness to accept?

It was impossible to answer these tormenting questions satisfactorily. But there was nothing--so she told herself--to be gained by waiting. She had no one to advise her, no one really to mind what happened toher, with the single exception of this friend of hers, who onlywanted to take care of her. And after all, since misery was to be herportion, what did it matter? Why should she refuse to listen to him?Had he not shown her already that he could be kind?

A sudden warmth of gratitude towards him stirred in her heart--a tinyflame springing up among the ashes of her youth. Her horror sank awaylike an evil dream. 

She turned round with a certain deliberation that had grown upon herof late, and went back to Nick still seated on the sofa. 

"I don't care much what I do now, " she said wearily. "I will marryyou, if you wish it, if--if you are quite sure you will never wish youhadn't. "

"Well done!" said Nick, with instant approval. "That's settled then, for I was quite sure of that ages ago. "

He smiled at her quizzically, his face a mask of banter. Of what hisactual feelings were at that moment she had not the faintest idea. 

With a piteous little smile in answer she laid her hand upon his knee. "You will have to be very patient with me, " she said tremulously. "Forremember--I have come to the end of everything, and you are the onlyfriend I have left. "

He took her hand into his own again, with a grasp that was warm andcomforting. "My dear, " he said very kindly, "I shall always rememberthat you once told me so. "

CHAPTER XI

THE FIRST FLIGHT

Muriel lay awake for hours that night, going over and over thatinterview with Nick till her tired brain reeled. She was not exactlyfrightened by this new element that had come into her life. The veryfact of having something definite to look forward to was a reliefafter dwelling for so long in the sunless void of non-expectancy. Butshe was by no means sure that she welcomed so violent a disturbance atthe actual heart of her darkened existence. She could not, moreover, wholly forget her fear of the man who had saved her by main force fromthe fate she would fain have shared with her father. His patience--hisalmost womanly gentleness--notwithstanding, she could not forgetthe demon of violence and bloodshed that she knew to be hidden awaysomewhere behind that smiling, yellow mask. 

She marvelled at herself for her tame surrender, but she felt it tobe irrevocable nevertheless. So broken was she by adversity, that shelacked the energy to resist him or even to desire to do so. She triedto comfort herself with the thought that she was carrying out herfather's wishes for her; but this did not take her very far. She couldnot help the doubt arising as to whether he had ever really gaugedNick's exceedingly elusive character. 

Tired out, at last she slept, and dreamed that an eagle had caught herand was bearing her swiftly, swiftly, through wide spaces to his eyriein the mountains. 

It was a long, breathless flight fraught with excitement and anameless exultation that pierced her like pain. She awoke from itwith a cry that was more of disappointment than relief, and started upgasping to hear horses' hoofs dancing in the compound below her windowto the sound of a cracked, hilarious voice. 

She almost laughed as she realised what it was, and in a moment allher misgivings of the night vanished like wraiths of the darkness. He had extracted a promise from her to ride with him at dawn, and hemeant to keep her to it. She got up and pulled aside the blind. 

A wild view-halloa greeted her, and she dropped it again sharply;but not before she had seen Nick prancing about the drive on a giddy, long-limbed Waler, and making frantic signs to her to join him. Another horse with a side-saddle was waiting, held by a grinninglittle _saice_. The sun was already rising rapidly behind themountains. She began to race through her toilet at a speed that showedher to have caught some of the fever of her cavalier's impatience. 

She wondered what Lady Bassett thought of the disturbance (LadyBassett never rose early), and nearly laughed aloud. 

Hastening out at length she found Nick dismounted and waiting for herby the verandah-steps. He sprang up to meet her with an eager whoop ofgreeting. 

"Hope you enjoyed my serenade. Come along! There's no time to waste. Jakko turned red some minutes ago. Were you asleep?"

Muriel admitted the fact. 

"And dreaming of me, " he rattled on, "as was sweet and proper?"

She did not answer, and he laughed like a boy, rudely but notinsolently. 

"Didn't I know it? Jump up! We're going to have a glorious gallop. I've brought some slabs of chocolate to keep you from starvation. Ready? Heave ho! My dear girl, you're disgracefully light still. Whydon't you eat more?"

"You're as thin as a herring yourself, " Muriel retorted, with a mostunwonted flash of spirit. 

He lifted his grinning face to her as she settled herself in thesaddle, and then uncovering swiftly he bent and kissed the black clothof her habit, humbly, reverently, as became a slave. 

It sent a queer thrill through her, that kiss of his. She felt thatit was in some fashion a revelation; but she was still too blinded bygroping in dark places to understand its message. As they trotted sideby side out of the compound, she knew her face was burning, and turnedit aside that he might not see. 

It was a wonderful morning. There was intoxication in the scent of thepines. The whole atmosphere seemed bewitched. They gave their horsesthe rein and raced with the wind through an enchanted world. It wasthe wildest, most alluring ride that she had ever known, and when Nickcalled a halt at last she protested with a flushed face and sparklingeyes. 

Nevertheless, it was good to sit and watch the rapid transformationthat the sun-god was weaving all about them. She saw the spurs ofJakko fade from pink to purest amber, and then in the passage of afew seconds gleam silver in the flood of glory that topped the highestcrests. And her heart fluttered oddly at the sight, while again shethought of the eagle of her dream, cleaving the wide spaces, andbearing her also. 

She glanced round for Nick, but he had wheeled his horse and wasstaring out towards the plains. She wondered what was passing in hismind, for he sat like a statue, his face turned from her. And suddenlythe dread loneliness of the mountains gripped her as with a chillyhand. It seemed as if they two were alone together in all the world. 

She walked over to him. "I'm cold, Nick, " she said, breaking in uponhis silence almost apologetically. "Shall we go?"

He stretched out a hand to her without turning his head, withoutspeaking. But she would not put her own within it, for she was afraid. 

After a long pause he gave a sudden sharp sigh, and pulled his horseround. "Eh? Cold? We'll fly down to Annandale. There's plenty oftime before us. By the way, I want to introduce you to a friend ofmine--Daisy Musgrave. Ever heard of her? She and Blake Grange arefirst cousins. You'll like Daisy. We are great chums, she and I. "

Muriel had heard of her from Captain Grange. She had also once upon atime met Daisy's husband. 

"I liked him, rather, " she said. "But I thought he must be veryyoung. "

"So he is, " said Nick. "A mere infant. He's in the Civil Service, andworks like an ox. Mrs. Musgrave is very delicate. She and the babywere packed off up here in a hurry. I believe she has a weak heart. She may have to go home to recruit even now. She doesn't go out at allherself, but she hopes I will take you to see her. Will you come?"

Muriel hesitated for a moment. "Nick, " she said, "are youtelling--everybody--of our--engagement?"

"Of course, " said Nick, instantly. "Why not?"

She could not tell him, only she was vaguely dismayed. 

"I told Lady Bassett yesterday evening, " he went on. "Didn't she sayanything to you?"

"Oh, yes. She kissed me and said she was very pleased. " Muriel'scheeks burned at the recollection. 

"How nice of her!" commented Nick. He shot her a sidelong glance. "Dear Lady Bassett always says and does the right thing at the rightmoment. It's her speciality. That's why we are all so fond of her. "

Muriel made no response, though keenly aware of the subtlety of thisspeech. So Nick disliked her hostess also. She wondered why. 

"You see, " he proceeded presently, "it is as well to be quite openabout it as we are going to be married so soon. Of course every onerealises that it is to be a strictly private affair. You needn't beafraid of any demonstration. "

It was not that that had induced her feeling of dismay, but she couldnot tell him so. 

"And Mrs. Musgrave knows?" she questioned. 

"I told her first, " said Nick. "But you mustn't mind her. She won'tcommit the fashionable blunder of congratulating you. "

Muriel laughed nervously. She longed to say something careless andchange the subject, but she was feeling stiff and unnatural, and wordsfailed her. 

Nick brought his horse up close to hers. 

"There's one thing I want to say to you, Muriel, before we go down, "he said. 

"Oh, what?" She turned a scared face towards him. 

"Nothing to alarm you, " said Nick, frowning at her quizzically. "Iwanted to say it some minutes ago only I was shy. Look here, dear. " Heheld out to her a twist of tissue-paper on the palm of his hand. "It'sa ring I want you to wear for me. There's a message inside it. Read itwhen you are alone. "

Muriel looked at the tiny packet without taking it. She had turnedvery white. "Oh, Nick, " she faltered at last, "are you--are you--quitesure?"

"Quite sure of what?" questioned Nick. "Your mind? Or my own?"

"Don't!" she begged tremulously. "I can't laugh over this. "

"Laugh!" said Nick sharply. And then swiftly his whole manner changed. "Yes, it's all right, dear, " he said, smiling at her. "Take it, won'tyou? I am--quite--sure. "

She took it obediently, but her reluctance was still very manifest. Nick, however, did not appear to notice this. 

"Don't look at it now, " he said. "Wait till I'm not there. Put it awaysomewhere for the present, and let's have another gallop. "

She glanced at him as she slipped his gift into her pocket. "Won't youlet me thank you, Nick?" she asked shyly. 

"Wait till you've seen it, " he returned. "You may not think it worthit. Ready? One! Two! Three!"

In the scamper that followed, the blood surged back to her face, andher spirits rose again; but in her secret heart there yet remained anameless dread that she was as powerless to define as to expel. 

CHAPTER XII

THE MESSAGE

Lady Bassett was still invisible when Muriel returned to the bungalowthough breakfast was waiting for them on the verandah. She passedquickly through to her room and commenced hasty preparations for abath. It had been a good ride, and she realised that, though tired, she was also very hungry. 

She slipped Nick's gift out of the pocket of her riding-habit, but shewould not stop to open it then. That should come presently, whenshe had the whole garden to herself, and all the leisure of the longsummer morning before her. She felt that in a sense she owed him that. 

But a note that caught her eye lying on the table she paused to openand hastily peruse. The writing was unfamiliar to her--a dashing, impetuous scrawl that excited her curiosity. 

"Dear Miss Roscoe, " it ran, --"Don't think me an unmitigated bore ifyou can help it. I am wondering if you would have the real kindnessto waive ceremony and pay me a visit this afternoon. I shall be quitealone, unless my baby can be considered in the light of a socialinducement. I know that Nick contemplates bringing you to see me, andso he shall, if you prefer it. But personally I consider that he wouldbe decidedly _de trop_. I feel that we shall soon know each other sowell that a formal introduction seems superfluous. Let me know youropinion by word of mouth, or if not, I shall understand. Nick, beingof the inferior species, could hardly be expected to do so, though Iadmit that he is more generously equipped in the matter of intellectthan most. --Your friend to be, "Daisy Musgrave. "

Muriel laid down the letter with a little smile. Its spontaneousfriendliness was like a warm hand clasping hers. Yes, she would go, she decided, as she splashed refreshingly in her bath, and that notfor Nick's sake. She knew instinctively that she was going to discovera close sympathy with this woman who, though an utter stranger to her, yet knew how to draw her as a sister. And Muriel's longing for suchhuman fellowship had already driven her to extremes. 

She had the note in her hand when she finally joined Lady Bassett uponthe verandah. 

Lady Bassett, though ever-gracious, was seldom at her best in themorning. She greeted the girl with a faint, wry smile, and profferedher nearest cheek to be kissed. 

"Quite an early bird, dear child!" was her comment. "I should imagineCaptain Ratcliffe's visitation awakened the whole neighbourhood. Ithink you must not go out again with him before sunrise. I should nothave advised it this morning if you had consulted me. "

Muriel flushed at the softly-conveyed reproof. "It is not the firsttime, " she said, in her deep voice that was always deepest whenindignation moved her. "We have seen the sun rise together and themoon rise too, before to-day. "

Lady Bassett sighed gently. "I am sure, dearest, " she said, "that youdo not mean to be uncouth or unmannerly, far less--that most odiousof all propensities in a young girl--forward. But though my authorityover you were to be regarded as so slight as to be quite negligible, Ishould still feel it my duty to remonstrate when I saw you committinga breach of the conventions which might be grievously misconstrued. Itrust, dear Muriel, that you will bear my protest in mind and regulateyour actions by it in the future. Will you take coffee?"

Muriel had seated herself at the other side of the table, and wasregarding her with wide, dark eyes that were neither angry norashamed, only quite involuntarily disdainful. 

After a distinct pause she decided to let the matter drop, reflectingthat Lady Bassett's subtleties were never worth pursuing. 

"I am going to see a friend of Nick's this afternoon, " she saidpresently. "I expect you know her--Mrs. Musgrave. "

Lady Bassett's forehead puckered a little. It could hardly be called afrown. "Have you ever met Mrs. Musgrave?" she asked. 

"No, never. But she is Nick's friend, and of course I know her cousin, Captain Grange, quite well. "

Lady Bassett made no comment upon this. "Of course, dear, " she said, "you are old enough to please yourself, but it is not usual, youknow, to plunge into social pleasures after so recent a bereavement asyours. "

The sudden silence that followed this gentle reminder had in itsomething that was passionate. Muriel's face turned vividly crimson, and then gradually whitened to a startling pallor. 

"It is the last thing I should wish to do, " she said, in a stifledvoice. 

Lady Bassett continued, softly suggestive. "I say nothing of yourmarriage, dear child. For that, I am aware, is practically a matterof necessity. But I do think that under the circumstances you canscarcely be too careful in what you do. Society is not charitablyinclined towards those who even involuntarily transgress its rules. And you most emphatically are not in a position to do so wilfully. "

She paused, for Muriel had risen unexpectedly to her feet. Her eyeswere blazing in her white face. 

"Why should you call my marriage a matter of necessity?" she demanded. "Sir Reginald told me that my father had provided for me. "

"Of course, of course, dear. " Lady Bassett uttered a faint, artificiallaugh. "It is not a question of means at all. But, there, since youare so childishly unsophisticated, I need not open your eyes. It isenough for you to know that there is a sufficiently urgent reason foryour marriage, and the sooner it can take place, the better. But inthe meantime, let me counsel you to be as prudent as possible in allthat you do. I assure you, dear, it is very necessary. "

Muriel received this little homily in silence. She did not in theleast understand to what these veiled allusions referred, andshe decided impatiently that they were unworthy of her seriousconsideration. It was ridiculous to let herself be angry with LadyBassett. As if it mattered in the least what she said or thought! Shedetermined to pay her projected visit notwithstanding, and quietlysaid so, as she turned at length from the table. 

Lady Bassett raised no further remonstrance beyond a faint, eloquentlift of the shoulders. And Muriel went away into the shady compound, her step firmer and her dark head decidedly higher than usual. Shefelt for Nick's gift as she went, with a little secret sensation ofpleasure. After all, why had she been afraid? All girls wore ringswhen they became engaged to be married. 

Reaching her favourite corner, she drew it forth from itshiding-place, a quiver of excitement running through her. 

She was sitting in the hammock under the pines as she unwrapped it. The hot sunshine, glinting through the dark boughs overhead, flashedupon precious stones and dazzled her as the wisp of tissue-paper fellfrom her hand. 

And in a moment she was looking at an old marquise ring of rubies ina setting of finely-wrought gold. Her heart gave a throb of sheerdelight at the beauty of the thing. She slipped it impetuously on toher finger, and held it up to the sunlight. 

The rubies shone with a deep lustre--red, red as heart's blood, ardentas flame. She gazed and gazed with sparkling, fascinated eyes. 

Suddenly his words flashed into her mind. A message inside it! She hadbeen so caught by the splendour of the stones that she had not lookedinside. She drew the ring from her finger, and examined it closely, with burning cheeks. 

Yes, there was the message--three words engraved in minute, old-fashioned characters inside the gold band. They were so tiny thatit took her a long time to puzzle them out. With difficulty at lengthshe deciphered the quaint letters, but even then it was some timebefore she grasped the meaning that they spelt. 

It flashed upon her finally, as though a voice had spoken into herear. The words were: OMNIA VINCIT AMOR. And the ring in her handwas no longer the outward visible sign of her compact. It was alove-token, given to her by a man who had spoken no word of love. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE VOICE OF A FRIEND

"So you didn't bring Nick after all. That was nice of you, " said DaisyMusgrave, with a little, whimsical smile. "I wanted to have you all tomyself. The nicest of men can be horribly in the way sometimes. "

She smiled upon her visitor whom she had placed in the easiest chairand in the pleasantest corner of her drawing-room. Her pretty face wasaglow with friendliness. No words of welcome were needed. 

Muriel was already feeling happier than she had felt for many, manyweary weeks. It had been an effort to come, but she was glad that shehad made it. 

"It was kind of you to ask me, " she said, "though of course I knowthat you did it for Nick's sake. "

"You are quite wrong, " Daisy answered instantly. "He told me aboutyou, I admit. But after that, I wanted you for your own. And now Ihave got you, Muriel, I am not going to stand on ceremony the leastbit in the world. And you mustn't either; but I can see you won't. Your eyes are telling me things already. I don't get on with stiffpeople somehow. Lady Bassett calls me effusive. And I think myselfthere must have been something meteoric about my birth star. Doubtlessthat is why I agree so well with Nick. He's meteoric, too. " Sheslipped cosily down upon a stool by Muriel's side. "He's a nice boy, isn't he?" she said sympathetically. "And is that his ring? Ah, letme look at it! I think I have seen it before. No, don't take it off!That's unlucky. "

But Muriel had already drawn it from her finger. "It's beautiful, " shesaid warmly. "Do you know anything about it? It looks as if it had ahistory. "

"It has, " said Daisy. "I remember now. He showed it to me once when Iwas staying at his brother's house in England. I know the Ratcliffeswell. My husband used to live with them as a boy. It came from the oldmaiden aunt who left him all his money. She gave it to him before shedied, I believe, and told him to keep it for the woman he was sure tolove some day. Nick was an immense favourite of hers. "

"But the ring?" urged Muriel. 

Daisy was frowning over the inscription within it, but she was fullyaware of the soft colour that had flooded the girl's face at herwords. 

"OMNIA VINCIT AMOR, " she read slowly. "That is it, isn't it? Ah, yes, and the history of it. It's rather sad. Do you mind?"

"I am used to sad things, " Muriel reminded her, with her face turnedaway toward the mountains. 

Daisy pressed her hand gently. "It is a French ring, " she said. "Itbelonged to an aristocrat who was murdered in the Reign of Terror. He sent it by his servant to the girl he loved from the steps of theguillotine. I don't know their names. Nick didn't tell me that. Butshe was English. "

Muriel had turned quickly back. Her interest was aroused. "Yes, " shesaid eagerly, as Daisy paused. "And she?"

"She!" Daisy's voice had a sudden hard ring in it. "She remainedfaithful to him for just six months. And then she married anEnglishman. It was said that she did it against her will. Still shedid it. Luckily for her, perhaps, she died within the year--when herchild was born. "

Daisy rose abruptly and moved across the room. "That was more than ahundred years ago, " she said, "and women are as great fools still. Ifthey can't marry the man they love--they'll marry--anything. "

Muriel was silent. She felt as if she had caught sight of somethingthat she had not been intended to see. 

But in a moment Daisy came back, and, kneeling beside her, slipped thering on to her finger again. "Yet love conquers all the same, dear, "she said, passing her arm about the girl. "And yours is going to bea happy love story. The ring came finally into the possession of thelady's grandson, and it was he who gave it to Nick's aunt--the maidenaunt. It was her engagement ring. She never wore any other, and sheonly gave it to Nick when her fingers were too rheumatic to wear itany longer. Her lover, poor boy, was killed in the Crimea. There!Forgive me if I have made you sad. Death is not really sad, youknow, where there is love. People talk of it as if it conquered love, whereas it is in fact all the other way round. Love conquers death. "

Muriel hid her face suddenly on Daisy's shoulder. "Oh, are you quitesure?" she whispered. 

"I am quite sure, darling. " The reply was instant and full ofconviction. "It doesn't need a good woman to be quite sure of that. Over and over again it has been the only solid thing I have had tohold by. I've clung to it blindly in outer darkness, God only knowshow often. "

Her arms tightened about Muriel, and she fell silent. For minutes theroom was absolutely quiet. Then Muriel raised her head. 

"Thank you, " she whispered. "Thank you so much. "

Her eyes were full of tears as her lips met Daisy's, but she brushedthem swiftly away before they fell. 

Daisy was smiling at her. "Come, " she said, "I want to show you mybaby. He is just the wee-est bit fractious, as he is cutting a tooth. The doctor says he will be all right, but he still threatens to sendus both to England. "

"And you don't want to go?" questioned Muriel. 

Daisy shook her head. "I want to see my cousin Blake, " she saidlightly, "when he comes marching home again. Did you hear the rumourthat he is to have the V. C. ? They ought to give it to Nick, too, if hedoes. "

"Oh, I shouldn't think so. Nick didn't do anything. At least, " Murielstumbled a little, "nothing to be proud of. "

Daisy laughed and caught her face between her hands. "Except save hisgirl from destruction, " she said. "Doesn't that count? Oh, Muriel, Iknow exactly what made him want you. No, you needn't be afraid. I'mnot going to tell you. Wild horses sha'n't drag it from me. But he'sthe luckiest man in India, and I think he knows it. What lovely hairyou have! I'll come round early on your wedding-day and do it foryou. And what will you wear? It mustn't be a black wedding whateveretiquette may decree. You look too pathetic in black, and it's abarbarous custom anyway. I have warned my husband fairly that if hegoes into mourning for me, I'll never speak to him hereafter again. He is coming up to see us next week, and to discuss our fate with thedoctor. Have you ever met Will?"

"Once, " said Muriel. "It was at a dance at Poonah early last summer. "

"Ah! When I was at Mahableshwar. He is a good dancer, isn't he? Hedoes most things well, I think. "

Daisy smiled tolerantly as she indicated the photograph of a boyupon the mantelpiece. "He isn't sixteen, " she said; "he is nearlytwenty-eight. Now come and see his son and the light of my eyes. " Shelinked her arm in Muriel's, and, still smiling, led her from the room. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE POISON OF ADDERS

The week that followed that first visit of hers was a gradual renewalof life to Muriel. She had come through the darkest part of hertrouble, and, thick though the shadows might still lie about her, shehad at last begun to see light ahead. She went again and yet again tosee Daisy, and each visit added to her tranquillity of mind. Daisy waswonderfully brisk for an invalid, and her baby was an endless sourceof interest. Even Lady Bassett could not cavil when her charge spokeof going to nursery tea at Mrs. Musgrave's. She made no attempt tocheck the ripening friendship, though Muriel was subtly aware that shedid not approve of it. 

She also went every morning for a headlong gallop with Nick who, infact, would take no refusal in the matter. He came not at all to thehouse except for these early visits, and she had a good many hoursto herself. But her health was steadily improving, and her lonelinessoppressed her less than formerly. She spent long mornings lying in thehammock under the pines with only an occasional monkey far above herto keep her company. It was her favourite haunt, and she grew to lookupon it as exclusively her own. There was a tiny rustic summer-housenear it, which no one ever occupied, so far as she knew. Moreover, the hammock had been decorously slung behind it, so that even thougha visitor might conceivably penetrate as far as the arbour, it wasextremely unlikely that the hammock would come into the range ofdiscovery. 

Even Lady Bassett had never sought her here, her time being generallyquite fully occupied with her countless social engagements. Murieloften wondered that that garden on the mountainside in which sherevelled seemed to hold so slight an attraction for its owner. Butthen of course Lady Bassett was so much in demand that she had littleleisure to admire the beauties that surrounded her. 

Growing daily stronger, Muriel's half-childish panic regarding herapproaching marriage as steadily diminished. She enjoyed her rideswith Nick, becoming daily more and more at her ease with him. Theyseldom touched upon intimate matters. She wore his ring, and onceshe shyly thanked him for it. But he made no further reference to thewords engraved within it, and she was relieved by his forbearance. 

Nick, on his part, was visiting Daisy Musgrave every day, andsedulously imbibing her woman's wisdom. He had immense faith in herinsight and her intuition, and when she entreated him to moveslowly and without impatience he took a sterner grip of himself andresolutely set himself to cultivate the virtue she urged upon him. 

"You mustn't do anything in a hurry, " Daisy assured him, "eitherbefore your marriage or after. She has had a very bad shock, and sheis only just getting over it. You will throw everything back if youtry to precipitate matters. She is asleep, you know, Nick, and it isfor you to waken her, but gradually--oh, very gradually--or she willstart up in the old nightmare terror again. If she doesn't love youyet, she is very near it. But you will only win her by waiting forher. Never do anything sudden. Always remember what a child she is, though she has outgrown her years. And children, you know, though theywill trust those they love to the uttermost, are easily frightened. "

Nick knew that she was right. He knew also that he was steadilygaining ground, and that knowledge helped him more than all Daisy'scounsels. He was within sight, so he felt, of the great consummationof all his desires, and he was drawing daily nearer. 

Their wedding-day was little more than a week away. He had alreadymade full preparation for it. It was to be as quiet a ceremony as itwas possible to arrange. Daisy Musgrave had promised to be there, andhe expected her husband also. Lady Bassett, whose presence he realisedwith a grimace to be indispensable, would complete the wedding-party. 

He had arranged to leave Simla directly the service was over, and togo into Nepal. It would not be his first visit to that most wonderfulcountry, and it held many things that he desired to show her. Heexpected much from that wedding journey, from the close companionship, the intimacy that must result. He would teach her first beyond alldoubting that she had nothing to fear, and then--then at last, asthe reward of infinite patience, he would win her love. His bloodquickened whenever he thought of it. Alone with her once more amongthe mountains, in perfect security, surrounded by the glory of theeternal snows, so he would win her. They would come back closelyunited, equipped to face the whole world hand-in-hand, so joinedtogether that no shadow of evil could ever come between them any more. For they would be irrevocably made one. Thus ran the current ofhis splendid dream, and for this he curbed himself, mastered hiseagerness, controlled his passion. 

On the day that Daisy's husband arrived, he considerately absentedhimself from their bungalow, knowing how the boy loved to have hiswife to himself. He had in consequence the whole afternoon athis disposal, and he contemplated paying a surprise visit to hisbetrothed. He had ridden with her that morning, and he did not doubtthat she was to be found somewhere in Lady Bassett's compound. So infact she was, and had he carried out his first intention, he wouldhave explored behind the summer-house and found her in her retreat. But he did not after all pay his projected visit. A very small matterfrustrated his plans--a matter of no earthly importance, but which healways looked upon afterwards as a piece of the devil's own handiwork. He remembered some neglected correspondence, and decided to clear itoff. She would not be expecting him, possibly she might not welcomehis intrusion. And so, in consequence of that rigid self-restraintthat he was practising, he suffered this latter reflection to swayhim in the direction of his unanswered letters, and sat down to hiswriting-table with a strong sense of virtue, utterly unsuspicious ofthe evil which even at that moment was drawing near imperceptibly butsurely to the girl he loved. 

She was lying in her hammock with an unread book on her knees. Itwas a slumberous afternoon, making for drowsiness. The mountains werewrapped in a vague haze, and the whole world was very still. Very faroverhead, the pines occasionally whispered to one another, but belowthere was no movement, save when a lizard scuttled swiftly over thepine-needles, and once when an enquiring monkey-face peered at herround the red bole of a pine. 

It was all very restful, and Muriel was undeniably sleepy. She hadridden farther than usual with Nick that morning, and it did not takemuch to tire her. Lady Bassett had gone to a polo-match, she knew, andshe luxuriated in undisturbed solitude. It lay all about her likea spell of enchantment. With her cheek pillowed on her hand shepresently floated into serene slumber. It was like drifting down atidal river into a summer sea.... 

Her awakening was abrupt, almost startling. She felt as if someone had touched her, though she realised In a moment that this wasimpossible; for she was still alone. No one was in sight. Only fromthe arbour a few feet away there came the sound of voices, and thetinkle of tea-cups. 

Visitors evidently! Lady Bassett had returned and brought back acouple of guests with her. She frowned impatiently over the discovery, realising that she was a prisoner unless she elected to show herself. For her corner behind the summer-house was bounded by the wall of thecompound, and there was no retreat save by the path that led to thebungalow, and this wound in front of the arbour itself. 

It was very annoying, but there was no help for it. She knew veryfew people in Simla, and neither of the voices that mingled with LadyBassett's was familiar to her. It did not take her long to decide thatshe had no desire for a closer acquaintance with their owners. Onewas a man's voice, sonorous and weighty, that sounded as if it wereaccustomed to propound mighty problems from the pulpit. The other wasa woman's, high-pitched as the wail of a cat on a windy night, thatcaused the listening girl to nestle back on her pillow with theinstant resolution to remain where she was until the intruders saw fitto depart, even if by so doing she had to forego her tea. 

She opened her book with an unwarrantable feeling of resentment. Ofcourse Lady Bassett could not know she was there, and of course shewas at liberty to go whither she would in her own garden. But no onelikes to have their cherished privacy invaded even in ignorance. And Lady Bassett might surely have concluded that she would be outsomewhere under the pines. 

Well, they probably would not stay for long, and she was in no hurry. With a faint sigh of lingering annoyance she began to read. 

But the piercing, feline voice soon pounded flail-like into herconsciousness, scattering her thoughts with ruthless insistence. 

"Of course, " it asserted, "it was the only thing he could possibly do. No man with any decent feeling could have done otherwise. But it was alittle hard on him. Surely you agree with me there?"

Lady Bassett's voice, soft and precise, made answer. "Indeed I thinkhe has behaved most generously in the matter. As you say, it wouldhave been but a gentleman's duty to make an offer of marriage, considering all the circumstances. But he went further than that. Heactually insisted upon the arrangement. I suppose he felt bound todo so as the poor child's father had placed her in his charge. Sheis quite unformed still, and is very far from realising her graveposition. Indeed, I scarcely expected her to accept him without theurgent reason for the match being explained to her; for it is quiteobvious that she does not care for him in that way. Poor child, she isscarcely old enough to know the true meaning of love. It is very sadfor them both. "

A gentle sigh closed the sentence. Muriel's book had slid down upona cushion of pine-needles. She had raised herself in the hammock, andwas staring at the rustic woodwork of the summer-house as though shesaw a serpent twining there. 

There followed a brief silence. Then came the man's voice, deliberateand resounding. 

"I am sure it must have caused you much anxiety, dear Lady Bassett. With my knowledge of Nicholas Ratcliffe I confess that I should havefelt very grave misgivings as to whether he were endowed with thechivalry to fulfil the obligation he had incurred. My esteem for himhas increased fourfold since I heard of his intention to shoulder hisresponsibilities thus courageously. I had not deemed him capable ofsuch a sacrifice. I sincerely trust that he will be given strength tocarry it through worthily. "

"I shall not feel really easy till they are married, " confessed LadyBassett. 

"Ah!" The sonorous voice broke in again with friendly reproof. "But--pardon me--does not that indicate a certain lack of faith, LadyBassett? Since the young man has been led to see that the poor girlhas been so sadly compromised, surely we may trust that he will beenabled to carry out his engagement. I consider it doubly praiseworthythat he has taken this action on his own initiative. I may tell you inconfidence that I was seriously debating with myself as to whether itwere not my duty to approach him on the subject. But the news of hisengagement relieved me of all responsibility. It is no doubt somethingof a sacrifice to a man of his stamp. We can only trust that he willbe duly rewarded. "

Here the shrill, feline voice suddenly made itself heard, tripping inupon the deeper tones without ceremony. 

"Oh, but poor Nick! I can't picture him married and done for. He hasalways been so gay. Why, look at him with Daisy Musgrave! I know fora fact that he goes there every day at least, and she refusing toreceive any one else. I call it quite scandalous. "

"My dear! My dear!" It was Lady Bassett's turn to reprove. "Not quiteevery day surely!"

"I do assure you that isn't the smallest exaggeration, " protestedher informant. "I had it from Mrs. Gybbon-Smythe who never misstatesanything. It was she who first told me of this engagement, and sheconsidered that Nick was positively throwing himself away. A merechivalrous fad she called it, and declared that it would simply ruinhis prospects. For it is well known that married officers are almostinvariably passed over by the powers that be. And he is regarded as sopromising too. Really I am almost inclined to agree with her. Just alittle more tea, dear, if I may. Your tea is always so delicious, anddoubly so out here under the pines. "

The soft jingling of tea-cups ensued, and through it presently cameLady Bassett's gentle tones. They sounded as if she were smiling. 

"Well, all I can say is, I was unspeakably relieved when I heard thatCaptain Ratcliffe had decided to treat the matter as a point of honourand marry dear Muriel. She is a sweet girl and I am devoted to her, which made it doubly hard for me. For I should scarcely have dared toventure, after what has happened, to ask any of my friends to receiveher. Naturally, she shrinks from speaking of that terrible time, butI understand that she spent no less than three nights alone inthe mountains with him. And that fact in itself would be more thansufficient to blight any girl's career from a social standpoint. Ioften think that the rules of our modern etiquette are very rigid, though I know well that we cannot afford to disregard them. " Againcame that soft, regretful sigh; and then in an apologetic tone, "_You_will say, I know, that for the good of the community this must be so, but you are great enough to make allowances for a woman's weakness. And I must confess that I cannot but feel the pity of it in such acase as this. "

"Indeed, Lady Bassett, I think your feminine weakness does youcredit, " was the kind response this elicited. "We must all of ussympathise most deeply with the poor little wanderer, who, I am wellassured, could not be in better hands than she is at the presentmoment. Your protecting care must, I am convinced, atone to her in avery great measure for all that she has been called upon to undergo. "

"So sweet of you to say so!" murmured Lady Bassett. "Words cannotexpress my reluctance to explain to her the actual state of affairs, or my relief that I have been able to avoid doing so with a clearconscience. Ah! Your cup is empty! Will you let me refill it? No? Butyou are not thinking of leaving me yet, surely?"

"Ah, but indeed we must. We are dining with the Boltons to-night, andgoing afterwards to the Parkers' dance. You will be there of course?How delightful! Then we shall soon meet again. "

The penetrating voice was accompanied by the sounds of a general move, and there ensued the usual interchange of compliments at departure, Lady Bassett protesting that it had been so sweet of her friends tovisit her, and the friends assuring her of the immense pleasure it hadgiven them to do so. All the things that are never said by people whoare truly intimate with each other were said several times over asthe little party moved away. Their voices receded into the distance, though they continued for a while to prick through the silence thatfell like a velvet curtain behind them. 

Finally they ceased altogether. The summer-house was empty, and anenterprising monkey slipped down the trunk of a tree and peered in. But he was a nervous beast, and he had a feeling that the place wasnot so wholly devoid of human presence as it seemed. He approachedcautiously, gibbering a little to himself. It looked safe enough, andthere was some dainty confectionery within. But, uneasy instinct stillurging him, he deemed it advisable to peer round the corner of thesummer-house before he yielded to the promptings of a rapaciousappetite. 

The next instant his worst fears were realised, and he was scudding upthe nearest tree in a panic. 

There, on the ground, face downwards on the pine-needles, lay a humanform. True, it was only a woman lying there. But her silence and herstillness were eloquent of tragedy even to his monkey-intelligence. From a safe height he sat and reviled her till he was tired for havingspoilt his sport. Finally, as she made no movement, he forgothis grievance, and tripped airily away in quest of more thrillingadventures. 

But the woman remained prone upon the ground for a long, long time. 

CHAPTER XV

THE SUMMONS

Nick's fit of virtue evaporated with his third letter, and he gotup, feeling that he had spent an unprofitable afternoon. He alsodiscovered that he was thirsty, and while quenching his thirst hedebated with himself whether he would after all stroll round to theMusgraves. He and Will were old school-fellows, and the friendshipbetween them was of the sort that wears forever. He was moreoverdissatisfied with regard to Daisy's appearance, and he wanted to knowthe doctor's verdict. 

He had just decided to chance his welcome and go, when a note wasbrought to him which proved to be from Will himself. 

 "DEAR OLD NICK, " it ran, --"I have been wanting to shake your hand ever since I heard of your gallant return from the jaws of death. Well done, old chap, if it isn't a stale sentiment!

 "Will you come and dine with us? Do thy diligence, for though we are neither of us the best of company, we both want you. The doctor has ordered Daisy and the youngster home. They are to leave before the _chota-bursat_. Damn the _chota-bursat_, and the whole beastly show!--Yours ever, "WILL"

Nick considered this outburst with a sympathetic frown, and at oncedespatched an answer in the affirmative. He had almost expected thenews. It had been quite plain to him that Daisy was not making anyprogress towards the recovery of her strength. Her quick temperamentwould not allow her to be listless, but he had not been deceived. Andhe was glad that Will had come up at length to see for himself. 

It was horribly unlucky for them both, he reflected, for he knewthat Will could not accompany his wife to England. And the thoughtpresently flashed across him, --How would it go with him if he ever hadto part with Muriel in that way? Having once possessed her, couldhe ever bear to let her go again? Would he not rather relinquish hisprofession for her sake, dear though it was to him? He had made herhis own by sheer dogged effort. He had planned for her, fought forher, suffered for her, --almost he had died for her. Now that she washis at last, he knew that he could never let her go. 

He turned impetuously to a calendar on his writing-table, and tickedoff another day. There were only six left before his wedding-day. Hecounted them with almost savage exultation. Finally he tossed down thepencil with a sudden, quivering laugh, and stood up with wide-flungarms. She was his--his--his! No power or force of circumstance couldever come between them now. He would trample every obstacle underfoot. 

But there were no obstacles left. He had overcome them all. He had wonher fairly; and the reward of patience was very near. 

For the first time he slackened the bonds of his self-restraint;and instantly the fire of his passion leapt up, free and fierce, overflowing its confines in a wide-spread, molten stream that carriedall before it. 

When later he departed to keep his engagement, he was as a mantreading upon air. Not a dozen yards from the gate one of LadyBassett's servants met him and presented a note. He guessed it wasfrom Muriel, and the blood rose in a hot wave to his head and poundedat his temples as he opened it. It was the first she had ever writtento him. 

 "I must see you at once, --M. "

That was all. He dismissed the waiting native, and returned to hisroom. There he wrote a note to Will Musgrave warning him that he hadbeen delayed. 

Then he suddenly straightened himself and stood tense. Something hadhappened. He was sure of it. That urgent summons rang in his brainlike a cry for help. Some demand was about to be made upon him, ademand which he might find himself ill-equipped to meet. He was notlacking in courage. He could meet adversity without a quiver. But foronce he was not sure of himself. He was not prepared to resist anysudden strain that night. 

Several minutes passed before he moved. Then, glancing down, hesaw her message fast gripped in his hand. With a swift, passionatemovement he carried the paper to his lips. And he remembered suddenlyhow he had once held her hand there and breathed upon the little coldfingers to give them life. He had commanded himself then. Was he anythe less his own master now? And was he fool enough to destroy all ina moment that trust of hers which he had built up so laboriously? Hefelt as if a fiend had ensnared him, and with a fierce effort he brokefree. Surely he was torturing himself in vain. She had only sent forhim to explain that she could not ride with him in the morning, orsome other matter equally trifling. He would go to her at once sinceshe had desired it, and set her mind at rest on whatever subjecthappened to be troubling it. 

And so with steady tread he left the house once more. She had calledhim for the first time. He would not keep her waiting. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE ORDEAL

The drawing-room was empty when he entered it, the windows standingflung wide to the night. Strains of dance music were wafted in fromsomewhere lower down the hill, and he guessed that Lady Bassett wouldbe from home. The pine-trees of the compound stood black and silent. There seemed to be a hush of expectancy in the air. 

He stood with his back to the room and his face to the mountains. Themoon was still below the horizon, but stars blazed everywhere with amarvellous brightness. It was a night for dreams, and he thought witha quickening heart of the nights that were coming when they two wouldbe alone once more among the hills, no longer starved and fleeingfor their lives, but wandering happily together in an enchanted worldwhere the past was all forgotten, and the future gleamed like thepeaks of Paradise. 

At sound of a quiet footfall, he turned back into the room. Muriel hadentered and was closing the door behind her. At first sight he fanciedthat she was ill, so terribly did her deep mourning and heavy hairemphasise her pallor. But as she moved forward he reassured himself. It was growing late. Doubtless she was tired. 

He went impetuously to meet her, and in a moment he had her handsin his; but they lay in his grasp cold and limp, with no respondingpressure. Her great eyes, as they looked at him, were emotionlessand distant, remote as the lights of a village seen at night across afar-reaching plain. She gave him no word or smile of welcome. 

A sudden dark suspicion flashed through his brain, and he drew herswiftly to the light, looking at her closely, searchingly. 

"What have you been doing?" he said. 

She fathomed his suspicion, and faintly smiled. "Nothing--nothingwhatever. I have never touched opium since the night you--"

He cut in sharply, as if the reminiscence hurt him. "I beg yourpardon. Well, what is it then? There's something wrong. "

She did not contradict him. Merely with a slight gesture of weariness, she freed herself and sat down. 

Nick remained on his feet, looking down at her, waiting grimly forenlightenment. 

It did not come very readily. Seconds had passed into minutes beforeshe spoke, and then her words did not bear directly upon the matter inhand. 

"I hope it was quite convenient to you to come to-night. I was alittle afraid you would have an engagement. "

He remembered the urgency of her summons and decided that she spokethus conventionally to gain time. On another occasion he mighthave humoured such a whim, but to-night it goaded him almost beyondendurance. Surely they had passed that stage, he and she. 

With an effort he controlled himself, but it sounded in his voice ashe made reply. 

"My engagement to you stands before any other. What is it you want tosay to me?"

Her expression changed slightly at his words, and a shade ofapprehension flitted across her face. She threw him a swift upwardglance, half-scared, half-questioning. Unconsciously her hands lockedthemselves together. 

"I want you not to be vexed, Nick, " she said, in a low voice. 

He made an abrupt movement. "My dear girl, don't be silly. What's thetrouble? Let me hear it and have done. "

His tone was reassuring. She looked up at him with more confidence. 

"Yes, I am silly, " she acknowledged. "I'm perfectly idiotic to fancyfor a moment that it can make any difference to you. Nick, I have beenthinking things over seriously, and--and--I find that I can't marryyou after all. I hope you won't mind, though of course--" she uttereda little laugh that was piteously insincere--"I know you will feelbound to say you do. But--anyhow--you needn't say it to me, because Iunderstand. I thought it was only fair to let you know at once. "

"Thank you, " said Nick, and there was that in his voice which was likethe sudden snapping of a tense spring. 

She saw his hands clench with the words, and an overwhelming senseof danger swept over her. Instinctively she started to her feet. If atiger had leapt in upon her through the window she could not have beenmore terrified. 

Nick took a single stride towards her, and she stopped as if struckpowerless. His face was the face she had once seen bent over a man inhis death-agony, convulsed with passion, savage, merciless, --the faceof a devil. 

She shrank away from him in nameless terror, gasping andpanic-stricken. "Nick, " she whispered, "are you--mad?"

He answered her jerkily in a strangled voice that was like the snarlof a beast. "Yes--I am mad. If you try to run away from me now--Iwon't answer for myself. "

She gazed at him with widening eyes. "But, but--" she faltered--"I--Idon't understand. Oh, Nick, you frighten me!"

It was the cry of a child, lost, bewildered, piteous. Had shewithstood him, had she sought to escape, the demon in him would haveburst the last restraining bond, and have shattered in one moment ofunshackled violence all the chivalrous patience which during the lastfew weeks he had spent his whole strength to achieve. 

But that cry of desolation pierced straight through his madness, cutting deeper than reproach or protest, wounding him to the heart. 

With a sound that was half-sob, half-groan, he turned his back uponher and covered his face. 

For a space of seconds he stood so, not moving, seeming not even tobreathe. And Muriel, steadying herself by the mantelpiece, watched himwith a panting heart. 

Then abruptly, moving with a quick, light tread that made no sound, hecrossed the room to one of the wide-flung windows and stopped there. 

From across the quiet garden there came the strains of "The BlueDanube, " fitful, alluring, plaintive--that waltz to which countlesslovers have danced and wooed and whispered through the years. Muriellonged intensely to shut it out, to stop her ears, to make some noiseto drown it. Her nerves were all on edge, and she felt as if itspersistent sweetness would drive her mad. 

Surely Nick felt the same; but if he did, he made no sign. He stoodwithout movement with his face to the night, gripping the woodwork ofthe window with both hands, every bone of them standing out in sharp, skeleton lines. 

She watched him, fascinated, for a long time, but he did not stir fromhis tense position. He seemed to have utterly forgotten her presencein the room behind him. And still that maddening waltz kept on and onand on till she felt sick and dazed with listening to it. It seemed asif for the rest of her life she would never again be free from thosehaunting strains. 

The soft shutting of the window made her start and quiver. Nick hadmoved at last, and her heart began to throb thick and fast as heturned. She tried to read his face, but she could not even seeit. There was a swimming mist before her eyes, and her limbs feltpowerless, heavy as lead. 

In every nerve, she felt him drawing near, and in an agony ofhelplessness she awaited him, all the surging horror of that nightwhen he had drugged her rushing back upon her with tenfold force. Again she saw him as she had seen him then, monstrous, silent, terrible, a man of superhuman strength, whose mastery appalledher. Again in desperate fear she shrank from him, seeking wildly, fruitlessly, for a way of escape. 

And then came the consciousness of his arm about her, supporting her;and the voice that had quieted her wildest delirium was speaking inher ear. 

"The goblins are all gone, dear, " she heard him say. "Don't befrightened. "

He led her gently to a sofa and made her sit down, bending over herand softly rubbing her cold cheek. 

"Tell me when you're better, " he said, "and we'll talk this thing out. But don't be frightened anyway. It's all right. "

The tenderness of voice and touch, the sudden cessation of alltension, the swift putting to flight of her fear, all combined toproduce in her a sense of relief so immense that the last shred of herself-control went from her utterly. She laid her head down upon thecushions and burst into a storm of tears. 

Nick's hand continued to stroke and soothe, but he said no more whileher paroxysm of weeping lasted. He who was usually so ready of speech, so quick to console, found for once no words wherewith to comfort her. 

Only when her distress had somewhat spent itself, he bent a littlelower and dried her tears with his own handkerchief, his lipstwitching as he did it, his eyes flickering so rapidly that it wasimpossible to read their expression. 

"There!" he said at last. "There's nothing to cry about. Finish whatyou were saying when I interrupted you. I think you were in the middleof throwing me over, weren't you? At least, you had got through thatpart of it, and were just going to tell me why. "

His tone was reassuringly flippant. 

Looking up at him, she saw the old kindly, quizzical look on his face. He met her eyes, nodding shrewdly. 

"Let's have it, " he said, "straight from the shoulder. You're tired ofme, eh?"

She drew back from him, but with no gesture of shrinking. "I'm tiredof everything--everything, " she said, a little passionate quiver inher voice. "I wish--I wish with all my heart, you had left me to die. "

"Is that the grievance?" said Nick. He sat down on the head of thesofa, and drove his fist into the cushion. "If I could explain thingsto you, I would. But you're such a chicken, aren't you, dear, andabout as easily scared? Since when have you harboured this grudgeagainst me?"

The gentle banter of his tone did not deceive her into imagining thatshe could trifle with him, nor was she addicted to trifling. Shemade answer with a certain warmth of indignation that seemed to havekindled on its own initiative and wholly without her volition. 

"I haven't, I don't. I'm not so absurd. It isn't that at all. "

"You're not tired of me?" queried Nick. 

"No. "

"If I were to die to-morrow for instance--and there's no telling, youknow, Muriel, --you'd be a little sorry?"

Again, though scarcely aware of it, she resented the question. "Why doyou ask me that? Of course I should be sorry. "

"Of course, " acquiesced Nick. "But all the king's horses and all theking's men wouldn't bring me back again. That's the worst of beingmortal. You can't dance at your own funeral. "

"What do you mean?" There was a note of exasperation in Muriel'svoice. She saw that he had an object in view, but his method ofattaining it was too tortuous for her straightforward understanding. 

He explained himself with much patience. His mood had so completelychanged that she could barely recall to mind the vision that had soappalled her but a few minutes before. 

"What I mean is that it's infernal to think that some one may beshedding precious tears on your grave and you not there to see. I've often wondered if one could get a ticket of leave for such anoccasion. " He smiled down at her with baffling directness. "I shouldvalue those tears unspeakably, " he said. 

Muriel made a slight movement of impatience. The discussion seemed toher inconsequent and unprofitable. 

Nick began to enumerate his points. "You're not tired of me--thoughI see I'm boring you hideously; put up with it a little longer, I'venearly finished--and you'd shed quite a respectable number of tearsif I were to die young. Yes, I am young though as ugly as Satan. Ibelieve you think I'm some sort of connection, don't you? Is that whyyou don't want to marry me?"

He put the question with startling suddenness, and Muriel glanced upquickly, but was instantly reassured. He was no more formidable atthat moment than a grinning schoolboy. Still she did not feel whollyat her ease with him. She had a curious suspicion that he was in somefashion testing her. 

"No, " she answered, after a moment. "It is nothing of that sort. "

"Quite sure there is a reason?" he asked quizzically. 

Her white cheeks flushed. "Yes, of course. But--I would rather nottell you what it is. "

"Quite so, " said Nick. "I suppose that also is 'only fair'?"

Her colour deepened. He made her feel unaccountably ashamed. "I willtell you if you wish to know, " she said reluctantly. "But I wouldrather not. "

Nick made an airy gesture. "Not for the world! My intelligencedepartment is specially fitted for this sort of thing. Besides, I knowexactly what happened. It was something like this. " He passed hishand over his face, then turned to her with a faint, wry smile soirresistibly reminiscent of Lady Bassett that Muriel gasped with asudden hysterical desire to laugh. 

He silenced her by beginning to speak in soft, purring accents. "Youknow, darling Muriel, I have never looked upon Nicholas Ratcliffe asa marrying man. He is such a gay butterfly. " (This with an indulgentshake of the head. ) "Indeed, I have heard dear Mrs. Gybbon-Smythedescribe him as a shocking little flirt. And they say he is fond ofhis glass too, but let us hope this is an exaggeration. I know for afact that he has a very violent temper, and this may have givenrise to the rumour. I assure you, dearest, he is quite formidable, notwithstanding his size. But there, if I tell you any more you willthink I am prejudiced against him, whereas we are really the greatestfriends--the greatest possible friends. I only thought it kind to warnyou not to expect too much. It is a mistake so many young girls make, and I want you to be as happy as you can, poor child. "

Muriel was laughing helplessly when he stopped. The mimicry of voiceand action was so perfect, so free from exaggeration, so sublimelyspontaneous. 

Nick did not laugh with her. Behind his mask of banter he waswatching, watching closely. He had clad himself in jester's garb tofeel for the truth. Perhaps she realised something of this asshe recovered herself, for again that glance, half-questioning, half-frightened, flashed up at him as she made reply. 

"No, Nick. She never said that, indeed. I wouldn't have cared if shehad. It was only--only--"

"I know, " he broke in abruptly. "If it wasn't that, there is only onething left that it could have been. I don't want you to tell me. It'sas plain as daylight. Let me tell you instead. It's all for the sakeof your poor little personal pride. I know--yes, I know. They've beenthrowing mud at you, and it's stuck. You'd sooner die than marry me, wouldn't you? But what will you do if I refuse to set you free?"

She turned suddenly crimson. "You--you wouldn't, Nick! You couldn't!You haven't--the right. "

"Haven't I?" said Nick, with an odd smile. "I thought I had. "

He looked down at her, and a queer little flame leaped up like an evilspirit in his eyes, flickered an instant, and was gone. "I thought Ihad, " he said again, in a different tone. "But we won't quarrel aboutthat. Tell me what you want to do. "

Her answer came with a vehemence that perhaps he had hardly expected. "Oh, I want to get away--right away. I want to go home. I--I hate thisplace. "

"And every one in it?" suggested Nick. 

"Almost. " Muriel spoke recklessly, even defiantly. She was fightingfor her freedom, and the battle was infinitely harder than she hadanticipated. 

He nodded. "The sole exception being Mrs. Musgrave. Do you know Mrs. Musgrave is going home? You would like to go with her. "

Muriel looked at him with sudden hope. "Alone with her?" she said. 

"Oh, I'm not going, " declared Nick. "I'm going to Khatmandu for myhoneymoon. "

The hope died out of Muriel's eyes. "Don't--jeer at me, Nick, " shesaid, in a choked voice. "I can't bear it. "

"Jeer!" said Nick. "I!" He reached down suddenly and took her hand. The light sparkled on the ring he had given her, and he moved itslowly to and fro watching it. 

"I am going to ask you to take it back, " she said. 

He did not raise his eyes. "And I am going to refuse, " he answeredpromptly. "I don't say you must wear it, but you are to keep it--notas a bond, merely in remembrance of a promise which you will make tome. "

"A promise--" she faltered. 

Still he did not look up. He was watching the stones with eyeshalf-shut. 

"Yes, " he said, after a moment. "I will let you go on the solecondition that you give me this promise. "

She began to tremble a little. "What is it?" she whispered. 

He glanced at her momentarily, but his expression was enigmatical. Shefelt as if his look lighted and dwelt upon something beyond her. 

"Simply this, " he said. "You'll laugh, I daresay; but if you are ableto laugh it won't hurt you to promise. I want your word of honour thatif you ever change your mind about marrying me, you will come to melike a brave woman and tell me so. "

Thus, quite calmly, he made known to her his condition, and in theamazed silence with which she received it he continued to flash hitherand thither the wonderful rays that shone from the gems upon her hand. He did not appear to be greatly concerned as to what her answer wouldbe. Simply with an inscrutable countenance he waited for it. 

"Is it a bargain?" he asked at last. 

She started with an involuntary gesture of shrinking. "Oh, no, Nick!How could I promise you that? You know I shall never change my mind. "

He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. "That isn't the point underdiscussion. If it's an impossible contingency, it costs you the lessto promise. "

He kept her hand in his as he said it, though she fidgeted to be free. "Please, Nick, " she said earnestly, "I would so much rather not. "

"You prefer to marry me at once?" he asked, and suddenly it seemed toher that this was the alternative to which he meant to drive her. 

She rose in a panic, and he rose also, still keeping her hand. Hisface looked like a block of yellow granite. 

"Must it--must it--be one or the other?" she panted. 

He looked at her under flickering eyelids. "I have said it, " heremarked. 

Her resistance flagged, sank, rose again, and finally died away. Afterall, why should she hesitate? What was there in such an undertaking asthis to send the blood so wildly to her heart?

"Very well, " she said faintly at last. "I promise. But--but--I nevershall change my mind, Nick--never--never. "

He was still looking at her with veiled, impenetrable eyes. He paid noattention to her protest. It was as if he had not so much as heard it. 

"You've done your part, " he said. "Now hear me do mine. I swear toyou--before God--that I will never marry you unless you ask me to. "

He bent with the words, and solemnly, reverently, he pressed his lipsupon the hand he held. 

Muriel waited, half-frightened still, and wholly awestruck. She didnot know Nick in this mood. 

But when he straightened himself again, the old whimsical smile was onhis face, and she breathed a sigh of relief. With a quick, caressingmovement he took her by the shoulders. 

"That's over then, " he said lightly. "Turn over and start anotherpage. Go back to England, go back to school; and let them teach you tobe young again. "

They were his last words to her. Yet an instant longer he waited, andvery deep down in her heart something that was hidden there stirredand quivered as a blind creature moves at the touch of the sun. Itawoke a vague pain within her, that was all. 

The next moment Nick had turned upon his heel and was departing. 

She heard him humming a waltz tune under his breath as he went awaywith his free British swagger. And she knew with no sense of elationthat she had gained her point. 

For good or ill he had left her, and he would not return. 

PART III

CHAPTER XVII

AN OLD FRIEND

"There!" said Daisy, standing back from the table to review herhandiwork with her head on one side. "I may be outrageously childish, but if Blake fails to appreciate this masterpiece of mine, I shallfeel inclined to turn him out-of-doors, and leave him to spend thenight on the step. "

Muriel, curled up in the old-fashioned window-seat, looked round withher low laugh. "It's snowing hard, " she remarked. 

Daisy did not heed her. "Come and look at it, " she said. 

The masterpiece in question consisted of an enormous red scrollbearing in white letters the words: "Welcome to the Brave. "

"It never before occurred to me that Blake was brave, " observed Daisy. "He is so shy and soft and retiring. I can't somehow feel as if I amgoing to entertain a lion. He ought to be here by this time. Let's goand hang my work of art in the hall. "

She slipped her hand through Muriel's arm, and glanced at her sharplywhen she felt it tremble. 

"It will be good to see him again, won't it?" she said. 

"Yes, " Muriel agreed, but there was a little tremor in her voice aswell. 

Very vividly were the circumstances under which she had last seen thisman in her mind that night. Eight months that were like as many yearsstretched between that tragic time and the present, but the old wildhorror had still the power to make her blood turn cold, the old woundhad not lost its ache. These things had made a woman of her beforeher time, but yet she was not as other women. It seemed that she wasdestined all her life to live apart, and only to look on at the joysof others. They did not attract her, and she had no heart for gaiety. Yet she was not cold, or Daisy had not found in her so congenial acompanion. But even Daisy seldom penetrated behind the deep reservethat had grown over the girl's sad young heart. They were closefriends, but their friendship lay mainly in what they left unsaid. For all her quick warmth, Daisy too had her inner shrine--a place sosecret that she herself never entered it save as it were by stealth. 

But something of Muriel's mood she understood on that bitter nightin January on which they awaited the coming of Blake Grange, and herclose hand-pressure conveyed as much as they passed out together intothe little hall that glowed so snugly in the firelight. 

"He is sure to be frozen, poor boy, " she said. "I hope Jim Ratcliffewon't forget to send the motor to the station as he promised. "

"I am quite sure he never forgets anything, " Muriel declared, withreassuring confidence. 

Daisy laughed lightly. "Yes, he's very dependable, deliciously solid, isn't he? A trifle domineering perhaps, but all doctors are. Theyrule us weak women with a rod of iron. I am a little afraid of Dr. Jimmyself, and most unfortunately he knows it. "

Muriel's silence expressed a certain scepticism that provoked anotherlaugh from Daisy. She was almost frivolously light-hearted that night. 

"It's a fact, I assure you. Have you never noticed how docile I amin his presence? I always feel as if I want to confess all my sins tohim. I should like intensely to have his opinion upon some of them. Ithink it would do me good. "

"Then why not ask for it?" suggested Muriel. 

"For the reason aforementioned--a slavish timidity. " Daisy broke offto carol a few bars of a song. "I've known the Ratcliffe family eversince I became engaged to Will, " she said presently. "Jim Ratcliffe, you know, was left his guardian, and he was always very good to him. Will made his home with them and he and Nick are great pals, just likebrothers. I should think Dr. Jim had his hands full with the two ofthem. " Again Daisy stopped to sing. Muriel was stooping over the fire. It was seldom that Nick's name was mentioned between them, though thefact that Daisy had placed herself and her baby in the hands ofhis half-brother formed a connecting link which could not always beignored. She always dropped into silence when a reference was madeto him. Not in the most casual conversation had Daisy ever heard herutter his name. 

Having successfully fixed her message of welcome in a prominentposition, she joined the girl in front of the fire. Her face wasflushed and her eyes were sparkling. Muriel thought that she had neverseen her look so well or so happy. 

"You're quite excited, " she said. 

Daisy put up a hand to her hot cheek. "Yes, isn't it absurd? I hopeDr. Jim won't come with him, or he will be cross. But I can't help it. Blake and I have been chums all our lives, and of course I am glad tosee him after all this while. So nice, too, not to have Lady Bassettlooking on. "

There was a spice of venom in this, over which Muriel smiled in hersad way. 

"Does she disapprove?" she asked. 

Daisy nodded impatiently. "She chose altogether to overlook the factthat we are first cousins. It was intolerable. But--" again came herlight laugh--"everything is intolerable till you learn to shrug yourshoulders and laugh. Hark! Surely I heard something!"

Both listened intently. Footsteps were approaching the door. Daisysprang to open it. 

But it was only the evening post, and she came back holding a letterwith a very unwonted expression of disappointment. 

"From Will, " she said. "I forgot it was mail night. I don't supposethere is anything very exciting in it. "

She pushed the flimsy envelope into the front of her dress and fellagain to listening. 

"Can he have missed the train? Surely it's getting very late. A fog onthe line perhaps. No! What's that? Ah! It really is this time. That'sthe horn, and, yes, Jim Ratcliffe's voice. "

In a moment she had the door open again, and was out upon the stepcrying welcome to her guest. 

Muriel crouched a little lower over the fire. Her hands were fastgripped together. It was more of an ordeal than she had thought itpossibly could be. 

An icy blast blew in through the open door, and she heard Dr. Ratcliffe's voice, sharp and curt, ordering Daisy back into thehouse. Then came another voice, slow and soft as a woman's, and for aninstant Muriel covered her face, overwhelmed by bitter memory. 

When she looked up they were entering the hall together, Daisy, radiant, eager, full of breathless questioning; Blake, upright, soldierly, magnificent, wearing the shy, pleased smile that she sowell remembered. 

He did not at once see her, and she stood hesitating, till Daisy, whowas clinging to her cousin's arm, turned swiftly round and called her. 

"Muriel, dear, where are you? Why are you hiding yourself? See, Blake!Here is Muriel Roscoe! You knew we were living together?"

He saw her then, and came across to her, with both hands outstretched. 

"Forgive me, Miss Roscoe, " he said, with his pleasant smile. "You knowhow glad I am to meet you again. "

He looked down at her with eyes full of frank and friendly sympathy, and the grasp of his hands was such that she felt it for long after. It warmed her through and through, but she could not speak just then, and with ready understanding he turned back to Daisy. 

"Dr. Ratcliffe told me you had sent him to fetch me from the station, "he said. "I am immensely grateful to you and to him. "

Daisy was greeting the doctor with much animation and a hint ofmischief. 

"I knew you would come, " she laughed. "You never trust me to take careof myself, do you?"

He brushed some flakes of snow from her dress. "Events prove me to bejustified, " he remarked dryly. "Since Will has put you in my care, Ilabour under a twofold responsibility. What possessed you to go out inthat murderous north-easter?"

He frowned at her heavily, his black brows meeting, butnotwithstanding her avowal of a few minutes before, Daisy onlygrimaced in return. He was generally regarded as somewhat formidable, this gruff, square-shouldered doctor, with his iron-grey hair andblack moustache, and keenly critical eyes. There was no varnish in hiscurt speech, no dissimulation in any of his dealings. It was saidof him that he never sugared his pills. But his popularity waswide-spread nevertheless. His help was sought in a thousand waysoutside his profession. To see his strong face melt into a smile waslike sunshine on a gloomy day, the village mothers declared. 

But Daisy's gay effrontery did not manage to provoke it at thatmoment. 

"You have no business to take risks, " he said. "How's the boy?"

Daisy sobered instantly. "His teeth have been worrying him ratherto-day. _Ayah_ is with him. I left her crooning him to sleep. Will yougo up?"

Jim Ratcliffe nodded and turned aside to the stairs. But he had notreached the top when Muriel overtook him, moving more quickly than washer wont. 

"Let me come with you, doctor, " she said. 

He put his hand on her arm unceremoniously. "Miss Roscoe, " he said, "Ihave a message for you--from my scapegrace Olga. She wants to knowif you will play hockey in her team next Saturday. I have promised toexert my influence--if I have any--on her behalf. "

Muriel looked at him in semi-tragic dismay. "Oh, I can't indeed. Why, I haven't played for ages, --not since I was at school. Besides--"

"How old are you?" he cut in. 

"Nearly twenty, " she told him. "But--"

He brought his hand down sharply on her shoulder. "I shall never callyou Miss Roscoe again. You obtained my veneration on false pretences, and you have lost it for ever. Now look here, Muriel!" Arrived at thetop of the stairs, he stood still and confronted her with that smileof his that so marvellously softened his rugged face. "I am thirtyyears older than you are, and I haven't lived for any part ofthem with my eyes shut. I've been wanting to give you someadvice--medical advice--for a long time. But you wouldn't have it. Andnow I'm not going to offer it to you. You shall take the advice of afriend instead. You join Olga's hockey team, and go paper-chasing withher too. The monkey is a rare sportswoman. She'll give you a good runfor your money. Besides, she has set her heart on having you, andshe is a young woman that likes her own way, though, to be sure, shedoesn't always get it. Come, you can't refuse when a friend asks you. "

It was difficult, certainly, but Muriel plainly desired to do so. Shehad escaped from the whirling vortex of life with strenuous effort, and dragged herself bruised and aching to the bank. She did not wantto step down again into even the minutest eddy of that ruthlessflood. Moreover, in addition to this morbid reluctance she lacked thephysical energy that such a step demanded of her. 

"It's very kind of your little daughter to think of asking me, " shesaid. "But really, I shouldn't be any good. I get tired so quickly. No, there's nothing the matter with me, " seeing his intent look. "I'mnot ill. I never have been actually ill. Only--" her voice quivered alittle--"I think I always shall be tired for the rest of my life. "

"Skittles!" he returned bluntly. "That isn't what's the matter withyou. Go out into the open air. Go out into the north-east wind andsweep the snow away. Shall I tell you what is wrong with you? You'restiff from inaction. It's a species of cramp, my dear, and there'sonly one remedy for it. Are you going to take it of your own accord, or must I come round with a physic spoon and make you?"

She laughed a little, though the deep pathos of her shadowed eyesnever varied. Daisy's merry voice rose from the lower regions gailychaffing her cousin. 

"Goodness, Blake! I shouldn't have known you. You're as gaunt asa camel. Haven't you got over your picnic at Fort Wara yet? You'realmost as scanty a bag of bones as Nick was six months ago. "

Blake's answer was inaudible. Dr. Ratcliffe did not listen for it. He had seen the swift look of horror that the brief allusion had sentinto the girl's sad face, and he understood it though he made no sign. 

"Very well, " he said, turning towards the nursery. "Then I take youin hand from this day forward. And if I don't find you in thehockey-field on Saturday, I shall come myself and fetch you. "

There was nothing even vaguely suggestive of Nick about him, butMuriel knew as surely as if Nick had said it that he would keep hisword. 

CHAPTER XVIII

THE EXPLANATION

"Now, " said Daisy briskly, "you two will just have to entertain eachother for a little while, for I am going up to sit with my son while_ayah_ is off duty. "

"Mayn't we come too?" suggested her cousin, as he rose to open thedoor. 

She stood a moment and contemplated him with shining eyes. "Youare too magnificent altogether for this doll's house of ours, " shedeclared. "I am sure this humble roof has never before sheltered sucha lion as Captain Blake Grange, V. C. "

"Only an ass in a lion's skin, my dear Daisy, " said Grange modestly. 

She laughed. "An excellent simile, my worthy cousin. I wish I hadthought of it myself. "

She went lightly away with this thrust, and Grange, after a briefpause, turned slowly back into the room. 

Muriel was seated in a low chair before the fire. She was working atsome tiny woollen socks, knitting swiftly in dead silence. 

He moved to the hearthrug, and stood there, obviously ill at ease. Acertain shyness was in his nature, and Muriel's nervousness reactedupon him. He did not know how to break the silence. 

At length, with an effort, he spoke. "You heard about Nick Ratcliffe'swound, I expect, Miss Roscoe?"

Muriel's hands leapt suddenly and fell into her lap. "Nick Ratcliffe!When was he wounded? No, I have heard nothing. "

He looked down at her with an uneasy suspicion that he had lightedupon an unfortunate subject. 

"I thought you would have heard, " he said. "Didn't Daisy know? Hecame back to us from Simla--got himself attached to the punitiveexpedition. I was on the sick list myself, so did not see him, butthey say he fought like a dancing dervish, and did a lot of damagetoo. Every one thought he would have the V. C. , but there was a rumourthat he refused it. "

"And--he was wounded, you say?" Muriel's voice sounded curiouslystrained. Her knitting lay jumbled together in her lap. Her dark facewas lifted, and it seemed to Grange, unskilled observer though he was, that he had never seen deeper tragedy in any woman's eyes. 

Somewhat reluctantly he made reply. "He had his arm injured by asword-thrust at the very end of the campaign. He made light of it forever so long till things began to look serious. Then he had to givein, and had a pretty sharp time of it, I believe. He's better againnow, though, so his brother told me this evening. I never heard anydetails. I daresay he's all right again. " He stooped to pick up acompleted sock that had fallen. "He's the sort of chap who alwayscomes out on top, " he ended consolingly. 

Muriel stiffened a little as she sat. She had a curious longing tohear more, and an equally curious reluctance to ask for it. 

"I never heard anything about it--naturally, " she remarked. 

Grange, having fitted the sock on to two fingers, was examining itwith a contemplative air. It struck her abruptly that he was trying tosay something. She waited silently, not without apprehension. She hadno idea as to how much he knew of what had passed between herself andNick. 

"I say, Miss Roscoe, " he blurted out suddenly, "do you hate talkingabout these things--very badly, I mean?"

She looked up at him, and was surprised to see emotion on his face. Ithad an odd effect upon her, placing her unaccountably at her ease withhim, banishing all her stiffness in a moment. She remembered with aquick warmth at her heart how she had always liked this man in thosefar-off days of her father's protection, how she had always foundsomething reassuring in his gentle courtesy. 

"No, " she said, after a moment, speaking with absolute sincerity. "Ican't bear to with--most people; but I don't think I mind with you. "

She saw his pleasant smile for an instant. He laid the sock down uponher knee, and in doing so touched and lightly pressed her hand. 

"Thank you, " he said simply. "I know I'm not good at expressingmyself, but please believe that I wouldn't hurt you for the world. Miss Roscoe, I have brought some things with me I think you will liketo have--things that belonged to your father. Sir Reginald Bassettentrusted them to me--left them, in fact, in my charge, as he foundthem. I was coming home, and I asked leave to bring them to you. Perhaps you would like me to fetch them?"

She was on her feet as he asked the question, on her face such a lookof eagerness as it had not worn for many weary months. 

"Oh, please--if you would!" she said, her words falling fast andbreathless. "It has been--such a grief to me--that I had nothing ofhis to--to treasure. "

He turned at once to the door. The desolation that those words of hersrevealed to him went straight to his man's heart. Poor little girl!Had the parting been so infernally hard as even now to bring that lookto her eyes? Was her father's memory the only interest she had leftin her sad young life? And all the evening, save for that first briefmoment of their meeting, he had been thinking her cold, impassive, even cynical. 

With a deep pity in his soul he departed on his errand. 

Returning with the soft tread which was his peculiarity, he surprisedher with her face in her hands in an attitude of such abandonment thathe drew back hesitating. But, suddenly aware of him, she sprang upswiftly, with no sign of tears upon her face. 

"Oh, come in, come in!" she said impatiently. "Why do you standthere?"

She ran forward to meet him with hands hungrily outstretched, andhe put into them those trifles which were to her so infinitelyprecious--a cigarette-case, a silver match-box, a pen-knife, a littleold prayer-book very worn at the edges, with all the gilt faded fromits leaves. She gathered them to her breast closely, passionately. All but the prayer-book had been her gifts to the father she hadworshipped. With a wrung heart she called to mind the occasion uponwhich each had been offered, his smile of kindly appreciation, theold-world courtliness of his thanks. With loving hands she laid themdown one by one, lingering over each, seeing them through a blur oftears. She was no longer conscious of Grange, as reverently, evendiffidently, she opened last of all the little shabby prayer-book thather father had been wont to take with him on all his marches. She knewthat he had cherished it as her mother's gift. 

It opened upon a scrap of white heather which marked the Service forthe Burial of the Dead. Her tears fell upon the faded sprig, and shebrushed her hand swiftly across her eyes, looking more closely ascertain words underlined caught her attention. Other words had beenwritten by her father's hand very minutely in the margin. 

The passage underlined was ... "not to be sorry as men without hope, for them that sleep ... " and in a moment she guessed that her fatherhad made that mark on the day of her mother's death. It was like amessage to her, the echo of a cry. 

The words in the margin were so small that she had to carry them tothe light to read them. And then they flashed out at her as ifsprung suddenly to light on the white paper. There, in the belovedhandwriting, sure and indelible, she read it, and across the desertof her heart, voiceless but insistent, there swept the hunger-cry of aman's soul: OMNIA VINCIT AMOR. 

It pulsed through her like an electric current, seeming to overwhelmevery other sensation, shutting her off as it were from the home-worldto which she had fled, how fruitlessly, for healing. Once moreskeleton fingers held hers, shifting to and fro, to and fro, slowly, ceaselessly, flashing the deep rays that shone from ruby hearts hitherand thither. Once more--But she would not bear it! She was free! Shewas free! She flung out the hand that once had worn those rubies, and, resisting wildly, broke away from the spell that the words her fatherhad written had woven afresh for her. 

It might be true that Love conquered all things--he had believedit--but ah, what had this uncanny force to do with Love? Love was apure, a holy thing, the bond imperishable--the Eternal Flame at whichall the little torches of the world are lighted. 

Moreover, there was no fear in Love, and she--she was sick with fearwhenever she encountered that haunting phantom of memory. 

With a start she awoke to the fact that she was not alone. BlakeGrange had taken her out-flung hand, and was speaking to her softly, soothingly. 

"Don't grieve so awfully, Miss Roscoe, " he urged, a slight break inhis own voice. "You're not left friendless. I know how it is. I'vefelt like it myself. But it gets better afterwards. "

Muriel suffered him with a dawning sense of comfort. It surprised herto see tears in his eyes. She wondered vaguely if they were for her. 

"Yes, " she said, after a pause. "It does get better, I know, in a way. Or at least one gets used to an empty heart. One gets to leave offlistening for what one will never, never hear any more. "

"Never is a dreary word, " said Grange. 

She bent her head silently, and again his heart overflowed with pityfor her. He looked down at the hand that lay so passively in his. 

"I hope you will always think of me as a friend, " he said. 

She looked up at him a quick gleam of gratitude in her eyes. "Thankyou, " she said. "Yes, always. "

He still held her hand. "You know, " he said, blundering awkwardly, "Ialways blamed myself that--that I wasn't the one to be with you whenyou escaped from Wara. I might have been. But I--I wasn't prepared topay the possible price. "

She was still looking at him with those aloof, tragic eyes ofhers. "I don't quite understand, " she said, "I never didunderstand--exactly--why Nick was chosen to protect me. I alwayswished it had been you. "

"It ought to have been, " Grange said, with feeling. "It should havebeen. I blame myself. But Nick is a better fighter than I. He keepshis head. Moreover, he's a savage in some respects. I wasn't savageenough. "

He smiled with a hint of apology. 

Muriel repressed a shudder at his words. "I don't understand, " shesaid again. 

He hesitated. "It's a difficult thing to explain to you, " he saidreluctantly. "You see, the fellow who took charge of you had to beprepared for--well--anything. You know what devils those tribesmenare. There was to be no chance of your falling into their hands. Itdidn't mean just fighting for you, you understand. We would all havedone that to the last drop of our blood. But--your father--was forcedto ask of us--something more. And only Ratcliffe would undertake it. He's a queer chap. I used to think him a rotter till I saw him fight, and then I had to change my mind. That was, I believe, the main reasonwhy General Roscoe selected him as your protector. He knew he couldtrust the fellow's nerve. The rest of us were like women compared toNick. "

He paused. Muriel's eyes had not flinched from his. She heard hisexplanation as one not vitally concerned. 

"Have I made myself intelligible?" he asked, as she did not speak. 

"Do you mean I was to be shot if things went wrong?" she returned, inher deep, quiet voice. 

He nodded. "It must have been that. Your father saw it in that light, and so did we. Of course you are bound to see it too. But we stuck atit--Marshall and I. There was only Nick left, and he volunteered. "

"Only Nick left!" she repeated slowly. "Nick would stick at nothing, Captain Grange. "

"I honestly don't think he would, " said Grange. "Still, you know, he'sawfully plucky. He would have gone any length to save you first. "

She drew back with a sudden shrinking of her whole body. "Oh, I know, I know!" she said. "I sometimes think there is a devil in Nick. "

She turned aside, bending once more over her father's things, puttingthem together with unsteady fingers. So this was the answer to theriddle--the secret of his choice for her! She understood it all now. 

After a short pause, she spoke again more calmly. "Did Nick ever speakto you about me?"

"Never, " said Grange. 

"Then please, Captain Grange"--she stood up again and facedhim--"never speak to me again about him. I--want to forget him. "

Very young and slight she looked standing there, and again he felt hisheart stir within him with an urgent pity. Vague rumours he had heardof those few weeks at Simla during which her name and Nick Ratcliffe'shad been coupled together, but he had never definitely known whathad taken place. Had Nick been good to her, he wondered for the firsttime? How was it that the bare mention of him was unendurable toher? What had he done that she should shudder with horror when sheremembered him, and should seek thus with loathing to thrust him outof her life?

Involuntarily the man's hands clenched and his blood quickened. Hadthe General's trust been misplaced? Was Nick a blackguard?

Finding her eyes still upon him, he made her a slight bow that waswholly free from gallantry. 

"I will remember your wish, Miss Roscoe, " he said. "I am sorry Imentioned a painful subject to you, though I am glad for you to knowthe truth. You are not vexed with me, I hope?"

Her eyes shone with sincere friendliness. "I am not vexed, " sheanswered. "Only--let me forget--that's all. "

And in those few words she voiced the desire of her soul. It was herone longing, her one prayer--to forget. And it was the one thing ofall others denied to her. 

In the silence that followed, she was conscious of his warm and kindlysympathy, and she was grateful for it, though something restrained herfrom telling him so. 

Daisy, coming lightly in upon them, put an end to their tête-à-tête. She entered softly, her face alight and tender, and laid her two handsupon Grange's great shoulders as he sat before the fire. 

"Come upstairs, Blake, " she whispered, "and see my baby boy. He'ssleeping so sweetly. I want you to see him first while he's good. "

He raised his face to her smiling, his hands on hers. "I am sure toadmire anything that belongs to you, Daisy, " he said. 

"You're a dear old pal, " responded Daisy lightly. "Come along. "

When they were gone Muriel spied Will Musgrave's letter lying onthe ground by Grange's chair as it had evidently fallen from Daisy'sdress. She went over and picked it up. It was still unopened. 

With an odd little frown she set it up prominently upon themantelpiece. 

"Does Love conquer after all?" she murmured to herself, and there wasa faint twist of cynicism about her lips as she asked the question. There seemed to be so many forms of Love. 

CHAPTER XIX

A HERO WORSHIPPER

"Well played! Oh, well played! Miss Roscoe, you're a brick. "

The merry voice of the doctor's little daughter Olga, aged fourteen, shrilled across the hockey-ground, keen with enthusiasm. She wasspeeding across the field like a hare to congratulate her latestrecruit. 

"I'm so pleased!" she cried, bursting through the miscellaneous crowdof boys and girls that surrounded Muriel. "I wanted you to shoot thatgoal. "

She herself had been acting as goal-keeper at her own end of thefield, a position of limited opportunities which she had firmlyrefused to assign to the new-comer. A child of unusual character wasOlga Ratcliffe, impulsive but shrewd, with quick, pale eyes whichnever seemed to take more than a brief glance at anything, yet whichvery little ever escaped. At first sight Muriel had experienced acertain feeling of aversion to her, so marked was the likeness thischild bore to the man whom she desired so passionately to shut out ofher very memory. But a nearer intimacy had weakened her antipathytill very soon it had altogether disappeared. Olga had a swift andfascinating fashion of endearing herself to all who caught her fancyand, somewhat curiously, Muriel was one of the favoured number. Whatthere was to attract a child of her quick temperament in the grave, silent girl in mourning who held aloof so coldly from the rest of theworld was never apparent. But that a strong attraction existed for herwas speedily evident, and Muriel, who was quite destitute of anynear relations of her own, soon found that a free admittance to thedoctor's home circle was accorded her on all sides, whenever she choseto avail herself of it. 

But though Daisy was an immense favourite and often ran into theRatcliffes' house, which was not more than a few hundred yards awayfrom her own little abode, Muriel went but seldom. The doctor's wife, though always kind, was too busy to seek her out. And so it had beenleft to the doctor himself to drag her at length from her seclusion, and he had done it with a determination that would take no refusal. She did not know him very intimately, had never asked his advice, or held any confidential talk with him. At the outset she had beenhorribly afraid lest he should have heard of her engagement to Nick, but, since he never referred to her life in India or to Nick as in anyfashion connected with herself, this fear had gradually subsided. Shewas able to tell herself thankfully that Nick was dropping away fromher into the past, and to hope with some conviction that the greatgulf that separated them would never be bridged. 

Yet, notwithstanding this, she had a fugitive wish to know how herlate comrade in adversity was faring. Captain Grange's news regardinghim had aroused in her a vague uneasiness, which would not be quieted. 

She wondered if by any means she could extract any information fromOlga, and this she presently essayed to do, when play was over for theday and Olga had taken her upstairs to prepare for tea. 

Olga was the easiest person in the world to deal with upon such asubject. She expanded at the very mention of Nick's name. 

"Oh, do you know him? Isn't he a darling? I have a photograph of himsomewhere. I must try and find it. He is in fancy dress and standingon his head--such a beauty. Weren't you awfully fond of him? He hasbeen ill, you know. Dad was very waxy because he wouldn't come home. He might have had sick leave, but he wouldn't take it. However, he mayhave to come yet, Dad says, if something happens. He didn't say what. It was something to do with his wound. Dad wants him to leave the Armyand settle down on his estate. He owns a big place about twelve milesaway that an old great-aunt of his left him. Dad thinks a landownerought to live at home if he can afford to. And of course Nick might gointo Parliament too. He's so clever, and rich as well. But he won't doit. So it's no good talking. "

Olga jumped off the dressing-table, and wound her arm impulsivelythrough Muriel's. "Miss Roscoe, " she said coaxingly, "I do like youmost awfully. May I call you by your Christian name?"

"Why, do!" Muriel said. "I should like it best. "

"Oh, that's all right, " said Olga, well pleased. "I knew you weren'tstuck-up really. I hate stuck-up people, don't you? I'm awfullypleased that you like Nick. I simply love him--better almost than anyone else. He writes to me sometimes, pages and pages. I never showthem to any one, and he doesn't show mine either. You see, we're pals. But I can show you his photograph--the one I told you about. It's justlike him--his grin and all. Come up after tea, and I'll find it. "

And with her arm entwined in Muriel's she drew her, still talkingeagerly, from the room. 

CHAPTER XX

NEWS FROM THE EAST

"I have been wondering, " Grange said in his shy, rather diffident way, "if you would care to do any riding while I am here. "

"I?" Muriel looked up in some surprise. 

They were walking back from church together by a muddy field-path, andsince neither had much to say at any time, they had accomplished morethan half the distance in silence. 

"I know you do ride, " Grange explained, "and it's just the sort ofcountry for a good gallop now and then. Daisy isn't allowed to, but Ithought perhaps you--"

"Oh, I should like to, of course, " Muriel said. "I haven't done anyriding since I left Simla. I didn't care to alone. "

"Ah! Lady Bassett rides, doesn't she? She is an accomplishedhorsewoman, I believe?"

"I don't know, " Muriel's reply was noticeably curt. "I never rode withher. "

Grange at once dropped the subject, and they became silent again. Muriel walked with her eyes fixed straight before her. But she did notsee the brown earth underfoot or the bare trees that swayed overheadin the racing winter wind. She was back again in the heart of theSimla pines, hearing horses' feet that stamped below her window in thedawning, and a gay, cracked voice that sang. 

Her companion's voice recalled her. "I suppose Daisy will stay herefor the summer. "

"I suppose so, " she answered. 

Grange went on with some hesitation. "The little chap doesn't look asif he would ever stand the Indian climate. What will happen? Will sheever consent to leave him with the Ratcliffes?"

"I am quite certain she won't, " Muriel answered, with unfalteringconviction. "She simply lives for him. "

"I thought so, " Grange said rather sadly. "It would go hard with herif--if--"

Muriel's dark eyes flashed swift entreaty. "Oh, don't say it! Don'tthink it! I believe it would kill her. "

"She is stronger, though?" he questioned almost sharply. 

"Yes, yes, much stronger. Only--not strong enough for that. CaptainGrange, it simply couldn't happen. "

They had reached a gate at the end of the field. Grange stopped beforeit, and spoke with sudden, deep feeling. 

"If it does happen, Muriel, " he said, using her Christian name quiteunconsciously, "we shall have to stand by her, you and I. You won'tleave her, will you? You would be of more use to her than I. Oh, it's--it's damnable to see a woman in trouble and not be able tocomfort her. "

He brought his ungloved hand down upon the gate-post with a violencethat drew blood; then, seeing her face of amazement, thrust it hastilybehind him. 

"I'm a fool, " he said, with his shy, semi-apologetic smile. "Don'tmind me, Miss Roscoe. You know, I--I'm awfully fond of Daisy, alwayswas. My people were her people, and when they died we were the onlytwo left, as it were. Of course she was married by that time, andthere are some other relations somewhere. But we've always hungtogether, she and I. You can understand it, can't you?"

Muriel fancied she could, but his vehemence startled her none theless. She had not deemed him capable of such intensity. 

"I suppose you feel almost as if she were your sister, " she remarked, groping half-unconsciously for an explanation. 

Grange was holding the gate open for her. He did not instantly reply. 

Then, "I don't exactly know what that feels like, " he said, with anodd shame-facedness. "But in so far as that we have been playfellowsand chums all our lives, I suppose you might describe it in that way. "

And Muriel, though she wondered a little at the laborious honesty ofhis reply, was satisfied that she understood. 

She was drifting into a very pleasant friendship with Blake Grange. He seemed to rely upon her in an indefinable fashion that made theirintercourse of necessity one of intimacy. Moreover, Daisy's habitswere still more or less those of an invalid, and this fact helped verymaterially to throw them together. 

To Muriel, emerging slowly from the long winter of her sorrow, thegrowing friendship with this man whom she both liked and admired wasas a shaft of sunshine breaking across a grey landscape. Insensiblyit was doing her good. The deep shadow of a horror that once hadoverwhelmed her was lifting gradually away from her life. In herhappier moments it almost seemed that she was beginning to forget. 

Grange's suggestion that they should ride together awoke in her akeener sense of pleasure than she had known since the tragedy of Warahad darkened her young life, and for the rest of the day she lookedforward eagerly to the resumption of this her favourite exercise. 

Daisy was delighted with the idea, and when on the following morningGrange ransacked the town for suitable mounts and returned triumphant, she declared gaily that she should take no further trouble for herguest's entertainment. The responsibility from that day forth restedwith Muriel. 

Muriel was by no means loth to assume it. They got on excellentlytogether, and their almost daily rides became a source of keenpleasure to her. Winter was fast merging into spring, and the magicof the coming season was working in her blood. There were times whena sense of spontaneous happiness would come over her, she knew notwherefore. Jim Ratcliffe no longer looked at her with stern-broweddisapproval. 

She and Grange both became regular members of Olga's hockey team. Theyshared most of their pursuits. Among other things she was learning theaccompaniments of his songs. Grange had a well-cultivated tenor voice, to which Daisy the restless would listen for any length of time. 

Altogether they were a very peaceful trio, and as the weeks slipped onit almost seemed as if the quiet home life they lived were destined toendure indefinitely. Grange spoke occasionally of leaving, but Daisywould never entertain the idea for an instant, and he certainly didnot press it very strongly. He was not returning to India beforeSeptember, and the long summer months that intervened made the dateof his departure so remote as to be outside discussion. No one everthought of it. 

But the long, quiet interval in the sleepy little country town, interminable as it might feel, was not destined to last for ever. Ona certain afternoon in March, Grange and Muriel, riding home togetherafter a windy gallop across open country, were waylaid outside thedoctor's gate by one of the Ratcliffe boys. 

The urchin was cheering at the top of his voice and dancingecstatically in the mud. Olga, equally dishevelled but somewhat morecoherent, was seated on the gate-post, her long legs dangling. 

"Have you seen Dad? Have you heard?" was her cry. "Jimmy, come out ofthe road. You'll be kicked. "

Both riders pulled up to hear the news, Jimmy squirming away fromthe horses' legs after a fashion that provoked even the mild-temperedGrange to a sharp reproof. 

"You haven't heard?" pursued Olga, ignoring her small brother'sescapade as too trifling to notice at such a supreme moment. "But youhaven't, of course, if you haven't seen Dad. The letter only came anhour ago. It's Nick, dear old Nick! He's coming home at last!" Inher delight over imparting the information Olga nearly toppled overbackwards, only saving herself by a violent effort. "Aren't you glad, Muriel? Aren't you glad?" she cried. "I was never so pleased in mylife!"

But Muriel had no reply ready. For some reason her animal had becomesuddenly restive, and occupied the whole of her attention. 

It was Grange who after a seconds hesitation asked for furtherparticulars. "What is he coming for? Is it sick leave?"

Olga nodded. "He isn't to stay out there for the hot weather. It'ssomething to do with his wound. He doesn't want to come a bit. But heis to start almost at once. He may be starting now. "

"Not likely, " put in Jimmy. "The end of March was what he said. Dadsaid he couldn't be here before the third week in April. "

"Oh, well, that isn't long, is it?" said Olga eagerly. "Not when youcome to remember that it's three years since he went away. I do thinkthey might have given him the V. C. , don't you? Captain Grange, whyhasn't he got the V. C. ?"

Grange couldn't say, really. He advised her to ask the man himself. He was observing Muriel with some uneasiness, and when she at lengthabruptly waved her whip and rode sharply on as though her horsewere beyond her control, he struck spurs into his own and started inpursuit. 

Muriel passed her own gate at a canter, but hearing Grange behind hershe soon reined in, and they trotted some distance side by side insilence. 

But Grange was still uneasy. The girl's rigid profile had that stony, aloof look that he had noted upon his arrival weeks before, and thathe had come to associate with her escape from Wara. 

Nevertheless, when she presently addressed him it was in her ordinarytone and upon a subject indifferent to them both. She had received ashock, he knew, but she plainly did not wish him to remark it. 

They rode quite soberly back again, and separated at the door. 

CHAPTER XXI

A HARBOUR OF REFUGE

To Daisy the news that Grange imparted was more pleasing thanstartling. "I knew he would come before long if he were a wise man, "she said. 

But when her cousin wanted to know what she meant, she would not tellhim. 

"No, I can't, Blake, " was her answer. "I once promised Muriel never tospeak of it. She is very sensitive on the subject. "

Grange did not press for an explanation. It was not his way. He lefther moodily, a frown of deep dissatisfaction upon his handsome face. Daisy did not spend much thought upon him. Her interests at thattime were almost wholly centred upon her boy who was so backward anddelicate that she was continually anxious about him. She was, in fact, so preoccupied that she hardly noticed at dinner that Muriel scarcelyspoke and ate next to nothing. 

Grange remarked both facts, and his moodiness increased. WhenDaisy went up to the nursery, he at once followed Muriel into thedrawing-room. She was standing by the window when he entered, a slim, straight figure in unrelieved black; but though she must have heardhim, she neither spoke nor turned her head. 

Grange closed the door and came softly forward. There was an unwontedair of resolution about him that made him look almost grim. He reachedher side and stood there silently. The wind had fallen, and the skywas starry. 

After a brief silence Muriel dropped the blind and looked at him. There was something of interrogation in her glance. 

"Shall we go into the garden?" she suggested. "It is so warm. "

He fell in at once with the proposal. "You will want a cloak, " hesaid. "Can I fetch you one?"

"Oh, thanks! Anything will do. I believe there's one of Daisy's in thehall. "

She moved across the room quickly, as one impatient to escape from aconfined space. Grange followed her. He was not smoking as usual. Theywent out together into the warm darkness, and passed side by sidedown the narrow path that wound between the bare flower-beds. It wasa wonderful night. Once as they walked there drifted across them asudden fragrance of violets. 

They reached at length a rustic gate that led into the doctor'smeadow, and here with one consent they stopped. Very far away a faintwind was stirring, but close at hand there was no sound. Again, fromthe wet earth by the gate, there rose the magic scent of violets. 

Muriel rested her clasped hands upon the gate, and spoke in a voiceunconsciously hushed. 

"I never realised how much I liked this place before, " she said. "Isn't it odd? I have been actually happy here--and I didn't know it. "

"You are not happy to-night, " said Grange. 

She did not attempt to contradict him. "I think I am rather tired, "she said. 

"I don't think that is quite all, " he returned, with quiet conviction. 

She moved, turning slightly towards him; but she said nothing, thoughhe obviously waited for some response. 

For awhile he was discouraged, and silence fell again upon them. Thenat length he braced himself for an effort. For all his shyness he wasnot without a certain strength. 

"Miss Roscoe, " he said, "do you remember how you once promised thatyou would always regard me as a friend?"

She turned fully towards him then, and he saw her face dimly in thestarlight. He thought she looked very pale. 

"I do, " she said simply. 

In a second his diffidence fell away from him. He realised that theground on which he stood was firm. He bent towards her. 

"I want you to keep that promise of yours in its fullest senseto-night, Muriel, " he said, and his soft voice had in it almost acaressing note. "I want you--if you will--to tell me what is thematter. "

Muriel stood before him with her face upturned. He could not read herexpression, but he knew by her attitude that she had no thought ofrepelling him. 

"What is it?" he urged gently. "Won't you tell me?"

"Don't you know?" she asked him slowly. 

"I only know that what we heard this afternoon upset you, " heanswered. "And I don't understand it. I am asking you to explain. "

"You will only think me very foolish and absurd. "

There was a deep quiver in the words, and he knew that she wastrembling. Very kindly he laid his hand upon her shoulder. 

"Can't you trust me better than that?" he asked. 

She did not answer him. Her breathing became suddenly sharp andirregular, and he realised that she was battling for self-control. 

"I don't know if I can make you understand, " she said at last. "But Iwill try. "

"Yes, try!" he said gently. "You won't find it so very difficult. "

She turned back to the gate, and leaned wearily upon it. 

"You are very kind. You always have been. I couldn't tell any oneelse--not even Daisy. You see, she is--his friend. But you aredifferent. I don't think you like him, do you?"

Grange hesitated a little. "I won't go so far as to say that, " hesaid finally. "We get on all right. I was never very intimate with thefellow. I think he is a bit callous. "

"Callous!" Muriel gave a sudden hard shudder. "He is much worse thancallous. He is hideously, almost devilishly cruel. But--but--he isn'tonly that. Blake, do you think he is quite human? He is so horribly, so unnaturally strong. "

Grange heard the scared note in her voice, and drew very close to her. "I think, " he said quietly, "that--without knowing it--you exaggerateboth his cruelty and his strength. I know he is a queer chap. I onceheard it said of him that he has the eyes of a snake-charmer, and Ibelieve it more or less. But I assure you he is human--quite human. And"--he spoke with unwonted emphasis--"he has no more power overyou--not an inch--than you choose to give him. "

Muriel uttered a faint sigh. "I knew I should never make youunderstand. "

Grange was silent. He might have retorted that she had given him verylittle information to go upon, but he forebore. There was an almostcolossal patience about this man. His silence had in it nothing ofresentment. 

After a few seconds Muriel went on, her voice very low. "I would giveanything--all I have--not to meet him when he comes back. But I don'tknow how to get away from him. He is sure to seek me out. And I--I amonly a girl. I can't prevent it. "

Again there sounded that piteous quiver in her words. It was like thecry of a lost child. Grange heard it, and clenched his hands, but hedid not speak. He was gazing straight ahead, stern-eyed and still. 

Muriel scarcely noticed his attitude. Having at length broken throughher barrier of reserve, she found a certain relief in speech. 

"I might go away, of course, " she said. "I expect I shall do that, forI don't think I could endure it here. But I haven't many friends. My year in India seemed to cut me off from every one. It's a littledifficult to know where to go. And then, too, there is Daisy. "

She paused, and suddenly Grange spoke, with more abruptness than washis wont. 

"Why do you think he is sure to seek you out? Did he ever say so?"

She shivered. "No, he never said so. But--but--in a way I feel it. He is so merciless. He always makes me think of an eagle swoopingdown on its prey. No doubt you think me very fanciful and ridiculous. Perhaps I am. But once--in the mountains--he told me that I belongedto him--that he would not let me go, and--and--I have never been ableto forget it. "

Her voice sank, and it seemed to Grange that she was crying in thedarkness. Her utter forlornness pierced him to the heart. He leanedtowards her, trying ineffectually to see her face. 

"My dear little girl, " he said gently, "don't be so distressed. Hedeserves to be kicked for frightening you like this. "

"It's my own fault, " she whispered back. "If I were stronger, or ifDaddy were with me--it would be different. But I am all alone. Thereis no one to help me. I used to think it didn't matter what happenedto me, but I am beginning to feel it does. "

"Of course it does, " Grange said. His hand felt along the rail forhers, and, finding them, held them closely. Her weakness gave himconfidence. "Poor child!" he murmured softly. "Poor little girl! Youdo want some one to take care of you. "

Muriel mastered herself with an effort. It was not often now that shegave way so completely. 

"It's only now and then, " she said. "It's better than it used to be. Only somehow I got frightened when I heard that Nick was coming. Idaresay--when I begin to get used to the idea--I shan't mind it quiteso much. Never mind about my silly worries any more. No doubt I shallget wiser as I grow older. "

She tried to laugh with the words, but somehow no laugh came. Grange'sgreat hand closed very tightly upon hers, and she looked up insurprise. 

Almost instantly he began to speak, very humbly, but also veryresolutely. "Muriel, " he said, "I'm an unutterable fool at expressingthings. I can only say them straight out and hope for the best. Youwant a protector, don't you? And I--should like to be the one toprotect you if--if it were ever possible for you to think of me inthat light. "

He spoke with immense effort. He was afraid of scaring her, afraid ofhurting her desolate young heart, afraid almost of the very impulsethat moved him to speak. 

Absolute silence reigned when he ended. 

Muriel had become suddenly rigid, and so still that she did not seemto breathe. For several seconds he waited, but still she made no sign. He had not the remotest clue to guide him. He began to feel as if adoor had unexpectedly closed against him, not violently, but steadily, soundlessly, barring him out. 

It was but a fleeting impression. In a few moments more it was gone. She drew a long quivering breath, and turned slightly towards him. 

"I would rather trust myself to you, " she said, "than to any one elsein the world. "

She spoke in her deep, sincere voice which gave him no doubt that shemeant what she said, and at once his own trepidation departed. He puthis arm around her, and pressed her close to him. 

"Come to me then, " he said very tenderly. "And I will take such careof you, Muriel, that no one shall ever frighten you again. "

She yielded to his touch as simply as a child, leaning her headagainst him with a little, weary gesture of complete confidence. Shewas desperately tired of standing alone. 

"I know I shall be safe with you, " she whispered. 

"Quite safe, dear, " he answered gravely. He paused a moment as thoughirresolute; then, still holding her closely, he bent and kissed herforehead. 

He did it very quietly and reverently, but at the action she started, almost shrank. One of those swift flashes of memory came suddenly uponher, and as in a vision she beheld another face bending over her--ayellow, wrinkled face of terrible emaciation, with eyes of flickeringfire--eyes that never slept--and heard a voice, curiously brokenand incoherent that seemed to pray. She could not catch the words ituttered. 

The old wild panic rushed over her, the old frenzied longing toescape. With a sobbing gasp she turned in Grange's arms, and clung tohim. 

"Oh, Captain Grange, " she panted piteously, "promise--promise you willnever let me go!"

Her agitation surprised him, but it awaked in him a responsivetenderness that compassed her with a strength bred rather of emergencythan habit. 

"My little girl, I swear I will never let you go, " he said, with graveassurance. "You are quite safe now. No one shall ever take you fromme. "

And it was to Muriel as if, after long and futile battling in the opensea, she had drifted at last into the calm heaven which surely hadalways been the goal of her desires. 

CHAPTER XXII

AN OLD STORY

Jim Ratcliffe was in the drawing-room with Daisy when they returned. He scrutinised them both somewhat sharply as they came in, but he madeno comment upon their preference for the garden. Very soon he rose totake his leave. 

Grange accompanied him to the door, and Muriel, suddenly possessed byan overwhelming sense of shyness, bent over Daisy and murmured a hastygoodnight. 

Daisy looked at her for a moment. "Tired, dear?"

"A little, " Muriel admitted. 

"I hope you haven't been catching cold--you and Blake, " Daisy said, asshe kissed her. 

Muriel assured her to the contrary, and hastened to make her escape. In the hall she came face to face with Blake. He met her with a smile. 

"What! Going up already?"

She nodded. Her face was burning. For an instant her hand lay in his. 

"You tell Daisy, " she whispered, and fled upstairs like a scared bird. 

Grange stood till she was out of sight; then turned aside to thedrawing-room, the smile wholly gone from his face. 

Daisy, from her seat before the fire, looked up with her gay laugh. "I'm sure there is a secret brewing between you two, " she declared. "Ican feel it in my bones. "

Grange closed the door carefully. There was a queer look on his face, almost an apprehensive look. He took up his stand on the hearthrugbefore he spoke. 

"You are not far wrong, Daisy, " he said then. 

She answered him lightly as ever. "I never am, my dear Blake. Surelyyou must have noticed it. Well, am I to be let into the plot, or not?"

He looked at her for a moment uneasily. "Of course we shall tell you, "he said. "It--it's not a thing we could very well keep to ourselvesfor any length of time. "

A sudden gleam of understanding flashed into Daisy's upturned face, and instantly her expression changed. With a swift, vehement movementshe sprang up and stood before him. 

"Blake!" she exclaimed, and in her voice astonishment, dismay, andeven reproach were mingled. 

He averted his eyes from hers. "Won't you congratulate me, Daisy?" hesaid, speaking almost under his breath. 

Daisy had turned very white. She put out both hands, and leaned uponthe mantelpiece. 

"But, my dear Blake, " she said, after a moment, "she is not for you. "

"What do you mean?" Grange's jaw suddenly set itself. He squaredhis great shoulders as if instinctively bracing himself to meetopposition. 

"I mean"--Daisy spoke very quietly and emphatically--"I mean, Blake, that she is Nick's property. She belonged to Nick before ever youthought of wanting her. I never dreamed that you would do anythingso shabby as to step in at the last moment, just when Nick is cominghome, and cut him out. How could you do such a thing, Blake? Butsurely it isn't irrevocable? You can't have said anything definite?"

Grange's face had become very stern. He no longer avoided her eyes. For once he was really angry, and showed it. 

"You make a mistake, " he told her curtly. "I have done nothingwhatever of which I am ashamed, or of which any man could be ashamed. Certainly I have taken a definite step. I have proposed to her, andshe has accepted me. With regard to Nick Ratcliffe, I believe myselfthat the fellow is something of a blackguard, but in any case she bothfears and hates him. He can have no shadow of a right over her. "

"You forget that he saved her life, " said Daisy. 

"Is she to hold herself at his disposal on that account? I must say Ifail to see the obligation. "

There was even a hint of scorn in Grange's tone. At sound of it, Daisyturned round and laid her hand winningly upon his arm. 

"Dear old boy, " she said gently, "don't be angry. I'm not againstyou. "

He softened instantly. It was not in him to harbour resentment againsta woman. He took her hand, and heaved a deep sigh. 

"No, Daisy, " he said half sadly, "you mustn't be against me. I alwayscount on you. "

Daisy laughed a little wistfully. "Always did, dear, didn't you? Well, tell me some more. What made you propose all of a sudden like this?Are you--very much in love?"

He looked at her. "Perhaps not quite as we used to understand theterm, " he said, seeming to speak half-reluctantly. 

"Oh, we were very extravagant and foolish, " rejoined Daisy lightly. "I didn't mean quite in that way, Blake. You at least are past the agefor such feathery nonsense, or should be. I was--aeons and aeons ago. "

"Were you?" he said, and still he looked at her half in wonder, itseemed, and half in regret. 

Daisy nodded at him briskly. The colour had come back to her face. "Yes, I have arrived at years of discretion, " she assured him. "And Iquite agree with Solomon that childhood and youth are vanity. But nowlet us talk about this. Is she in love with you, I wonder? I must beremarkably blind not to have seen it. How in the world I shall everface Nick again, I can't imagine. "

Grange frowned. "I'm getting a bit tired of Nick, " he said moodily. "He crops up everywhere. "

Daisy's face flushed. "Don't you ever again say a word against him inmy hearing, " she said. "For I won't bear it. He may not be handsomelike you; but for all that, he's about the finest man I know. "

"Good heavens!" said Blake. "As much as that!"

She nodded vehemently. "Yes, quite as much. And he loves her, too, loves her with his whole soul. Perhaps you never knew that they wouldhave been married long ago in Simla if Muriel hadn't overheard somemalicious gossip and thrown him over. How in the world she made himlet her go I never knew, but she did it, though I believe it nearlybroke his heart. He came to me afterwards and begged me to keep herwith me as long as I could, and take care of her. "

"All this, " broke in Grange, "is what you promised never to speak of?"

"Yes, " she admitted recklessly. "But it is what you ought toknow--what you must know--before you go any further. "

"It will make no difference to me, " he observed. "It is quite obviousthat she never cared for him in the smallest degree. Why, my deargirl, she hates the man!"

Daisy gave vent to a sigh of exasperation. "When you come to talkabout women's feelings, Blake, you make me tired. You will never beanything but a great big booby in that respect as long as you live. "

Grange became silent. He never argued with Daisy. She had always hadthe upper hand. He watched her as she sat down again, her pretty facein the glow of the fire; but though fully aware of the fact, she wouldnot look at him. 

"She is a dear girl, and you are not half good enough for her, " shesaid, stooping a little to the blaze. 

"I know that, " he answered bluntly. "I wasn't good enough for you, either, but you would have had me--once. "

She made a dainty gesture with one shoulder. "That also was aeons ago. Why disturb that poor old skeleton?"

He did not answer, but he continued to watch her steadily with eyesthat held an expression of dumb faithfulness--like the eyes of a dog. 

Daisy was softly and meditatively poking the fire. "If you marry her, Blake, " she said, "you will have to be enormously good to her. Sheisn't the sort of girl to be satisfied with anything but the best. "

"I should do my utmost to make her happy, " he answered. 

She glanced up momentarily. "I wonder if you would succeed, " shemurmured. 

For a single instant their eyes met. Daisy's fell away at once, andthe firelight showed a swift deepening of colour on her face. 

As for Blake, he stood quite stiff for a few seconds, then with anabruptness of movement unusual with him, he knelt suddenly down besideher. 

"Daisy, " he said, and his voice sounded strained, almost hoarse, "you're not vexed about it? You don't mind my marrying? It isn't--youknow--it isn't--as if--"

He broke off, for Daisy had jerked upright as if at the piercing of anerve. She looked at him fully, with blazing eyes. "How can you be soridiculous, Blake?" she exclaimed, with sharp impatience. "That wasall over and done with long, long ago, and you know it. Besides, evenif it hadn't been, I'm not a dog in the manger. Surely you know thattoo. Oh, go away, and don't be absurd!"

She put her hand against his shoulder, and gave him a small butvehement push. 

He stood up again immediately, but he did not look hurt, and theexpression of loyalty in his eyes never wavered. 

There was a short pause before Daisy spoke again. 

"Well, " she said, with a brief sigh, "I suppose it's no good cryingover spilt milk, but I wish you had chosen any girl in the world butMuriel, Blake; I do indeed. You will have to write to Sir ReginaldBassett. He is her guardian, subject to his wife's management. Perhapsshe will approve of you. She hated Nick for some reason. "

"I don't see how they can object, " Grange said, in the moody tone healways used when perplexed. 

"No, " said Daisy. "Nor did Nick. But Lady Bassett managed to put aspoke in his wheel notwithstanding. Still, if Muriel wants to marryyou--or thinks she does--she will probably take her own way. Andpossibly regret it afterwards. "

"You think I shall not make her happy?" said Grange. 

Daisy hesitated a little. "I think, " she said slowly, "that you arenot the man for her. However, "--she rose with another shrug--"I maybe wrong. In any case you have gone too far for me to meddle. I can'thelp either of you now. You must just do what you think best. " Sheheld out her hand. "I must go up now. Baby is restless to-night, andmay want me. Good-night. "

Blake stooped, and carried her hand softly and suddenly to his lips. He seemed for an instant on the verge of saying something, but nowords came. There was a faint, half-mocking smile on Daisy's faceas she turned away. But she was silent also. It seemed that theyunderstood each other. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE SLEEP CALLED DEATH

It was an unspeakable relief to Muriel that, in congratulating herupon her engagement, Daisy made no reference to Nick. She did not knowthat this forbearance had been dictated long before by Nick himself. 

The days that followed her engagement had in them a sort of rapturethat she had never known before. She felt as a young wild creaturesuddenly escaped from the iron jaws of a trap in which it had longlanguished, and she rioted in the sense of liberty that was hers. Heryouth was coming back to her in leaps and bounds with the advancingspring. 

She missed nothing in Blake's courtship. His gentleness had alwaysattracted her, and the intimacy that had been growing up between themmade their intercourse always easy and pleasant. They never spoke ofNick. But ever in Muriel's heart there lay the soothing knowledge thatshe had nothing more to fear. Her terrible, single-handed contestsagainst overwhelming odds were over, and she was safe. She wasconvinced that, whatever happened, Blake would take care of her. Washe not the protector she would have chosen from the beginning, couldshe but have had her way?

So, placidly and happily, the days drifted by, till March was nearlygone; and then, sudden and staggering as a shell from a maskedbattery, there fell the blow that was destined to end that peacefultime. 

Very late one night there came a nervous knocking at Muriel's door, and springing up from her bed she came face to face with Daisy's_ayah_. The woman was grey with fright, and babbling incoherently. Something about "baba" and the "mem-sahib" Muriel caught and instantlyguessed that the baby had been taken ill. She flung a wrap round her, and hastened to the nursery. 

It was a small room opening out of Daisy's bedroom. The light wasturned on full, and here Daisy herself was walking up and down withthe baby in her arms. 

Before Muriel was well in the room, she stopped and spoke. Her facewas ghastly pale, and she could not raise her voice above a whisper, though she made repeated efforts. "Go to Blake!" she panted. "Goquickly! Tell him to fetch Jim Ratcliffe. Quick! Quick!"

Muriel flew to do her bidding. In her anxiety she scarcely waited toknock at Blake's door, but burst in upon him headlong. The room was intotal darkness, but he awoke instantly. 

"Hullo! What is it? That you, Muriel?"

"Oh, Blake!" she gasped. "The child's ill. We want the doctor. "

He was up in a moment. She heard him groping for matches, but he onlysucceeded in knocking something over. 

"Can't you find them?" she asked. "Wait! I'll get you a light. "

She ran back to her own room and fetched a candle. Her hands wereshaking so that she could scarcely light it. Returning, she foundGrange putting on his clothes in the darkness. He was fully asflurried as she. 

As she set down the candle there arose a sudden awful sound in Daisy'sroom. 

Muriel stood still. "Oh, what is that?"

Grange paused in the act of dragging on his coat. "It's that damned_ayah_, " he said savagely. 

And in a second Muriel understood. Daisy's _ayah_ was wailing for thedead. 

She put her hands over her ears. The dreadful cry seemed to pierceright through to her very soul. Then she remembered Daisy, and turnedto go to her. 

Out in the passage she met the white-faced English servants huddlingtogether and whispering. One of them was sobbing hysterically. Shepassed them swiftly by. 

Back in Daisy's room she found the _ayah_ crouched on the floor, androcking herself to and fro while she beat her breast and wailed. Thedoor that led into the nursery was closed. 

Muriel advanced fiercely upon the woman. She almost felt as ifshe could have choked her. She seized her by the shoulders withoutceremony. The _ayah_ ceased her wailing for a moment, then recommencedin a lower key. Muriel pulled her to her feet, half-dragged, half-ledher to her own room, thrust her within, and locked the door upon her. Then she returned to Daisy. 

She found her sunk in a rocking-chair before the waning fire, softlyswaying to and fro with the baby on her breast. She looked at Murielentering, with a set, still face. 

"Has Blake gone?" she asked, still in that dry, powerless whisper. 

Muriel moved to her side, and knelt down. "He is just going, " shebegan to say, but the words froze on her lips. 

She remained motionless for a long second, gazing at the tiny, waxenface on Daisy's breast. And for that second her heart stood still; forshe knew that the baby was dead. 

From the closed room across the passage came the muffled sound of the_ayah's_ wailing. Daisy made a slight impatient movement. 

"Stir the fire, " she whispered. "He feels so cold. "

But Muriel did not move to obey. Instead she held out her arms. 

"Let me take him, dear, " she begged tremulously. Daisy shook her headwith a jealous tightening of her clasp. "He has been so ill, poor weedarling, " she whispered. "It came on so suddenly. There was no timeto do anything. But he is easier now. I think he is asleep. We won'tdisturb him. "

Muriel said no more. She rose and blindly poked the fire. Then--forthe sight of Daisy rocking her dead child with that set, ashen facewas more than she could bear--she turned and stole away, softlyclosing the door behind her. 

Again meeting the English servants hovering outside, she sent themdownstairs to light the kitchen fire, going herself to the dining-roomwindow to watch for the doctor. Her feet were bare and freezing, butshe would not return to her room for slippers. She felt she could notendure that awful wailing at close quarters again. Even as it was, sheheard it fitfully; but from the nursery there came no sound. 

She wondered if Blake had gone across the meadow to the doctor'shouse--it was undoubtedly the shortest cut--and tried to calculate howlong it would take him. 

The waiting was intolerable. She bore it with a desperate endurance. She could not rid herself of the feeling that somehow Nick was nearher. She almost expected to see him come lightly in and stand besideher. Once or twice she turned shivering to assure herself that she wasreally alone. 

There came at last the click of the garden-gate. They had come acrossthe drenched meadows. In a transient gleam of moonlight she saw thetwo figures striding towards her. Grange stopped a moment to fastenthe gate. The doctor came straight on. 

She ran to the front door and threw it open. The wind blew swirlingall about her, but she never felt it, though her very lips were numband cold. 

"It's too late!" she gasped, as he entered. "It's too late!"

Jim Ratcliffe took her by the shoulders and forced her away from theopen door. 

"Go and put something on, " he ordered, "instantly!"

There was no resisting the mastery of his tone. She responded to itinstinctively, hardly knowing what she did. 

The _ayah's_ paroxysm of grief had sunk to a low moaning when shere-entered her room. It sounded like a dumb creature in pain. Hastilyshe dressed, and twisted up her hair with fingers that she strove invain to steady. 

Then noiselessly she crept back to the nursery. 

Daisy was still rocking softly to and fro before the ore, her piteousburden yet clasped against her heart. The doctor was stooping overher, and Muriel saw the half-eager, half-suspicious look in Daisy'seyes as she watched him. She was telling him in rapid whispers whathad happened. 

He listened to her very quietly, his keen eyes fixed unblinking uponthe baby's face. When she ended, he stooped a little lower, his handupon her arm. 

"Let me take him, " he said. 

Muriel trembled for the answer, remembering the instant refusal withwhich her own offer had been met. But Daisy made no sort of protest. She seemed to yield mechanically. 

Only, as he lifted the tiny body from her breast, a startled, almosta bereft look crossed her face, and she whispered quickly, "You won'tlet him cry?"

Jim Ratcliffe was silent a moment while he gazed intently at thelittle lifeless form he held. Then very gently, very pitifully, butwithal very steadily, his verdict fell through the silent room. 

"He will never cry any more. "

Daisy was on her feet in a moment, the agony in her eyes terrible tosee. "Jim! Jim!" she gasped, in a strangled voice. "He isn't dead!My little darling, --my baby, --the light of my eyes; tell me--heisn't--dead!"

She bent hungrily over the burden he held, and then gazed wildly intohis face. She was shaking as one in an ague. 

Quietly he drew the head-covering over the baby's face. "My dear, " hesaid, "there is no death. "

The words were few, spoken almost in an undertone; but they sent acurious, tingling thrill through Muriel--a thrill that seemed toreach her heart. For the first time, unaccountably, wholly intangibly, she was aware of a strong resemblance between this man whom shehonoured and the man she feared. She almost felt as if Nick himselfhad uttered the words. 

Standing dumbly by the door, she saw the doctor stoop to lay the poorlittle body down in the cot, saw Daisy's face of anguish, and thesudden, wide-flung spread of her empty arms. 

The next moment, her woman's instinct prompting her, she sprangforward; and it was she who caught the stricken mother as she fell. 

CHAPTER XXIV

THE CREED OF A FIGHTER

It was growing very hot in the plains. A faint breeze born at sunsethad died away long ago, leaving a wonderful, breathless stillnessbehind. The man who sat at work on his verandah with his shirt-sleevesturned up above his elbows sighed heavily from time to time as ifhe felt some oppression in the atmosphere. He was quite a young man, fair-skinned and clean-shaven, with an almost pathetically boyish lookabout him, a wistful expression as of one whose youth still enduredthough the zest thereof was denied to him. His eyes were weary andbloodshot, but he worked on steadily, indefatigably, never raisingthem from the paper under his hand. 

Even when a step sounded in the room behind him, he scarcely lookedup. "One moment, old chap!" He was still working rapidly as he spoke. "I've a toughish bit to get through. I'll talk to you in a minute. "

There was no immediate reply. A man's figure, dressed in white linen, with one arm quite invisible under the coat, stood halting for amoment in the doorway, then moved out and slowly approached the tableat which the other sat. 

The lamplight, gleaming upwards, revealed a yellow face of manywrinkles, and curious, glancing eyes that shone like fireflies in thegloom. 

He stopped beside the man who worked. "All right, " he said. "Finishwhat you are doing. "

In the silence that followed he seemed to watch the hand that movedover the paper with an absorbing interest. The instant it rested hespoke. 

"Done?"

The man in the chair stretched out his arms with a long gesture ofweariness; then abruptly leapt to his feet. 

"What am I thinking of, keeping you standing here? Sit down, Nick!Yes, I've done for the present. What a restless beggar you are! Whycouldn't you lie still for a spell?"

Nick grimaced. "It's an accomplishment I have never been able toacquire. Besides, there's no occasion for it now. If I were going todie, it would be a different thing, and even then I think I'drather die standing. How are you getting on, my son? What mean thesehieroglyphics?"

He dropped into the empty chair and pored over the paper. 

"Oh, you wouldn't understand if I told you, " the other answered. "You're not an engineer. "

"Not even a greaser of wheels. " admitted Nick modestly. "But youneedn't throw it in my teeth. I suppose you are going to make yourfortune soon and retire--you and Daisy and the imp--to a respectablesuburb. You're a very lucky chap, Will. "

"Think so?" said Will. 

He was bending a little over his work. His tone sounded either absentor dubious. 

Nick glanced at him, and suddenly swept his free right hand across thetable. "Put it away!" he said. "You're overdoing it. Get the wretchedstuff out of your head for a bit, and let's have a smoke beforedinner. I'll bring her out to you next winter. See if I don't!"

Will turned towards him impulsively. "Oh, man, if you only could!"

"Only could!" echoed Nick. "I tell you I will. Ten quid on it if youlike. Is it done?"

But Will shook his head with a queer, unsteady smile. "No, itisn't. But come along and smoke, or you will be having that infernalneuralgia again. It was confoundedly good of you to look me up likethis when you weren't fit for it. "

Nick laughed aloud. "Man alive! You don't suppose I did it for yoursake, do you? Don't you know I wanted to break the journey to thecoast?"

"Odd place to choose!" commented Will. 

Nick arose in his own peculiarly abrupt fashion, and thrust his handthrough his friend's arm. 

"Perhaps I thought a couple of days of your society would cheer meup, " he observed lightly. "I daresay that seems odd too. "

Will laughed in spite of himself. "Well, you've seen me with mynose to the grindstone anyhow. You can tell Daisy I'm working like atroop-horse for her and the boy! Jove! What a knowing little beggarthat youngster used to be! He isn't very strong though, Daisy writes. "

"How often do you hear?" asked Nick. 

"Oh, the last letter came three weeks ago. They were all well then, but she didn't stop to say much because Grange was there. He isstaying with them, you know. "

"You haven't heard since then?" There was just a hint of indignationin Nick's query. 

Will shook his head. "No. She's a bad correspondent, always was. Iwrite by every mail, and of course, if there were anything I oughtto know, she would write too. But they are leading a fairly humdrumexistence just now. She can't have much to tell me. "

Nick changed the subject. "How long has Grange been there?"

"I don't know. Some time, I think. But I really don't know. They arevery old pals, you know, he and Daisy. There was a bit of a romancebetween them, I believe, years ago, when she was in her teens. Theirpeople wouldn't hear of it because they were first cousins, so itfizzled out. But they are still great friends. A good sort of fellow, I always thought. "

"Too soft for me, " said Nick. "He's like a well-built ship adriftwithout a rudder. He's all manners and no grit--the sort of chap whowants to be pushed before he can do anything. I often ached to kickhim when we were boxed up at Wara. "

Will smiled. "The only drawback to indulging in that kind of gameis that you may get kicked back, and a kick from a giant like Grangewould be no joke. "

Nick looked supremely contemptuous. "Fellows like Grange don't kick. They don't know how. That's why I had to leave him alone. "

He turned into Will's sitting-room and stretched himself out upon anancient _charpoy_ furnished with many ancient cushions that stood bythe window. 

Will gave him a cigarette, and lighted it. "I wonder how many nights Ihave spent on that old shake-down, " he remarked, as he did it. 

Nick glanced upwards. "Last year?"

Will nodded. "It was like hell, " he said, with terrible simplicity. "Icame straight back here, you know, after Daisy left Simla. I supposethe contrast made it worse. Then, too, the sub was ill, and it meantdouble work. Well, " with another sigh, "we pulled through somehow, and I suppose we shall again. But, Nick, Daisy couldn't possibly standthis place more than four months out of the twelve. And as for thekiddie--"

Nick removed his cigarette to yawn. 

"You won't be here all your life, my son, " he said. "You're a risingman, remember. There's no sense in grizzling, anyhow, and you'regetting round-shouldered. Why don't you do some gymnastics? You'vegot a swimming bath. Go and do a quarter of a mile breast-stroke everyday. Jupiter! What wouldn't I give to"--He broke off abruptly. "Well, I'm not going to cry for the moon either. There's the _khit_ on theverandah. What does he want?"

Will went out to see. Nick, idly watching, saw the native hand himsomething on a salver which Will took to the lamp by which he had beenworking. Dead silence ensued. From far away there came the hauntingcry of a jackal, but near at hand there was no sound. A greatstillness hung upon all things. 

To Nick, lying at full length upon the cushions, there presently camethe faint sound of paper crackling, and a moment later his friend'svoice, pitched very low, spoke to the waiting servant. He heard theman softly retire, and again an intense stillness reigned. 

He could not see Will from where he lay, and he smoked on placidly fornearly five minutes in the belief that he was either answeringsome communication or looking over his work. Then at last, growingimpatient of the prolonged silence, he lifted his voice withoutmoving. 

"What in the world are you doing, you unsociable beggar? Can't youtear yourself away from that beastly work for one night even? Come inhere and entertain me. You won't have the chance to-morrow. "

There was no reply. Only from far away there came again the weird yellof a jackal. For a few seconds more Nick lay frowning. Then swiftlyand quietly he arose, and stepped to the window. 

There he stopped dead as if in sudden irresolution; for Will was sunkupon his knees by the table with his head upon his work and his armsflung out with clenched hands in an attitude of the most utter, themost anguished despair. He made no sound of any sort; only, as Nickwatched, his bowed shoulders heaved once convulsively. 

It was only for a moment that Nick stood hesitating. The next, obeyingan impulse that he never stopped to question, he moved straightforward to Will's side; and then saw--what he had not at first seen--apiece of paper crumpled and gripped in one of his hands. 

He bent over him and spoke rapidly, but without agitation. "Hullo, oldboy! What is it! Bad news, eh?"

Will started and groaned, then sharply turned his face upwards. It washaggard and drawn and ghastly, but even then its boyishness remained. 

He spoke at once, replying to Nick in short, staccato tones. "I'vehad a message--just come through. It's the kiddie--our little chap--hedied--last night. "

Nick heard the news in silence. After a moment he stooped forward andtook the paper out of Will's hand, thrusting it away without a glanceinto his own pocket. Then he took him by the arm and hoisted him up. "Come inside!" he said briefly. 

Will went with him blindly, too stricken to direct his own movements. 

And so he presently found himself crouching forward in a chair staringat Nick's steady hand mixing whiskey and water in a glass at hiselbow. As Nick held it towards him he burst into sudden, wild speech. 

"I've lost her!" he exclaimed harshly. "I've lost her! It was only thekiddie that bound us together. She never cared a half-penny aboutme. I always knew I should never hold her unless we had a child. Andnow--and now--"

"Easy!" said Nick. "Easy! Just drink this like a good chap. There's nosense in letting yourself go. "

Will drank submissively, and covered his face. "Oh, man, " he whisperedbrokenly, "you don't know what it is to be despised by the one beingin the world you worship. "

Nick said nothing. His lips twitched a little, that was all. 

But when several miserable seconds had dragged away and Will hadnot moved, he bent suddenly down and put his arm round the huddledshoulders. "Keep a stiff upper lip, old chap, " he urged gently. "Don'tknock under. She'll be coming to you for comfort presently. "

"Not she!" groaned Will. "I shall never get near her again. She'llnever come back to me. I know. I know. "

"Don't be a fool!" said Nick still gently. "You don't know. Of courseshe will come back to you. If you stick to her, she'll stick to you. "

Will made a choked sound of dissent. Nevertheless, after a moment heraised his quivering face, and gripped hard the hand that pressed hisshoulder. "Thanks, dear fellow! You're awfully good. Forgive me formaking an ass of myself. I--I was awfully fond of the little nippertoo. Poor Daisy! She'll be frightfully cut up. " He broke off, bitinghis lips. 

"Do you know, " he said presently in a strained whisper, "I've wantedher sometimes--so horribly, that--that I've even been fool enough topray about it. "

He glanced up as he made this confidence, half expecting to readridicule on the alert face above him, but the expression it woresurprised him. It was almost a fighting look, and wholly free fromcontempt. 

Nick seated himself on the edge of the table, and smote him on theshoulder. "My dear chap, " he said, with a sudden burst of energy, "you're only at the beginning of things. It isn't just praying now andthen that does it. You've got to keep up the steam, never slack for aninstant, whatever happens. The harder going it is, the more likelyyou are to win through if you stick to it. But directly you slack, you lose ground. If you've only got the grit to go on praying, prayinghard, even against your own convictions, you'll get it sooner orlater. You are bound to get it. They say God doesn't always grantprayer because the thing you want may not do you any good. That'sgammon--futile gammon. If you want it hard enough, and keep onclamouring for it, it becomes the very thing of all others youneed--the great essential. And you'll get it for that very reason. It's sheer pluck that counts, nothing else--the pluck to go onfighting when you know perfectly well you're beaten, the pluck to hangon and worry, worry, worry, till you get your heart's desire. "

He sprang up with a wide-flung gesture. "I'm doing it myself, " hesaid, and his voice rang with a certain grim elation. "I'm doing itmyself. And God knows I sha'n't give Him any peace till I'm satisfied. I may be small, but if I were no bigger than a mosquito, I'd keep onbuzzing. "

He walked to the end of the room, stood for a second, and came slowlyback. 

Will was looking at him oddly, almost as if he had never seen himbefore. 

"Do you know, " he said, smiling faintly, "I always thought you were arotter. "

"Most people do, " said Nick. "I believe it's my physiognomy that'sat fault. What can any one expect from a fellow with a face like anEgyptian mummy? Why, I've been mistaken for the devil himself beforenow. " He spoke with a semi-whimsical ruefulness, and, having spoken, he went to the window and stood there with his face to the darkness. 

"Hear that jackal, Will?" he suddenly said. "The brute is hungry. Youbet, he won't go empty away. "

"Jackals never do, " said Will, with his weary sigh. 

Nick turned round. "It shows what faithless fools we are, " he said. 

In the silence that followed, there came again to them, clear throughthe stillness, and haunting in its persistence, the crying of thebeast that sought its meat from God. 

CHAPTER XXV

A SCENTED LETTER

There is no exhaustion more complete or more compelling than theexhaustion of grief, and it is the most restless temperaments thatusually suffer from it the most keenly. It is those who have watchedconstantly, tirelessly, selflessly, for weeks or even months, for whomthe final breakdown is the most utter and the most heartrending. 

To Daisy, lying silent in her darkened room, the sudden ending of theprolonged strain, the cessation of the anxiety that had become a partof her very being, was more intolerable than the sense of desolationitself. It lay upon her like a physical, crushing weight, this absenceof care, numbing all her faculties. She felt that the worst hadhappened to her, the ultimate blow had fallen, and she cared fornought besides. 

In those first days of her grief she saw none but Muriel and thedoctor. Jim Ratcliffe was more uneasy about her than he wouldadmit. He knew as no one else knew what the strain had been upon theover-sensitive nerves, and how terribly the shock had wrenched them. He also knew that her heart was still in a very unsatisfactory state, and for many hours he dreaded collapse. 

He was inclined to be uneasy upon Muriel's account as well, at first, but she took him completely by surprise. Without a question, without aword, simply as a matter of course, she assumed the position ofnurse and constant companion to her friend. Her resolution and steadyself-control astonished him, but he soon saw that these were qualitiesupon which he could firmly rely. She had put her own weakness behindher, and in face of Daisy's utter need she had found strength. 

He suffered her to have her way, seeing how close was the bond ofsympathy between them, and realising that the very fact of supportingDaisy would be her own support. 

"You are as steady-going as a professional, " he told her once. 

To which she answered with her sad smile, "I served my probation inthe school of sorrow last year. I am only able to help her because Iknow what it is to sit in ashes. "

He patted her shoulder and called her a good girl. He was growing veryfond of her, and in his blunt, unflattering way he let her know it. 

Certain it was that in those terrible days following her bereavement, Daisy clung to her as she had never before clung to any one, scarcelyspeaking to her, but mutely leaning upon her steadfast strength. 

Muriel saw but little of Blake though he was never far away. Hewandered miserably about the house and garden, smoking endlesscigarettes, and invariably asking her with a piteous, dog-likewistfulness whenever they met if there were nothing that he could do. There never was anything, but she had not the heart to tell himso, and she used to invent errands for him to make him happier. Sheherself did not go beyond the garden for many days. 

One evening, about three weeks after her baby's death, Daisy heard hisstep on the gravel below her window and roused herself a little. 

"Who is taking care of Blake?" she asked. 

Muriel glanced down from where she sat at the great listless figurenearing the house. "I think he is taking care of himself, " she said. 

"All alone?" said Daisy. 

"Yes, dear. "

Daisy uttered a sudden hard sigh. "You mustn't spend all your timewith me any longer, " she said. "I have been very selfish. I forgot. Godown to him, Muriel. "

Muriel looked up, struck by something incomprehensible in hertone. "You know I like to be with you, " she said. "And of course heunderstands. "

But Daisy would not be satisfied. "That may be. But--but--I want youto go to him. He is lonely, poor boy. I can hear it in his step. Ialways know. "

Wondering at her persistence, and somewhat reluctant, Muriel roseto comply. As she was about to pass her, with a swift movement Daisycaught her hand and drew her down. 

"I want you--so--to be happy, dearest, " she whispered, a quick note ofpassion in her voice. "It's better for you--it's better for you--tobe together. I'm not going to monopolise you any longer. I will tryto come down to-morrow, if Jim will let me. It's hockey day, isn't it?You must go and play as usual, you and he. "

She was quivering with agitation as she pressed her lips to the girl'scheek. Muriel would have embraced her, but she pushed her softly away. "Go--go, dear, " she insisted. "I wish it. "

And Muriel went, seeing that she would not otherwise be pacified. 

She found Blake depressed indeed, but genuinely pleased to see her, and she walked in the garden with him in the soft spring twilight tillthe dinner hour. 

Just as they were about to go in, the postman appeared with foreignletters for them both, which proved to be from Sir Reginald and LadyBassett. 

The former had written briefly but very kindly to Grange, signifyinghis consent to his engagement to his ward, and congratulating him uponhaving won her. To Muriel he sent a fatherly message, telling her ofhis pleasure at hearing of her happiness, and adding that he hoped shewould return to them in the following autumn to enable him to give heraway. 

Grange put his arm round his young _fiancée_ as he read this passagealoud, but she only stood motionless within it, not yielding to histouch. It even seemed to him that she stiffened slightly. He looked ather questioningly and saw that she was very pale. 

"What is it?" he asked gently. "Will that be too soon for you?"

She met his eyes frankly, but with unmistakable distress. "I--I didn'tthink it would be quite so soon, Blake, " she faltered. "I don't wantto be married at present. Can't we go on as we are for a little? Shallyou mind?"

Blake's face wore a puzzled look, but it was wholly free fromresentment. He answered her immediately and reassuringly. 

"Of course not, dear. It shall be just when you like. Why should yoube hurried?"

She gave him a smile of relief and gratitude, and he stooped andkissed her forehead with a soothing tenderness that he might havebestowed upon a child. 

It was with some reluctance that she opened Lady Bassett's letterin his presence, but she felt that she owed him this small mark ofconfidence. 

There was a strong aroma of attar of roses as she drew it from theenvelope, and she glanced at Grange with an expression of disgust. 

"What is the matter?" he asked. "Nothing wrong, I hope?"

"It's only the scent, " she explained, concealing a faint sense ofirritation. 

He smiled. "Don't you like it? I thought all women did. "

"My dear Blake!" she said, and shuddered. 

The next minute she threw a sharp look over her shoulder, suddenlyassailed by an uncanny feeling that Nick was standing grimacing ather elbow. She saw his features so clearly for the moment with hisown peculiarly hideous grimace upon them that she scarcely persuadedherself that her fancy had tricked her. But there was nothing but thetwilight of the garden all around her, and Blake's huge bulk by herside, and she promptly dismissed the illusion, not without a sense ofshame. 

With a gesture of impatience she unfolded Lady Bassett's letter. Itcommenced "Dearest Muriel, " and proceeded at once in terms of flowingelegance to felicitate her upon her engagement to Blake Grange. 

"In according our consent, " wrote Lady Bassett, "Sir Reginald and Ihave not the smallest scruple or hesitation. Only, dearest, for BlakeGrange's sake as well as for your own, make quite sure _this time_that your mind is fully made up, and your choice final. "

When Muriel read this passage a deep note of resentment crept into hervoice, and she lifted a flushed face. 

"It may be very wicked, " she said deliberately, "but I hate LadyBassett. "

Grange looked astonished, even mildly shocked. But Muriel returned tothe letter before he could reply. 

It went on to express regret that the writer could not herselfreturn to England for the summer to assist her in the purchase of hertrousseau and to chaperon her back to India in the autumn; but hersister, Mrs. Langdale, who lived in London, would she was sure, bedelighted to undertake the part of adviser in the first case, and inthe second she would doubtless be able to find among her many friendswho would be travelling East for the winter, one who would take chargeof her. No reference was made to Daisy till the end of the letter, when the formal hope was expressed that Mrs. Musgrave's health hadbenefited by the change. 

"She dares to disapprove of Daisy for some reason, " Muriel said, closing the letter with the rapidity of exasperation. 

Grange did not ask why. He was engrossed in brushing a speck of mudfrom his sleeve, and she was not sure that he even heard her remark. 

"You--I suppose you are not going to bother about a trousseau yetthen?" he asked rather awkwardly. 

She shook her head with vehemence. "No, no, of course not. Why shouldI hurry? Besides, I am in mourning. "

"Exactly as you like, " said Grange gently. "My leave will be up inSeptember, as you know, but I am not bound to stay in the Army. I willsend in my papers if you wish it. "

Muriel looked at him in amazement. "Send in your papers! Why no, Blake! I wouldn't have you do it for the world. I never dreamed ofsuch a thing. "

He smiled good-humouredly. "Well, of course, I should be sorry togive up polo, but there are plenty of other things I could take to. Personally, I like a quiet existence. "

Was there just a shade of scorn in Muriel's glance as it fell awayfrom him? It would have been impossible for any bystander to say withcertainty, but there was without doubt a touch of constraint in hervoice as she made reply. 

"Yes. You are quite the most placid person I know. But please don'tthink of leaving the Army for my sake. I am a soldier's daughterremember. And--I like soldiers. "

Her lip quivered as she turned to enter the house. Her heart at thatmoment was mourning over a soldier's unknown grave. But Grange did notknow it, did not even see that she was moved. 

His eyes were raised to an upper window at which a dim figure stoodlooking out into the shadows. And he was thinking of other things. 

CHAPTER XXVI

THE ETERNAL FLAME

Daisy maintained her resolution on the following day, and though shedid not speak again of going downstairs, she insisted that Murielshould return to the hockey-field and resume her place in Olga's team. It was the last match of the season, and she would not hear of hermissing it. 

"You and Blake are both to go, " she said. "I won't have either of youstaying at home for me. "

But Blake, when Muriel conveyed this message to him, moodily shook hishead. "I'm not going. I don't want to. You must, of course. It will doyou good. But I couldn't play if I went. I've strained my wrist. "

"Oh, have you?" Muriel said, with concern. "What a nuisance! How didyou manage it?"

He reddened, and looked slightly ashamed. "I vaulted the gate into themeadow this morning. Idiotic thing to do. But I shall be all right. Never mind about me. I shall smoke in the garden. I may go for awalk. "

Thus pressed on all sides, though decidedly against her owninclination, Muriel went. The day was showery with brilliantintervals. Grange saw her off at the field-gate. 

"Plenty of mud, " he remarked. 

"Yes, I shall be a spectacle when I come back. Good-bye! Take care ofyourself. " Muriel's hand rested for an instant on his arm, and thenshe was gone--a slim, short-skirted figure walking swiftly over thegrass. 

He stood leaning on the gate watching her till a clump of treesintervened between them, then lazily he straightened himself and beganto stroll back up the garden. He was not smoking. His face wore aheavy, almost a sullen, look. He scarcely raised his eyes from theground as he walked. 

Nearing the house the sudden sound of a window being raised madehim look up, and in an instant, swift as a passing cloud-shadow, hismoodiness was gone. Daisy was leaning on her window-sill, looking downupon him. 

Though she had not spoken to him for weeks, she gave him no greeting. Her voice even sounded a trifle sharp. 

"What are you loafing there for?" she demanded. "Why didn't you gowith Muriel to the hockey?"

He hesitated for a single instant. Then--for he never lied toDaisy--quite honestly he made reply. "I didn't want to. "

Her pale face frowned down at him, though the eyes had a soft lightthat was like a mother's indulgence for her wayward child. 

"How absurd you are! How can you be so lazy? I won't have it, Blake. Do you hear?"

He moved forward a few steps till he was immediately below her, andthere stood with uplifted face. "What do you want me to do?"

"Do!" echoed Daisy. "Why, anything--anything rather than nothing. There's the garden-roller over there by the tool-shed. Go and get it, and roll the lawn. "

He went off obediently without another word, and presently the clatterof the roller testified to his submissive fulfilment of her command. He did not look up again. Simply, with his coat off and shirt-sleevesturned above his elbows, he tackled his arduous task, labouring up anddown in the soft spring rain, patient and tireless as an ox. 

He had accomplished about half his job when again Daisy's voice brokeimperiously in upon him. 

"Blake! Blake! Come in! You'll get wet to the skin. "

He stopped at once, straightening his great frame with a sigh ofrelief. Daisy was standing at the drawing-room window. 

He pulled on his coat and went to join her. 

She came to meet him with sharp reproach. "Why are you so foolish?I believe you would have gone on rolling if there had been anearthquake. You must be wet through and through. " She ran her littlethin hand over him. "Yes, I knew you were. You must go and change. "

But Grange's fingers closed with quiet intention upon her wrist. Hewas looking down at her with the faithful adoration of a dumb animal. 

"Not yet, " he said gently. "Let me see you while I can. "

She made a quick movement as if his grasp hurt her, and in an instantshe was free. 

"Yes, but let us be sensible, " she said. "Don't let us talk about hardthings. I'm very tired, you know, Blake. You must make it easy forme. "

There was a piteous note of appeal in her voice. She sat down withher back to the light. He could see that her hands were trembling, butbecause of her appeal he would not seem to see it. 

"Don't you think a change would be good for you?" he suggested. 

"I don't know, " she answered. "Jim says so. He wants me to go toBrethaven. It's only ten miles away, and he would motor over and lookafter me. But I don't think it much matters. I'm not particularly fondof the sea. And Muriel assures me she doesn't mind. "

"Isn't it at Brethaven that Nick Ratcliffe owns a place?" askedGrange. 

"Yes. Redlands is the name. I went there once with Will. It's abeautiful place on the cliff--quite thrown away on Nick, though, unless he marries, which he never will now. "

Grange looked uncomfortable. "It's not my fault, " he remarked bluntly. 

"No, I know, " said Daisy, with a faint echo of her old light laugh. "Nothing ever was, or could be, your fault, dear old Blake. You'rejust unlucky sometimes, aren't you? That's all. "

Blake frowned a little. "I play a straight game--generally, " he said. 

"Yes, dear, but you almost always drive into a bunker, " Daisyinsisted. "It's not your fault, as we said before. It's just yourmisfortune. "

She never flattered Blake. It was perhaps the secret of her charm forhim. To other women he was something of a paladin; to Daisy he was nomore than a man--a man moreover of many weaknesses, each one of whichshe knew, each one of which was in a fashion dear to her. 

"We will have some tea, shall we?" she said, as he sat silentlydigesting her criticism. "I must try and write to Will presently. Ihaven't written to him since--since--" She broke off short and beganagain. "I got Muriel to write for me once. But he keeps writing byevery mail. I wish he wouldn't. "

Grange got up and walked softly to the window. "When do you think ofgoing back?" he asked. 

"I don't know. " There was a keen note of irritation in the reply. Daisy leaned suddenly forward, her fingers locked together. "Youmight as well ask me when I think of dying, " she said, with abrupt andstartling bitterness. 

Grange remained stationary, not looking at her. "Is it as indefiniteas that?" he asked presently. 

"Yes, quite. " She spoke recklessly, even defiantly. "Where would bethe use of my going to a place I couldn't possibly live in for morethan four months in the year? Besides--besides--" But again, as ifchecked by some potent inner influence, she broke off short. Herwhite face quivered suddenly, and she turned it aside. Her hands wereconvulsively clenched upon each other. 

Her cousin did not move. He seemed to be unaware of her agitation. Simply with much patience he waited for her end of the sentence. 

It came at last in a voice half-strangled. She was making almostfrantic efforts to control herself. "Besides, I couldn't standit--yet. I am not strong enough. And he--he wouldn't understand, poorboy. I think--I honestly think--I am better away from him for thepresent"

Blake made no further inquiries. From Daisy's point of view, he seemedto be standing motionless, but in reality he was quite unconsciously, though very deliberately, pulling the tassel of the blind-cord toshreds. 

The clouds had passed, and the sun blazed down full upon him, throwinghis splendid outline into high relief. Every detail of his massiveframe was strongly revealed. There was about him a species of carelessmagnificence, wholly apart from arrogance, unfettered, superb. 

To Daisy, familiar as she was with every line of him, the suddenrevelation of the sunlight acted like a charm. She had been hiding hereyes for many days from all light, veiling them in the darkness of hergrief, and the splendour of the man fairly dazzled her. It rushedupon her, swift, overmastering as a tidal wave, and before it even thememory of her sorrow grew dim. 

Blake, turning at last, met her eyes fixed full upon him with that intheir expression which no man could ignore. She had not expected himto turn. The movement disconcerted her. With a sharp jerk She avertedher face, seeking to cover that momentary slip, to persuade himeven then, if it were possible, into the belief that he had not seenaright. 

But it was too late. That unguarded look of hers had betrayed her, rending asunder in an instant the veil with which for years she hadsuccessfully baffled him. 

In a second he was on his knees beside her, his arms about her, holding her with a close and passionate insistence. 

"Daisy!" he whispered huskily. And again, "Daisy!"

And Daisy turned with a sudden deep sob and hid her face upon hisbreast. 

CHAPTER XXVII

THE EAGLE CAGED

In spite of Olga's ecstatic welcome, Muriel took her place on thehockey-field that afternoon with a heavy heart. Her long attendanceupon Daisy had depressed her. But gradually, as the play proceeded, she began to forget herself and her troubles. The spring airexhilarated her, and when they returned to the field after a sharpshower her spirits had risen. She became even childishly gay in thecourse of a hotly-contested battle, and the sadness gradually diedout of her eyes. She had grown less shy, less restrained, than of old. Youth and health, and a dawning, unconscious beauty had sprung to lifeupon her face. She was no longer the frightened, bereft child of Simladays. She no longer hid a monstrous fear in her heart. She had put itall away from her wisely, resolutely, as a tale that is told. 

The wild wind had blown the hair all loose about her face by the timethe last goal was won. Hatless, flushed, and laughing, she drew backfrom the fray, Olga, elated by victory, clinging to her arm. It was amoment of keen triumph, for the fight had been hard, and she enjoyedit to the full as she stood there with her face to the sudden, scudding rain. The glow of exercise had braced every muscle. Everypulse was beating with warm, vigorous life. 

She laughed aloud in sheer exultation, a low, merry laugh, and turnedwith Olga to march in triumphant procession from the field. 

In that instant from a gate a few yards away that led into the roadthere sounded the short, imperious note of a motor-horn, repeated manytimes in a succession of sharp blasts. Every one stood to view theintruder with startled curiosity for perhaps five seconds. Then therecame a sudden squeal of rapture from Olga, and in a moment she hadtorn her arm free and was gone, darting like a swallow over the turf. 

Muriel stood looking after her, but she was as one turned to stone. She was no longer aware of the children grouped around her. She nolonger saw the fleeting sunshine, or felt the drift of rain in herface. Something immense and suffocating had closed about her heart. Her racing pulses had ceased to beat. 

A figure familiar to her--a man's figure, unimposing in height, unremarkable in build, but straight, straight as his ownsword-blade--had bounded from the car and scaled the intervening gatewith monkey-like agility. 

He met the child's wild rush with one arm extended; the other--Murielfrowned sharply, peering with eyes half closed, then uttered a queerchoked sound that had the semblance of a laugh--in place of the otherarm there was an empty sleeve. 

Through the rush of the wind she heard his voice. 

"Hullo, kiddie, hullo! Hope I don't intrude. I've come over on purposeto pay my respects. "

Olga's answer did not reach her. She was hanging round her hero'sneck, and her head was down upon Nick's shoulder. It seemed to Murielthat she was crying, but if so, she received scant sympathy from theobject of her solicitude. His cracked, gay laugh rang out across thefield. 

"What? Why, yesterday, to be sure. Spent the night in town. No, I knowI didn't. Never meant to. Wanted to steal a march on you all. Why not?I say, is that--Muriel?"

For the first time he seemed to perceive her, and instantly with adexterous movement he had disengaged himself from Olga's clinging armsand was briskly approaching her. Two of the doctor's boys sprang togreet him, but he waved them airily aside. 

"All right, you chaps, in a minute! Where's Dr. Jim? Go and tell himI'm here. "

And then in a couple of seconds more they were face to face. 

Muriel stared at him speechlessly. She felt cold from head to foot. She had known that he was coming. She had been steeling herself forweeks to meet him in an armour of conventional reserve. But all herefforts had come to this. Swift, swift as the wind over wheat, hiscoming swept across her new-born confidence. It wavered and bent itshead. 

"Does your Excellency deign to remember the least and humblest of herservants?" queried Nick, with a deep salaam. 

The laugh in his tone brought her sharply back to the demand ofcircumstance. Before the watching crowd of children, she forced herwhite lips to smile in answer, and in a moment she had recovered herself-possession. She remembered with a quick sense of relief that thisman's power over her belonged to the past alone--to the tale that wastold. 

The hand she held out to him was almost steady. "Yes, I remember you, Nick, " she said, with chilly courtesy. "I am sorry you have been ill. Are you better?"

He made a queer grimace at her words, and for the second that her handlay in his, she knew that he looked at her closely, piercingly. 

"Thanks--awfully, " he said. "As you may have noticed, there is alittle less of me than there used to be. I hope you think it's animprovement. "

She felt as if he had flung back her conventional sympathy in herface, and she stiffened instinctively. "I am sorry to see it, " shereturned icily. 

Nick laughed enigmatically. "I thought you would be. Well, Olga, mychild, what do you mean by growing up like this in my absence? Youused to be just the right size for a kid, and now you are taller thanI am. "

"I'm not, Nick, " the child declared with warmth. "And I never will be, there!"

She slid her arm again round his neck. Her eyes were full of tears. 

Nick turned swiftly and bestowed a kiss upon the face which, thoughthe face of a child, was so remarkably like his own. 

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" he said. 

"There's no need, " said Olga, hugging him closer. "They all knowCaptain Ratcliffe of Wara. Why haven't you got the V. C. , Nick, likeCaptain Grange?"

"Didn't qualify for it, " returned Nick. "You see, I only distinguishedmyself by running away. Hullo! It's raining. Just run and tell thechauffeur to drive round to the house. You can go with him. And takeyour friends too. It'll carry you all. I'm going the garden way withMuriel. "

Muriel realised the impossibility of frustrating this plan, though thelast thing in the world that she desired was to be alone with him. But the distance to the house was not great. As the children scamperedaway to the waiting motor-car she moved briskly to leave the field. 

Nick walked beside her with his free, elastic swagger. In a fewmoments he reached out and took her hockey-stick from her. 

"Jove!" he said. "It did me good to see you shoot that goal. "

"I had no idea you were watching, " she returned stiffly. 

He grinned. "No, I saw that. Fun, wasn't it? Like to know what I saidto myself?"

She made no answer, and his grin became a laugh. "I'm sure you would, so I'll tell you. I said, 'Prayer Number One is granted, ' and I tickedit off the list, and duly acknowledged the same. "

Muriel was plainly mystified. He was in the mood that most baffledher. "I don't know what you mean, " she said at last. 

Nick swung the hockey-stick idly. His yellow face, for all itswrinkles, looked peculiarly complacent. 

"Let me explain, " he said coolly; "I wanted to see you young again, and--my want has been satisfied, that's all. "

Muriel looked sharply away from him, the vivid colour rushing all overher face. She remembered--and the memory seemed to stab her--a daylong, long ago when she had lain in this man's arms in the extremityof helpless suffering, and had heard him praying above her head, brokenly, passionately, for something far different--something fromwhich she had come to shrink with a nameless, overmastering dread. 

She quickened her pace in the silence that followed. The rain wascoming down sharply. Reaching the door that led into the doctor'swalled garden, she stretched out her hand with impetuous haste to pushit open. 

Instantly, with disconcerting suddenness, Nick dropped thehockey-stick and swooped upon it like a bird of prey. 

"Who gave you that?" he demanded. 

He had spied a hoop of diamonds upon her third finger. She couldnot see his eyes under the flickering lids, but he held her wristforcibly, and it seemed to her that there was a note of savagery inhis voice. 

Her heart beat fast for a few seconds, so fast that she could not findher voice. Then, almost under her breath, "Blake gave it to me, " shesaid. "Blake Grange. "

"Yes?" said Nick. "Yes?"

Suddenly he looked straight at her, and his eyes were alight, fierce, glowing. But she felt a curious sense of scared relief, as if he werebehind bars, --an eagle caged, of which she need have no fear. 

"We are engaged to be married, " she said quietly. 

There fell a momentary silence, and a voice cried out in her soul thatshe had stabbed him through the bars. 

Then in a second Nick dropped her hands and stooped to pick up thehockey-stick. His face as he stood up again flashed back to its old, baffling gaiety. 

"What ho!" he said lightly. "Then I'm in time to dance at the wedding. Pray accept my heartiest congratulations!"

Muriel murmured her thanks with her face averted. She was no longerafraid merely, but strangely, inexplicably ashamed. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE LION'S SKIN

The news of Nick's return spread like wildfire through the doctor'shouse, and the whole establishment assembled to greet him. Jim himselfcame striding out into the rain to shake his hand and escort him in. 

His "Hullo, you scapegrace!" had in it little of sentiment, but therewas nothing wanting in his welcome in the opinion of the recipientthereof. 

Nick's rejoinder of "Hullo, you old buffer!" was equally free from anygloss of eloquence, but he hooked his hand in the doctor's arm as hemade it, and kept it there. 

Jim gave him one straight, keen look that took in every detail, but hemade no verbal comment of any sort. His heavy brows drew together foran instant, that was all. 

It was an exceedingly clamorous home-coming. The children, havingarrived in the motor, swarmed all about the returned hero, who wasmore than equal to the occasion, and obviously enjoyed his boisterousreception to the uttermost. There never had been any shyness aboutNick. 

Muriel, standing watching in the background with a queer, unaccountable pain at her heart, assured herself that the news ofher engagement had meant nothing to him whatever. He had managedto deceive her as usual. She realised it with burning cheeks, andardently wished that she had borne herself more proudly. Well, she wasnot wanted here. Even Olga, her faithful and loving admirer, had eyesonly for Nick just then. As for Dr. Jim, he had not even noticed her. 

Quietly she stole away from the merry, chattering group. The hall-doorstood open, and she saw that it was raining heavily; but she did nothesitate. With a haste that was urged from within by something thatwas passionate, she ran out hatless into the storm. 

The cracked, careless laugh she knew so well pursued her as she went, and once she fancied that some one called her by name. But she didnot slacken speed to listen. She only dashed on a little faster thanbefore. 

Drenched and breathless, she reached home at length, to be met uponthe threshold by Blake. In her exhaustion she almost fell into hisarms. 

"Hullo!" he said, steadying her. "You shouldn't run like that. I neverdreamed you would come back in this, or I would have come across withan umbrella to fetch you. "

She sank into a chair in the hall, speechless and gasping, her hairhanging about her neck in wildest disorder. 

Blake stood beside her. He was wearing his worried, moody look. 

"You shouldn't, " he said again. "It's horribly bad for you. "

"Ah, I'm better, " she gasped back. "I had to run--all the way--becauseof the rain. "

"But why didn't you wait?" said Blake. "What were they thinking of tolet you come in this down-pour?"

"They couldn't help it. " Muriel raised herself with a great sobbingsigh. "It was nobody's fault but my own. I wanted to get away. Oh, Blake, do you know--Nick is here?"

Blake started. "What? Already? Do you mean he is actually in theplace?"

She nodded. "He came up in a motor while we were playing. I suppose heis staying at Redlands, but I don't know. And--and--Blake, he haslost his left arm. It makes him look so queer. " She gave a sudden, uncontrollable shudder. The old dumb horror looked out of her eyes. "I thought I shouldn't mind, " she said, under her breath. "Perhaps--ifyou had been there--it would have been different. As it was--as itwas--" She broke off, rising impetuously to her feet, and layingtrembling hands upon his arms. "Oh, Blake, " she whispered, like ascared child. "I feel so helpless. But you promised--you promised--youwould never let me go. "

Yes, he had promised her that. He had sworn it, and, sick at heart, he remembered that in her eyes at least he was a man of honour. Ithad been in his mind to tell her the simple truth, just so far as hehimself was concerned, and thereafter to place himself at herdisposal to act exactly as she should desire. But suddenly this was animpossibility to him. He realised it with desperate self-loathing. She trusted him. She looked to him for protection. She leaned uponhis strength. She needed him. He could not--it almost seemed as if incommon chivalry he could not--reveal to her the contemptible weaknesswhich lay like a withering blight upon his whole nature. To ownhimself the slave of a married woman, and that woman her closestfriend, would be to throw her utterly upon her own resources at atime when she most needed the support and guidance of a helpinghand. Moreover, the episode was over; so at least both he and Daisyresolutely persuaded themselves. There had been a lapse--a vain andfutile lapse--into the long-cherished idyll of their romance. Itmust never recur. It never should recur. It must be covered overand forgotten as speedily as might be. They had come to their sensesagain. They were ready, not only to thrust away the evil that haddominated them, but to ignore it utterly as though it had never been. 

So, rapidly, the man reasoned with himself with the girl's handsclasping his arm in earnest entreaty, and her eyes of innocence raisedto his. 

His answer when it came was slow and soft and womanly, but, in herears at least, there was nothing wanting in it. She never dreamed thathe was reviling himself for a blackguard even as he uttered it. 

"My dear little girl, there is nothing whatever for you to be afraidof. You're a bit overstrung, aren't you? The man isn't living whocould take you from me. "

He patted her shoulder very kindly, soothing her with a patient, almost fatherly tenderness, and gradually her panic of fear passed. She leaned against him with a comforting sense of security. 

"I can't think how it is I'm so foolish, " she told him. "You are goodto me, Blake. I feel so safe when I am with you. "

His heart smote him, yet he bent and kissed her. "You're not quitestrong yet, dear, " he said. "It takes a long time to get over all thatyou had to bear last year. "

"Yes, " she agreed with a sigh. "And do you know I thought I wasso much stronger than I am? I actually thought that I shouldn'tmind--much--when he came. And yet I did mind--horribly. I--I--told himabout our engagement, Blake. "

"Yes, dear, " said Blake. 

"Yes, I told him. And he laughed and offered his congratulations. I don't think he cared, " said Muriel, again with that curious, inexplicable sensation of pain at her heart. 

"Why should he?" said Blake. 

She looked at him with momentary irresolution. "You know, Blake, Inever told you. But I was--I was--engaged to him for about a fortnightthat dreadful time at Simla. "

To her relief she marked no change in Blake's courteously attentiveface. 

"You need not have told me that, dear, " he said quietly. 

"No, I know, " she answered, pressing his arm. "It wouldn't make anydifference to you. You are too great. And it was always a little bitagainst my will. But the breaking with him was terrible--terrible. Hewas so angry. I almost thought he would have killed me. "

"My dear, " Blake said, "you shouldn't dwell on these things. They arebetter forgotten. "

"I know, I know, " she answered. "But they are just the very hardest ofall things to forget. You must help me, Blake. Will you?"

"I will help you, " he answered steadily. 

And the resolution with which he spoke was an unspeakable comfort toher. Once more there darted across her mind the wonder at her father'schoice for her. How was it--how was it--that he had passed over thisman and chosen Nick?

Blake's own explanation of the mystery seemed to her suddenly weak andinadequate. She simply could not bring herself to believe that in asupreme moment he could be found wanting. It was unthinkable that thegiant frame and mighty sinews could belong to a personality that waslacking in a corresponding greatness. 

So she clung to her illusion, finding comfort therein, wholly blind tothose failings in her protector which to the woman who had loved himfrom her earliest girlhood were as obvious and well-nigh as preciousas his virtues. 

CHAPTER XXIX

OLD FRIENDS MEET

"I must be getting back, " said Nick. 

He was sprawling at ease on the sofa in Jim's study, blinkingcomfortably at the ceiling, as he made this remark. 

Jim himself had just entered the room. He drew up a chair to Nick'sside. 

"You will be doing nothing of the sort to-night, " he returned, witha certain grimness. "The motor has gone back to Redlands for yourthings. I saw to that an hour ago. "

"The deuce you did!" said Nick. He turned slightly to send a shiftingglance over his brother. "That was very officious of you, Jimmy, " heremarked. 

"Very likely, " conceded the doctor. "I have to be officiousoccasionally. And if you think that I mean to let you out of my sightin your present state of health, you make a big mistake. No, liestill, I tell you! You're like a monkey on wires. Lie still! Do youhear me, Nick?"

Nick's feet were already on the ground, but he did not rise. He satmotionless, as if weighing some matter in his mind. 

"I can't stay with you, Jimmy, " he said at last. "I'll spend to-nightof course with all the pleasure in the world. But I'm going back toRedlands to-morrow. I have a fancy for sleeping in my own crib justnow. Come over and see me as often as you feel inclined, the oftenerthe better. And if you care to bring your science to bear upon allthat is left of this infernally troublesome member of mine, I shall becharmed to let you. You may vivisect me to your heart's content. Butdon't ask me to be an in-patient, for it can't be done. There arereasons. "

Jim frowned at him. "Do you know what will happen if you don't takecare of yourself?" he said brusquely. "You'll die. "

Nick burst into a laugh, and lay back on the cushions. "I was drivenout of India by that threat, " he said. "It's getting a bit stale. You needn't be afraid. I'm not going to die at present. I'll takereasonable precautions to prevent it. But I won't stay here, that'sflat. I tell you, man, I can't. "

He glanced again at Jim, and, finding the latter closely watching him, abruptly shut his eyes. 

"I'm going to open Redlands, " he said, "and I will have Olga to comeand keep house for me. It'll be good practice for her. I'll take herback with me to-morrow, if you have no objection. "

"Fine mischief you'll get up to, the pair of you, " grumbled Jim. 

"Very likely, " said Nick cheerily. "But we shan't come to any harm, either of us. To begin with, I shall make her wait on me, hand andfoot. She'll like that, and so shall I. "

"Yes, you'll spoil her thoroughly. " said Jim. "And I shall have thepleasure of breaking her in afterwards. "

Nick laughed again. "What an old tyrant you are! But you needn't beafraid of that. I'll make her do as she's told. I'm particularly goodat that. Ask Muriel Roscoe. "

Jim's frown deepened. "You know of that girl's engagement to Grange, Isuppose?"

Nick did not trouble to open his eyes. "Oh, rather! She took care thatI should. I gave her my blessing. "

"Well, I don't like it, " said Jim plainly. 

"What's the matter with him?" questioned Nick. 

"Nothing that I know of. But she isn't in love with him. "

Nick's eyelids parted a little, showing a glint between. "You funnyold ass!" he murmured affectionately. 

Jim leaned forward and looked at him hard. 

"Quite so, " said Nick in answer, closing his eyes again. "But youdon't by any chance imagine she's in love with me, do you? You knowhow a woman looks at a worm she has chopped in half by mistake? That'show Muriel Roscoe looked at me to-day when she expressed her regretfor my mishap. "

"She wouldn't do that for nothing, " observed Jim, with a hint ofsternness. 

"She wouldn't, " Nick conceded placidly. 

"Then why the devil did you ever give her reason?" Jim spoke withunusual warmth. Muriel was a favourite of his. 

But he obtained scant satisfaction notwithstanding. 

"Ask the devil, " said Nick flippantly. "I never was good atdefinitions. "

It was a tacit refusal to discuss the matter, and as such Jim acceptedit. 

He turned from the subject with a grunt of discontent. "Well, if I amto undertake your case, you had better let me look at you. But we'llhave a clean understanding first, mind, that you obey my orders. Iwon't be responsible otherwise. "

Nick opened his eyes with a chuckle. "I'll do anything under the sunto please you, Jimmy, " he said generously. "When did you ever find mehard to manage?"

"You've given me plenty of trouble at one time and another, " Jim saidbluntly. 

"And shall again before I die, " laughed Nick, as he submitted to hisbrother's professional handling. "There's plenty of kick left in me. By the way, tell me what you think about Daisy. I must call on herto-morrow before I leave. "

This intention, however, was not fulfilled, for Daisy herself cameearly to the doctor's house to visit him. Far from well though shewas, she made the effort as a matter of course. Nick was too near afriend to neglect. Blake did not accompany her. He was riding withMuriel. 

She found Nick stretched out in luxurious idleness on a couch inthe sunshine. He made a movement to spring to meet her, but checkedhimself with a laugh. 

"This is awfully good of you, Daisy. I was coming to see you later, but I'm nailed to this confounded sofa for the next two hours, havingsolemnly sworn to Jim that nothing short of battle, murder or suddendeath should induce me to move. I'm afraid I can't reasonably describeyour coming as any of these, so I must remain a fixture. It's Jimmy'srest cure. "

He reached out his hand to Daisy, who took it in both her own. "Mypoor dear Nick!" she said, and stooping impulsively kissed him on theforehead. 

"Bless you!" said Nick. "I'm ten times better for that. Sit down here, won't you? Pull up close. I've got a lot to say. "

Of sympathy for her recent bereavement, however, he said no wordwhatever. He only held her hand. 

"There's poor old Will, " he said: "I spent the night with him on myway down. He's beastly homesick--sent all sorts of messages to you. You'll be going out in the winter?"

"It depends, " said Daisy. 

"He's breaking his heart for you, like a silly ass, " said Nick. "Howlong has Muriel been engaged to Grange?"

Daisy started at the sudden question. 

"It's all right, " Nick assured her. "I'm not a bit savage. It'll be alittle experience for her. When did it begin?"

Daisy hesitated. "Some weeks ago now. "

Nick nodded. "Exactly. As soon as she heard I was coming. Funny ofher. And what of Grange? Is he smitten?"

Daisy flushed painfully, and tried to laugh. "Don't be socold-blooded, Nick. Of course he--he's fond of her. "

"Oh, he--he's fond of her, is he?" said Nick. He looked at hersuddenly, and laughed with clenched teeth. "I'm infernally rude, Iknow. But why put it in that way? Should you say I was 'fond' of her?"

Daisy met his darting, elusive glance with a distinct effort. "Ishouldn't say you were fond of any one, Nick. The term doesn'tapply where you are concerned. There never were two men more totallydifferent than you and Blake. But he isn't despicable for all that. He's a child compared to you, but he's a good child. He would never dowrong unless some one tempted him. "

"That's so with a good many of us, " remarked Nick, sneering faintly. "Let us hope that when the account comes to be totted up, allowancewill be made. "

Daisy's hand upon his banished the sneer. "Be fair, Nick, " she urged. "We are not all made with wills of iron. I know you are bitter becauseyou think he isn't good enough for her. But would you think any mangood enough? Don't think I wanted this. I was on your side. But I--Iwas busy at the time with--other things. And I didn't see it coming. "

Nick's face softened. He said nothing. 

She bent towards him. "I would have given anything to have stopped itwhen I knew. But it was too late. Will you forgive me, Nick?"

He patted her hand lightly. "Of course, of course. Don't fret on myaccount. "

"But I do, " she whispered vehemently. "I do. I know--how horribly--ithurts. "

Nick's fingers closed suddenly upon hers. His eyes went beyond her. 

"Mrs. Musgrave, " he said, "I am gifted with a superhuman intelligence, remember. I know some cards by their backs. "

Daisy withdrew her hand swiftly. His tone had been one of warning. She threw him a look of sharp uneasiness. She did not ask him what hemeant. 

"Tell me some more about Will, " she said. "I was thinking of writingto him to-day. "

And Nick forthwith plunged into a graphic account of the man who wasslaving night and day in the burning Plains of the East for the womanof his heart. 

CHAPTER XXX

AN OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP

It was with unspeakable relief that Muriel learned of Nick'sdeparture. That he had elected to take Olga with him surprised herconsiderably and caused her some regret. Grange had discovered someurgent business that demanded his presence in town, and she missed thechild in consequence more than she would otherwise have done. 

Daisy was growing stronger, and was beginning to contemplate a change, moved at last by Jim Ratcliffe's persistent urging. There was acottage at Brethaven which, he declared, would suit her exactly. Muriel raised no objection to the plan. She knew it would be forDaisy's benefit, but her heart sank whenever she thought of it. Shewas glad when early in June Blake came back to them for a few daysbefore starting on a round of visits. 

He approved of the Brethaven plan warmly, and he and Muriel rode overone morning to the little seaside village to make arrangements. Murielsaid no more to him upon the subject of Nick. On this one pointshe had come to know that it was vain to look for sympathy. He hadpromised to help her indeed, but he simply did not understandher nervous shrinking from the man. Moreover, Nick had made it soabundantly evident that he had no intention of thrusting himself uponher that there could be no ground for fear on that score. Besides, wasnot her engagement her safeguard?

As for Blake, her silence upon the matter made him hope that she wasgetting over her almost childish panic. With all the goodwill in theworld, he could not see that his presence as watch-dog was required. 

Yet, as they turned from the cottage on the shore with their errandaccomplished, he did say after some hesitation, "Of course, if forany reason you should want me when I am away, you must let me know. Iwould come at once. "

She thanked him with a heightened colour, and he had a feeling thathis allusion had been unwelcome. They rode up from the beach insilence. 

Turning a sharp corner towards the village where they proposed tolunch, they came suddenly upon a motor stationary by the roadside. A whoop of cheery recognition greeted them before either of themrealised that it was occupied, and they discovered Nick seated on thestep, working with his one hand at the foot-brake. Olga was with him, endeavouring to assist. 

Nick's face grinned welcome impartially to the newcomers. "Hullo! Thisis luck. Delighted to see you. Grange, my boy, here's a little jobexactly suited to your Herculean strength. Climb down like a goodfellow, and lend a hand. "

Grange glanced at Muriel, and with a slight shrug handed her hisbridle. "I'm not much good at this sort of thing, " he remarked, as hedismounted. 

"Never thought you were for a moment, " responded Nick. "But I supposeyou can do as you're told at a pinch. This filthy thing has gotjammed. It's too tough a job for a single-handed pigmy like me. " Heglanced quizzically up at Muriel with the last remark, but she quicklyaverted her eyes, bending to speak to Olga at the same instant. 

Olga was living in the seventh heaven just then, and her radiant faceproclaimed it. "I'm learning to drive, " she told Muriel. "It's thegreatest fun. You would just love it. I know you would. " She stoodfondling the horses and chattering while the two men wrestled with themotor's internal arrangements, and Muriel longed desperately to giveher animal the rein and flee away from the mocking sprite that gibedat her from Nick's eyes. Whence came it, this feeling of insecurity, this perpetual sense of fighting against the inevitable? She hadfancied that Blake's presence would be her safeguard, but now shebitterly realised that it made no difference to her. He stood as itwere outside the ropes, and was powerless to intervene. 

Suddenly she saw them stand up. The business was done. They stood fora second side by side--Blake gigantic, well-proportioned, splendidlystrong; Nick, meagre, maimed, almost shrunken, it seemed. But in thatsecond she knew with unerring conviction that the greater fighter ofthe two was the man against whom she had pitted her quivering woman'sstrength. She knew at a single glance that for all his bodily weaknessNick possessed the power to dominate even so mighty a giant as Blake. What she had said to herself many a time before, she said again. Hewas abnormal, superhuman even; more--where he chose to exert himself, he was irresistible. 

The realisation went through her, sharp and piercing, horriblydistinct. She had sought shelter like a frightened rabbit in thedensest cover she could find, but, crouching low, she heard the rushof the remorseless wings above her. She knew that at any moment hecould rend her refuge to pieces and hold her at his mercy. 

Abruptly he left Blake and came to her side. "I want you and Grange tocome to Redlands for luncheon, " he said. "Olga is hostess there. Don'trefuse. "

"Oh, do come!" urged Olga, dancing eagerly upon one leg. "You've neverbeen to Redlands, have you? It's such a lovely place. Say you'll come, Muriel. "

Muriel scarcely heard her. She was looking down into Nick's face, seeking, seeking for the hundredth time, to read that baffling mask. 

"Don't refuse, " he said again. "You'll get nothing but underdone chopsat the inn here, and I can't imagine that to be a weakness of yours. "

She gave up her fruitless search. "I will come, " she said. 

"It's exactly as you like, you know, Muriel, " Grange put in awkwardly. 

She understood the precise meaning of Nick's laugh. She even for amoment wanted to laugh herself. "Thank you. I should like to, " shesaid. 

Nick nodded and turned aside. "Olga, stop capering, " he ordered, "anddrive me home. "

Olga obeyed him promptly, with the gaiety of a squirrel. As Nickseated himself by her side, Muriel saw her turn impulsively and rubher cheek against his shoulder. It gave her a queer little tinglingshock to see the child's perfect confidence in him. But then--butthen--Olga had never looked on horror, had never seen the devil leapout in naked fury upon her hero's face. 

They waited to let the car go first, Olga proudly grasping the wheel;then, trotting briskly, followed in its wake. 

Muriel had an uneasy feeling that Blake wanted to apologise, and shedetermined that he should not have the opportunity. Each time thathe gave any sign of wishing to draw nearer to her, she touched herhorse's flank. Something in the nature of a revelation had come toher during that brief halt by the roadside. For the first time shehad caught a glimpse, plain and unvarnished, of the actual man thatinhabited the giant's frame, and it had given her an odd, disturbingsuspicion that the strength upon which she leaned was in simple factscarcely equal to her own. 

The way to Redlands lay through leafy woodlands through which hereand there the summer sea gleamed blue. Turning in at the open gates, Muriel uttered an exclamation of delight. She seemed to have suddenlyentered fairyland. The house, long, low, rambling, roofed with thatch, stood at the end of a winding drive that was bordered on both sidesby a blaze of rhododendron flowers. Down below her on the left was aminiature glen from which arose the tinkle of running water. On herright the trees grew thickly, completely shutting out the road. 

"Oh, Blake!" she exclaimed. "What a perfect paradise!"

"Like it?" said Nick; and with a start she saw him coolly step outfrom a shadowy path behind them and close the great iron gate. 

Impulsively she pulled up and slipped to the ground. "Take my horse, Blake, " she said. "I must run down to that stream. "

He obeyed her, not very willingly, and Nick with a chuckle turned andplunged after her down the narrow path. "Go straight ahead!" he calledback. "Olga is waiting for you at the house. "

He came up with Muriel on the edge of the fairy stream. Her face wasflushed and her eyes nervous, but she met him bravely. She had knownin her heart that he would follow. As he stopped beside her, sheturned with a little desperate laugh and held out her hand. 

"Is it peace?" she said rather breathlessly. 

She felt his fingers, tense as wire, close about her own. "Seems likeit, " he said. "What are you afraid of? Me?"

She could not meet his look. But the necessity for some species ofunderstanding pressed upon her. She wanted unspeakably to conciliatehim. 

"I want to be friends with you, Nick, " she said, "if you will let me. "

"What for?" said Nick sharply. 

She was silent. She could not tell him that her sure defence hadcrumbled at a touch. Somehow she was convinced that he knew italready. 

"You never wanted such a thing before, " he said. "You certainlyweren't hankering after it the last time we met. "

Her cheeks burned at the memory. Again she felt ashamed. With a greateffort she forced herself to speak with a certain frankness. 

"I am afraid, " she said--"I have thought since--that I was ratherheartless that day. The fact was, I was taken by surprise. But I amsorry now, Nick. I am very sorry. "

Her tone was unconsciously piteous. Surely he must see that if theywere to meet often, as inevitably they must, some sort of agreementbetween them was imperative. She must feel stable ground beneath herfeet. Their intercourse could not be one perpetual passage of arms. Flesh and blood could never endure it. 

But Nick did not apparently view the matter in the same light. "Praydon't be sorry, " he airily begged her. "I quite understood. I nevertake offence where none is intended, and not always where it is. Sodismiss the matter from your mind with all speed. There is not thesmallest occasion for regret. "

He meant to elude her, she saw, and she turned from him withoutanother word. There was to be no understanding then, no friendlyfeeling, no peace of mind. She had trusted to his generosity, and itwas quite clear that he had no intention of being generous. 

As they walked by a mossy pathway towards the house, they talked uponindifferent things. But the girl's heart was very bitter withinher. She would have given almost anything to have flung back hishospitality in his grinning, triumphant face, and have departed withher outraged pride to the farthest corner of the earth. 

CHAPTER XXXI

THE EAGLE HOVERS

Luncheon in the low, old-fashioned dining-room at Redlands with itswindows facing the open sea, with Olga beaming at the head of thetable, would have been a peaceful and pleasant meal, had Muriel'sstate of mind allowed her to enjoy it. But Nick's treatment of heroverture had completely banished all enjoyment for her. She forcedherself to eat and to appear unconcerned, but she was quiveringinwardly with a burning sense of resentment. She was firmly determinedthat she would never be alone with him again. He had managed by thosefew scoffing words of his to arouse in her all the bitterness of whichshe was capable. If she had feared him before, she hated him now withthe whole force of her nature. 

He seemed to be blissfully unconscious of her hostility and played thepart of host with complete ease of manner. Long before the meal wasover, Grange had put aside his sullenness, and they were conversingtogether as comrades. 

Nick had plenty to say. He spoke quite openly of his illness, anddeclared himself to have completely recovered from it. "Even Jim hasceased his gruesome threats, " he said cheerily. "There will be no morelopping of branches this season. Just as well, for I chance to havedeveloped an affection for what is left. "

"You're going back to the Regiment, I suppose?" Blake questioned. 

"No, he isn't, " thrust in Olga, and was instantly frowned upon byNick. 

"Speak when you're spoken to, little girl! That's a question you arenot qualified to answer. I'm on half-pay at present, and I haven'tmade up my mind. "

"I should quit in your place, " Grange remarked, with his eyes on thedazzling sea. 

"No doubt you would, " Nick responded dryly. "And what should youadvise, Muriel?"

The question was unexpected, but she had herself in hand, and answeredit instantly. "I certainly shouldn't advise you to quit. "

He raised his eyebrows. "Might one ask why?"

She was quite ready for him, inspired by an overmastering longingto hurt him if that were possible. "Because if you gave up yourprofession, you would be nothing but a vacuum. If the chance todestroy life were put out of your reach, you would simply cease toexist. "

She spoke rapidly, her voice pitched very low. She was trembling allover, and her hands were clenched under the table to hide it. 

The laugh with which Nick received her words jarred intolerably uponher. She heard nothing in it but deliberate cruelty. 

"Great Lucifer!" he said. "You have got me under the microscope witha vengeance. But you can't see through me, you know. I have a reverseside. Hadn't you better turn me over and look at that? There may besorcery and witchcraft there as well. "

There might be. She could well have imagined it. But these were lesserthings in which she had no concern. She turned his thrust aside withdisdain. 

"I am not sufficiently interested, " she said. "The little I know isenough. "

"Well hit!" chuckled Nick. "I retire from the fray, discomfited. Olga_mia_, I wish you would find the cigars. You know where they are. "

Olga sprang to do his bidding. Having handed the box to Grange shecame to Nick and stood beside him while she cut and lighted a cigarfor him. 

He put his arm round her for a moment, and she stooped a flushed faceand kissed the top of his head. 

"Run along, " said Nick. "Take Muriel into the garden. She hasn't seenit all. "

Muriel rose. "We mustn't be late in starting back, " she remarked toBlake. 

But Olga lingered to whisper vehemently in Nick's ear. 

He laughed and shook his head. "Go, child, go! You don't know anythingabout it. And Muriel is waiting. You should never keep a guestwaiting. "

Olga went reluctantly. They passed out into the clear June sunshinetogether and down towards the shady shrubberies beyond the lawns. 

"Can Nick play tennis?" Muriel asked, as they crossed a marked-outcourt. 

"Yes, he can do anything, " the child said proudly. "He was onhorseback this morning, and he managed splendidly. We generallyplay tennis in the evening. He almost always wins. His services areterrific. I can't think how he does it. He calls it juggling. I try tomanage with only one hand sometimes--just to keep him company--but Ialways make a mess of things. There's no one in the world as clever asNick. "

Muriel felt inclined to agree with her, though in her opinion thisdistinguishing quality was not an altogether admirable one. Sheinfinitely preferred people with fewer brains. She would not, however, say this to Olga, and they paced on together under the trees insilence. Suddenly a warm hand slid within her arm, and Olga's greyeyes, very loving and wistful, looked up into hers. 

"Muriel darling, " she whispered softly, "don't you--don't you--likeNick after all?"

The colour rushed over Muriel's face in a vivid flood. 

"Like him! Like him!" she stammered. "Why do you ask?"

"Because, dear--don't be vexed, I love you frightfully--you did hurthim so at lunch, " explained Olga, pressing very close to her. 

"Hurt him! Hurt him!" Again Muriel repeated her words, then, recovering sharply, broke into a sudden laugh. "My dear child, Icouldn't possibly do such a thing if I tried. "

"But you did, you did!" persisted Olga, a faint note of indignation inher voice. "You don't know Nick. He feels--tremendously. Of courseyou might not see it, for it doesn't often show. But I know--I alwaysknow--when he is hurt, by the way he laughs. And he was hurt to-day. "

She stuck firmly to her point, notwithstanding Muriel's equallypersistent attitude of incredulity, till even Muriel was conscious atlast in her inner soul of a faint wonder, a dim and wholly negligiblesense of regret. Not that she would under any circumstances haverecalled that thrust of hers. She felt it had been dealt in fairfight; but even in fair fight there come sometimes moments of regret, when one feels that the enemy's hand has been intentionally slack. Sheknew well that, had he chosen, Nick might have thrust back, instantlyand disconcertingly, as his manner was. But he had refrained, merelycovering up his wound--if wound there had been--with the laugh thathad so wrung Olga's loving heart. His ways were strange. She wouldnever understand him. But she would like to have known how deep thatthrust had gone. 

Could she have overheard the conversation between Nick and hisremaining guest that followed her departure, she might have receivedenlightenment on this point, but Nick took very good care to ensurethat that conversation should be overheard by none. 

As soon as Grange had finished his coffee, he proposed a move to thelibrary, and led the way thither, leaving his own drink untouchedbehind him. 

The library was a large and comfortable apartment completely shutaway from the rest of the house, and singularly ill-adapted foreavesdroppers. The windows looked upon a wide stretch of lawn uponwhich even a bird could scarcely have lingered unnoticed. The lightthat filtered in through green sun-blinds was cool and restful. Anuntidy writing-table and a sofa strewn with cushions in disorderlyattitudes testified to the fact that Nick had appropriated this roomfor his own particular den. There was also a sun-bonnet tossed upon achair which seemed to indicate that Olga at least did not regard hisprivacy as inviolable. The ancient brown volumes stacked upon shelvesthat ranged almost from floor to ceiling were comfortably undisturbed. It was plainly a sanctum in which ease and not learning ruled supreme. 

Nick established his visitor in an easy-chair and hunted for anash-tray. Grange watched him uncomfortably. 

"I'm awfully sorry about your arm, Ratcliffe, " he said at length. "Afilthy bit of bad luck that. "

"Damnable, " said Nick. 

"I've been meaning to look you up for a long time, " Grange proceeded, "but somehow it hasn't come off. "

Nick laughed rather dryly. He was perfectly well aware that Grange hadbeen steadily avoiding him ever since his return. "Very good of you, "he said, subsiding upon the sofa and pulling the cushions about him. "I've been saving up my congratulations for you all these weeks. Imight have written, of course, but I had a notion that the spoken wordwould be more forcible. "

Grange stirred uneasily, neither understanding nor greatly relishingNick's tone. He wished vehemently that he would leave the subjectalone. 

Nick, however, had no such intention. A faint fiendish smile wastwitching the corners of his lips. He did not even glance in Blake'sdirection. There was no need. 

"Well, I wish you joy, " he said lightly. 

"Thank you, " returned Grange, without elation and with very littlegratitude. In some occult fashion, Nick was making it horribly awkwardfor him. He longed to change the subject, but could find nothing tosay--possibly because Nick quite obviously had not yet done with it. 

"Going to get married before you sail?" he asked abruptly. 

"I don't think so. " Very reluctantly Grange made reply. 

"Why not?" said Nick. 

"Muriel doesn't want to be married till she is out of mourning, "Grange explained. 

"Why doesn't she go out of mourning then?"

Grange didn't know, hadn't even thought of it. 

"Perhaps she will elect to wear mourning all her life, " suggestedNick. "Have you thought of that?"

There was a distinct gibe in this, and Grange at once retreated to aless exposed position. "I am quite willing to wait for her, " he said. "And she knows it. "

"You're deuced easily pleased then, " rejoined Nick. "And let me tellyou--for I'm sure you don't know--there's not a single woman under thesun who appreciates that sort of patience. "

Grange ignored the information with a decidedly sullen air. He didnot regard Nick as particularly well qualified to give him advice uponsuch a subject. 

After a moment Nick saw his attitude, and laughed aloud. "Yes, say it, man! It's quite true in a sense, and I shouldn't contradict you if itweren't. But has it never occurred to you that I was under a terrificdisadvantage from the very beginning? Do you remember that I undertookthe job that you shirked? Or do you possibly present the matter toyourself--and others--in some more attractive form?"

He turned upon his elbow with the question and regarded Grange with anodd expectancy. But Grange smoked in silence, not raising his eyes. 

Suddenly Nick spoke in a different tone, a tone that was tense withoutvibrating. "It doesn't matter how you put it. The truth remains. You didn't love her then. If you had loved her, you must have beenready--as I was ready--to make the final sacrifice. But you were notready. You hung back. You let me take the place which only a man whocared enough to protect her to the uttermost could have taken. Youlet me do this thing, and I did it. I brought her through untouched. Ikept her--night and day I kept her--from harm of any sort. And she hasbeen my first care ever since. You won't believe this, I daresay, butit's true. And--mark this well--I will only let her go to the man whowill make her happy. Once I meant to be that man. You don't suppose, do you, that I brought her safe through hell just for the pleasure ofseeing her marry another fellow? But it's all the same now what I didit for. I've been knocked out of the running. " His eyelids suddenlyquivered as if at a blow. "It doesn't matter to you how. It wasn'tbecause she fancied any one else. She hadn't begun to think of youin those days. I let her go, never mind why. I let her go, but she isstill in my keeping, and will be till she is the actual property ofanother man--yes, and after that too. I saved her, remember. I won theright of guardianship over her. So be careful what you do. Marry herif you love her. But if you don't, leave her alone. She shall be noman's second best. That I swear. "

He ceased abruptly. His yellow face was full of passion. His hand wasclenched upon the sofa-cushion. The whole body of the man seemed tothrill and quiver with electric force. 

And then in a moment it all passed. As at the touching of a spring hismuscles relaxed. The naked passion was veiled again--the old mask ofbanter replaced. 

He stretched out his hand to the man who had sat in silence andlistened to that one fierce outburst of a force which till then hadcontained itself. 

"I speak as a fool, " he said lightly. "Nothing new for me, you'll say. But just for my satisfaction--because she hates me so--put your handin mine and swear you will seek her happiness before everything elsein the world. I shall never trouble you again after this fashion. Ihave spoken. "

Blake sat for several seconds without speaking. Then, as if impelledthereto, he leaned slowly forward and laid his hand in Nick's. Heseemed to have something to say, but it did not come. 

Nick waited. 

"I swear, " Blake said at length. 

His voice was low, and he did not attempt to look Nick in the face, but he obviously meant what he said. 

And Nick seemed to be satisfied. In less than five seconds, he hadtossed the matter carelessly aside as one having no further concern init. But the memory of that interview was as a searing flame to Blake'ssoul for long after. 

For he knew that the man from whom Muriel had sought his protectionwas more worthy of her than he, and his heart cried bitter shame uponhim for that knowledge. 

It was with considerable difficulty that he responded to Nick's airynothings during the half-hour that followed, and the unusual alacritywith which he seized upon his host's suggestion that he might careto see the garden, testified to his relief at being released from theobligation of doing so. 

They went out together on to the wide lawn and sauntered down to asummer-house on the edge of the cliff, overlooking the whole mightyexpanse of sea. It lay dreaming in the sunlight, with hardly a rippleupon the long white beach below. And here they came upon Muriel andOlga, sitting side by side on the grass. 

Olga had just finished pulling a daisy to pieces. She tossed it awayat Nick's approach, and sprang to meet him. 

"It's very disappointing, " she declared. "It's the fourth time I'vedone it, and it always comes the same. I've been making the daisiestell Muriel's fortune, and it always comes to 'He would if he could, but he can't. ' You try this time, Nick. "

"All right. You hold the daisy, " said Nick. 

Muriel looked up with a slightly heightened colour. "I think we oughtto be going, " she remarked. 

"We have just ordered the horses for four o'clock, " Grange saidapologetically. 

She glanced at the watch on her wrist--half-past three. Nick, seatedcross-legged on the grass in front of her, had already, with Olga'sable assistance, begun his game. 

Swiftly the tiny petals fell from his fingers. He was very intent, and in spite of herself Muriel became intent too, held by a mostunaccountable fascination. So handicapped was he that he could noteven pull a flower to pieces without assistance. And yet--

Suddenly he looked across at her. "He loves her!" he announced. 

"Oh, Nick!" exclaimed Olga reproachfully. "You cheated! You pulled offtwo!"

"He usually does cheat, " Muriel observed, plucking a flower of grassand regarding it with absorption. 

"So do you, " retorted Nick unexpectedly. 

"I!" She looked at him in amazement. "What do you mean?"

"I sha'n't tell you, " he returned, "because you know, or you wouldknow if you took the trouble to find out. Grange, I wish you wouldgive me a light. Hullo, Olga, there's a hawk! See him? Straight abovethat cedar!"

All turned to look at the dark shape of the bird hovering in mid-air. Seconds passed. Suddenly there was a flashing, downward swoop, and thesky was empty. 

Olga exclaimed, and Nick sent up a wild whoop of applause. Muriel gavea great start and glanced at him. For a single instant his look methers; then with a sick shudder, she turned aside. 

"You are cold, " said Grange. 

Yes, she was cold. It was as if an icy hand had closed upon her heart. As from an immense distance, she heard Olga's voice of protest. 

"Oh, Nick, how can you cheer?"

And his careless reply. "My good child, don't grudge the poor creaturehis dinner. Even a bird of prey must live. Come along! We'll go in totea. Muriel is cold. "

They went in, and again his easy hospitality overcame alldifficulties. 

When at length the visitors rode away, they left him grinning a cheeryfarewell from his doorstep. He seemed to be in the highest spirits. 

They were more than half-way home when Muriel turned impetuously toher companion, breaking a long silence. 

"Blake, " she said, "I am ready to marry you as soon as you like. "

PART IV

CHAPTER XXXII

THE FACE IN THE STORM

Muriel saw very little of her _fiancé_ during the weeks that followedtheir visit to Redlands. There was not indeed room for him at thecottage at Brethaven which she and Daisy had taken for the summermonths. He had, moreover, several visits to pay, and his leave wouldbe up in September. 

Muriel herself, having once made her decision, had plenty to occupyher. They had agreed to adhere to Sir Reginald Bassett's plan forthem, and to be married in India some time before Christmas. But shedid not want to go to Lady Bassett's sister before she left England, and she was glad when Daisy declared that she herself would go to townwith her in the autumn. 

A change had come over Daisy of late, a change which Muriel keenlyfelt, but which she was powerless to define. It seemed to date fromthe arrival of Nick though she did not definitely connect it with him. There was nothing palpable in it, nothing even remotely suggestiveof a breach between them; only, subconsciously as it were, Muriel hadbecome aware that their silence, which till then had been the silenceof sympathy, had subtly changed till it had become the silence of adeep though unacknowledged reserve. It was wholly intangible, thischange. No outsider would have guessed of its existence. But to theyounger girl it was always vaguely present. She knew that somewherebetween herself and her friend there was a locked door. Her ownreserve never permitted her to attempt to open it. With a species ofpride that was largely composed of shyness, she held aloof. But shewas never quite unconscious of the opposing barrier. She felt that theold sweet intimacy, that had so lightened the burden of her solitude, was gone. 

Meanwhile, Daisy was growing stronger, and day by day more active. Shenever referred to her baby, and very seldom to her husband. When hisletters arrived she invariably put them away with scarcely a glance. Muriel sometimes wondered if she even read them. It was pitifullyplain to her that Will Musgrave's place in his wife's heart was very, very narrow. It had dwindled perceptibly since the baby's death. 

On the subject of Will's letters, Nick could have enlightened her, forhe always appeared at the cottage on mail-day for news. But Muriel, having discovered this habit, as regularly absented herself, with theresult that they seldom met. He never made any effort to see her. Onone occasion when she came unexpectedly upon him and Olga, shrimpingalong the shore, she was surprised that he did not second the child'seager proposal that she should join them. He actually seemed too keenupon the job in hand to pay her much attention. 

And gradually she began to perceive that this was the attitude towardsher that he had decided to assume. What it veiled she knew not, nordid she inquire. It was enough for her that hostilities had ceased. Nick apparently was bestowing his energies elsewhere. 

Midsummer passed, and a July of unusual heat drew on. Dr. Jim and hiswife and boys had departed to Switzerland. Nick and Olga had electedto remain at Redlands. They were out all day long in the motor ordogcart, on horseback or on foot. Life was one perpetual picnic toOlga just then, and she was not looking forward to the close of thesummer holidays when, so her father had decreed, she was to return toher home and the ordinary routine. Nick's plans were still unsettledthough he spoke now and then of a prospective return to India. He mustin any case return thither, so he once told her, whether he decidedto remain or not. It was not a pleasant topic to Olga, and she alwayssought to avoid any allusion to it. After the fashion of children, shelived in the present, and enjoyed it to the full: bathing withMuriel every morning, and spending the remainder of the day in Nick'ssociety. The friendship between these two was based upon completeunderstanding. They had been comrades as long as Olga could remember. Given Nick, it was very seldom that she desired any one besides. 

Muriel had ceased to marvel over this strange fact. She had come torealise that Nick was, and always must be, an enigma to her. Inthe middle of July, when the heat was so intense as to be almostintolerable, Daisy received a pressing invitation to visit an oldfriend, and to go yachting on the Broads. She refused it at firstpoint-blank; but Muriel, hearing of the matter before the letter wassent, interfered, and practically insisted upon a change of decision. 

"It is the very thing for you, " she declared. "Brethaven has doneits best for you. But you want a dose of more bracing air to make youquite strong again. It's absurd of you to dream of throwing away suchan opportunity. I simply won't let you do it. "

"But how can I possibly leave you all alone?" Daisy protested. "If theRatcliffes were at home, I might think of it, but--"

"That settles it, " Muriel announced with determination. "I never heardsuch nonsense in my life. What do you think could possibly happento me here? You know perfectly well that a couple of weeks of my ownsociety would do me no harm whatever. "

So insistent was she, that finally she gained her point, and Daisy, albeit somewhat reluctantly, departed for Norfolk, leaving her to herown devices. 

The heat was so great in those first days of solitude that Muriel wasnot particularly energetic. Apart from her early swim with Olga, andan undeniably languid stroll in the evening, she scarcely left theprecincts of the cottage: No visitors came to her. There were none butfisher-folk in the little village. And so her sole company consistedof Daisy's _ayah_ and the elderly English cook. 

But she did not suffer from loneliness. She had books and work inplenty, and it was even something of a relief, though she never ownedit, to be apart from Daisy for a little. They never disagreed, butalways at the back of her mind there lay the consciousness of a gulfbetween them. 

She was at first somewhat anxious lest Nick should feel called uponto entertain her, and should invite her to accompany him and Olga uponsome of their expeditions. But he did not apparently think of it, andshe was always very emphatic in assuring Olga that she was enjoyingher quiet time. 

She and Nick had not met for some weeks, and she began to think itmore than probable that they would not do so during Daisy's absence. Under ordinary circumstances this expectation of hers would doubtlesshave been realised, for Nick had plainly every intention of keepingout of her way; but the day of emergency usually dawns upon a world ofsleepers. 

The brooding heat culminated at last in an evening of furious storm, and Muriel speedily left the dinner-table to watch the magnificentspectacle of vivid and almost continuous lightning over the sea. It was a wonder that always drew her. She did not feel the nervousoppression that torments so many women, or if she felt it she roseabove it. The splendour of the rising storm lifted her out of herself. She had no thought for anything else. 

For more than half an hour she stood by the little sitting-roomwindow, gazing out upon the storm-tossed water. It had not begun torain, but the sound of it was in the air, and the earth was waitingexpectantly. There seemed to be a feeling of expectation everywhere. She was vaguely restless under it, curiously impatient for the climax. 

It came at last, so suddenly, so blindingly, that she reeled backagainst the curtain in sheer, physical recoil. The whole sky seemed toburst into flame, and the crash of thunder was so instantaneous thatshe felt as if a shell had exploded at her feet. Trembling, she hidher face. The world seemed to rock all around her. For the first timeshe was conscious of fear. 

Then as the thunder died into a distant roar, the heavens opened as ifat a word of command, and in one marvellous, glittering sheet the rainburst forth. 

She lifted her head to gaze upon this new wonder that the incessantlightning revealed. The noise was like the sharp rattle of musketry, and it almost drowned the heavier artillery overhead. The window wasblurred and streaming, but the brilliance outside was such that everydetail in the little garden was clear to her notwithstanding. Andthough she still trembled, she nerved herself to look forth. 

An instant later she sprang backwards with a wild cry of terror. A face--a wrinkled face that she knew--was there close against thewindow-pane, and had looked into her own. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE LIFTING OF THE MASK

Out of a curious numbness that had almost been a swoon there came toher the consciousness of a hand that rapped and rapped and rappedupon the pane. She had fled away to the farther end of the room in herpanic. She had turned the lamp low at the beginning of the storm, andnow it burned so dimly that it scarcely gave out any light at all. Beyond the window, the lightning flashed with an awful luridnessupon the rushing hail. Beyond the window, looking in upon her, andknocking, knocking, knocking, stood the figure of her dread. 

She came to herself slowly, with a quaking heart. It was more horribleto her than anything she had known since the days of her flightfrom the beleaguered fort; but she knew that she must fight down herhorror, she knew as certainly as if a physical force compelled herthat she would have to go to the window, would have to open to the manwho waited there. 

Slowly she brought her quivering body into subjection, while everynerve twitched and clamoured to escape. Slowly she dragged herselfback to the vision that had struck her with that paralysis of terror. Resisting feebly, invisibly compelled, she went. 

He ceased to knock, and, his face against the pane, he spokeimperatively. What he said, she could not hear in that tumult ofmighty sound. Only she felt his insistence, answered to it, wasmastered by it. 

White-faced, with horror clutching at her heart, she undid the catch. His one hand, strong, instinct with energy, helped her to raise thesash. In a moment he was in the room, bare-headed, drenched from headto foot. 

She fell back before him, but he scarcely looked at her. He shutthe window sharply, then strode to the lamp, and turned it up. Then, abruptly he wheeled and spoke in a voice half-kindly, half-contemptuous. "Muriel, you're a little idiot!"

There was little in the words to comfort her, yet she was instantlyand vastly reassured. She was also for the moment overwhelminglyashamed, but he did not give her time to think of that. 

"I couldn't get in any other way, " he said. "I tried the doors first, hammered at them, but no one came. Look here! Olga is ill, very ill, and she wants you badly. Are you brave enough to come?"

"Oh!" Muriel said, with a gasp. "Now, do you mean? With--with you?"

He threw her an odd look under his flickering eyelids, and she notedwith a scared minuteness of attention the gleam of the lamplight ontheir pale lashes. She had always hated pale eyelashes. They seemed toher untrustworthy. 

"Yes, " he told her grimly. "All alone--with me--in the storm. Shallyou be afraid--if I give you my hand to hold? You've done it before. "

Was he mocking her weakness? She could not say. She only knew that hewatched her with the intensity of an eagle that marks its quarry. Hedid not mean her to refuse. 

"What is the matter with Olga?" she asked. 

"I don't know. I believe it is sunstroke. We were motoring in themid-day heat. She didn't seem to feel it at the time, but her headached when we got in. She is in a high fever now. I've sent my man onin the motor to fetch Jim's locum from Weir. I should have brought thedogcart myself, to fetch you, but I couldn't trust the horse in this. "

"You left her alone to come here?" Muriel questioned. 

He nodded. "I had no choice. She wished it. Besides, there werenone but women-folk left. She's got one of them with her, the leastimbecile of the lot, which isn't saying much. They're all terrifiedof course at the storm--all except Olga. She is never afraid ofanything. "

A frightful crash of thunder carried away his words. Before it hadrolled away, Muriel was at the door. She made a rapid sign to him, andwas gone. 

Nick chafed up and down the room, waiting for her. The storm continuedwith unabated violence, but he did not give it a thought. He wascounting the moments with feverish impatience. 

Muriel's absence scarcely lasted for five minutes, but when shecame back all trace of fear had left her. Her face showed quiet andmatter-of-fact above the long waterproof in which she had wrappedherself. Over her arm she carried a waterproof cloak. 

She held it out to him. "It's one of Daisy's, but you are to wear it. I think you must be mad to have come out without anything. "

She put it round his shoulders; and he thanked her with a smotheredlaugh. 

A terrific blast of wind and rain met them as they emerged from thecottage, nearly whirling Muriel off her feet. She made an instinctiveclutch at her companion and instantly her hand was caught fast in his. He drew her arm close under his own, and she did not resist him. Therewas something reassuring in his touch. 

Later she wondered if they spoke at all during that terrible walk. Shecould never recall a word on either side. And yet, though in a measurefrightened, she was not panic-stricken. 

The storm was beginning to subside a little before they reachedRedlands, though the rain still fell heavily. In the intervals betweenthe lightning it was pitch dark. They had no lantern, but Nick wasundismayed. He walked as lightly and surely as a cat, and Murielhad no choice but to trust herself unreservedly to his guidance. Shemarvelled afterwards at the complete trust with which that night hehad managed to inspire her, but at the time she never questioned it. 

Yet when the lights of Redlands shone at last through the gloom, shebreathed a sigh of relief. Instantly Nick spoke. 

"Well done!", he said briefly. "You are your father's daughter still. "

She knew that she flushed in the darkness, and was glad that he couldnot see her face. 

"You must go and get dry, first of all, " he went on. "I told them tolight a fire somewhere. And you are to have some coffee too. Mind, Isay it. "

To this she responded with some spirit. "I will if you will. "

"I must go straight to Olga, " he said. "I promised I would. "

"Not in your wet things!" Muriel exclaimed. "No, Nick! Listen! I amnot wet, not as you are. Let me go to Olga first. You can send me somecoffee in her room if you like. But you must go at once and change. Promise you will, Nick!"

She spoke urgently. For some reason the occasion seemed to demand it. 

Nick was silent for a little, as if considering. Then as they finallyreached the porch he spoke in a tone she did not altogether fathom. 

"I say, you are not going to shut me out, you know. "

She looked up in astonishment. "Of course not. I never dreamt of sucha thing. "

"All right, " he said, and this time she knew he spoke with relief. "Iwill do as you like then. "

A moment more, and he opened the door, standing aside for her to pass. She entered quickly, glad to be in shelter, and paused to slip off herstreaming waterproof. He took it from her, passing his hand over hersleeve. 

"You are sure you are not wet through?"

"Quite sure, " she told him. "Take me straight up, won't you?"

"Yes. Come this way. "

He preceded her up the wide stairs where he might have walked besideher, not pausing for an instant till he stood at Olga's door. 

"Go straight in, " he said then. "She is expecting you. Tell her, ifshe wants to know, that I am coming directly. "

He passed on swiftly with the words, and disappeared into a room closeby. 

Very softly Muriel turned the door-handle and entered. Olga's voicegreeted her before she was well in the room. It sounded husky andstrained. 

"Muriel! Dear Muriel! I'm so glad you've come. I've wanted you so youcan't think. Where's Nick?"

"He is coming, dearest. " Muriel went forward to the bed, and took inhers the two hands eagerly extended. 

The child was lying in an uneasy position, her hair streaming in adisordered tangle about her flushed face. She was shivering violentlythough the hands Muriel held were burning. "You came all through thisawful storm, " she whispered. "It was lovely of you, dear. I hope youweren't frightened. "

Muriel sat down beside her. "And you have been left all alone, " shesaid. 

"I didn't mind, " gasped Olga. "Mrs. Ellis--that's the cook--was hereat first. But she was such an ass about the thunder that I sent heraway. I expect she's in the coal cellar. "

A gleam of fun shone for an instant in her eyes, and was gone. Thefevered hands closed tightly in Muriel's hold. "I feel so ill, " shemurmured, "so ill. "

"Where is it, darling?" Muriel asked her tenderly. 

"It's, it's all over me, " moaned Olga. "My head worst, and my throat. My throat is dreadful. It makes me want to cry. "

There was little that Muriel could do to ease her. She tied back thetossing hair, and rearranged the bedclothes; then sat down by herside, hoping she might get some sleep. 

Not long after, Nick crept in on slippered feet, but Olga heard himinstantly, and started up with out-flung arms. "Nick, darling, I wantyou! I want you! Come quite close! I think I'm going to die. Don't letme, Nick!"

Muriel rose to make room for him, but he motioned her back sharply;then knelt down himself by the child's pillow and took her head uponhis arm. 

"Stick to it, sweetheart!" he murmured softly. "There's a medicine mancoming, and you'll be better presently. " Olga cuddled against himwith a sigh, and comforted by the close holding of his arm droppedpresently into an uneasy doze. 

Nick never stirred from his position, and mutely Muriel sat andwatched him. There was a wonderful tenderness about him just then, asoftness with which she was strangely familiar, but which almost shehad forgotten. If she had never seen him before that moment, she knewthat she would have liked him. 

He seemed to have wholly forgotten her presence. His entire attentionwas concentrated upon the child. His lips twitched from time to time, and she knew that he was very anxious, intensely impatient under hisstillness for the doctor's coming. She remembered that old trick ofhis. She had never before associated it with any emotion. 

Suddenly he turned his head as if he had felt her scrutiny, and lookedstraight into her eyes. It was only for a moment. His glance flickeredbeyond her with scarcely a pause. Yet it was to her as if by thatswift look he had spoken, had for the first time made deep andpassionate protest against her bitter judgment of him, had as it wereshown her in a single flash the human heart beneath the jester's garb. 

And again very deep down in her soul there stirred that blind, unconscious entity, of the existence of which she herself had so vaguea knowledge, feeling upwards, groping outwards, to the light. 

There came upon her a sudden curious sense of consternation--a feelingas of a mental earthquake when the very foundations of the soulare shaken. Had she conceivably been mistaken in him? With all herknowledge of him, had she by some strange mischance--some maddening, some inexplicable misapprehension--failed utterly and miserably to seethis man as he really was?

For the first time the question sprang up within her. And she found noanswer to it--only that breathless, blank dismay. 

Softly Nick's voice broke in upon her seething doubt. He had laid Olgaback upon the pillow. 

"The doctor is here. Do you mind staying with her while I go?"

"You'll come back, Nick?" the child urged, in her painful whisper. 

"Yes, I'll come back, " he promised. "Honest Injun!"

He touched her cheek lightly at parting, and Olga caught the caressinghand and pressed it against her burning lips. Muriel saw his faceas he turned from the bed. It was all softened and quivering withemotion. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

AT THE GATE OF DEATH

In the morning they knew the worst. Olga had scarlet fever. 

The doctor imparted the news to Nick and Muriel standing outsidethe door of the sick-room. Nick's reception of it was by nomeans characteristic. For the first time in her life Muriel sawconsternation undisguised upon the yellow face. 

"Great Jupiter!" he said. "What a criminal ass I am!"

At another moment she could have laughed at the tragic force of hisself-arraignment. Even as it was, she barely repressed a smile as sheset his mind at rest. She needed no explanation. It was easy enough tofollow the trend of his thoughts just then. 

"If you are thinking of me, " she said, "I have had it. "

She saw his instant relief, though he merely acknowledged thestatement by a nod. 

"We must have a nurse, " he said briefly. "We shall manage all rightthen. I'll do my turn. Oh, stuff!" at a look from the doctor. "Isha'n't hurt. I'm much too tough a morsel for microbes to feed on. "

Possibly the doctor shared this opinion, for he made no verbalprotest. It fell to Muriel to do this later in the day when the nursewas installed, and she was at liberty to leave Olga's room. Nickhad just returned from the post-office whence he had been sending amessage to the child's father. She came upon him stealing up to take alook at her. Seeing Muriel he stopped. "How is she?"

Muriel moved away to an open window at the end of the passage beforeshe made reply. He followed her, and they stood together, looking outupon the sunset. 

"The fever is very high, " she said. "And she is suffering a good dealof pain. She is not quite herself at times. "

"You mean she is worse?" He looked at her keenly. 

It was exactly what she did mean. Olga had been growing steadily worseall day. Yet when abruptly he turned to leave her, Muriel laid a hastyhand upon his arm. 

"Nick, " she said, and her voice was almost imploring, "don't go in!Please don't go in!"

He stopped short. "Why not?"

She removed her hand quickly. "It's so dangerous--besides beingunnecessary. Won't you be sensible about it?"

He gave his head a queer upward jerk, and stood as one listening, notlooking at her. "What for?"

She could not think of any very convincing reason for the moment. Yetit was imperative that he should see the matter as she saw it. 

"Suppose I had not had it, " she ventured, "what would you have done?"

"Packed you off to the cottage again double quick, " said Nickpromptly. 

It was the answer she had angled for. She seized upon it. "Well, tellme why. "

He spun round on his heels and faced her. He was blinking veryrapidly. "You asked me that question once before, " he said. "And outof a sentimental consideration for your feelings--I didn't answerit. Do you really want an answer this time, or shall I go on beingsentimentally considerate?"

She heard the old subtle jeering note in his voice, but its effectupon her was oddly different from what it had ever been before. Itdid not anger her, nor did it wholly frighten her. It dawned upon hersuddenly that, though possibly it lay in his power to hurt her, hewould not do so. 

She answered him with composure. "I don't want you to be anythingbut sensible, Nick. And it isn't sensible to expose yourself tounnecessary risk. It's wrong. "

"That's my lookout, " said Nick. 

It was indubitably; but she wanted very much to gain her point. 

"Won't you at least keep away unless she asks for you?" she urged. 

"You seem mighty anxious to get rid of me, " said Nick. 

"I am not, " she returned quickly. "I am not. You know it isn't that. "

"Do I?" he said quizzically. "It's one of the few things I shouldn'thave known without being told. Well, I'm sorry I can't consent to besensible as you call it. I am quite sure personally that there isn'tthe slightest danger. It isn't so infectious at this stage, you know. Perhaps by-and-by, when she is through the worst, I will think aboutit. "

He spoke lightly, but she was aware of the anxiety that underlay thewords. She said no more, reminding herself that argument with Nick wasalways futile, sometimes worse. Nevertheless she found some comfortin the smile with which he left her. He had refused to treat with her, but his enmity--if enmity it could be called--was no longer active. Hehad proclaimed a truce which she knew he would not break. 

Olga was delirious that night, and privately Muriel was glad that shehad not been able to exclude him; for his control over the child waswonderful. As once with a tenderness maternal he had soothed her, so now he soothed Olga, patiently, steadfastly, even with a certaincheeriness. It all came back to her as she watched him, the strengthof the man, his selfless devotion. 

She could see that both doctor and nurse thought very seriously ofthe child. The former paid a late visit, but said very little beyondadvising her to rest if she could in an adjacent room. Both Nick andthe nurse seconded this, and, seeing there was nothing that she coulddo, she gave way in the matter, lying down as she was with but smallexpectation of sleep. But she was wearier than she knew, and theslumber into which she fell was deep, and would have lasted for somehours undisturbed. 

It was Nick who roused her, and starting up at his touch, she knewinstantly that what they had all mutely feared had drawn very near. His face told her at a glance, for he made no effort to dissemble. 

"The nurse thinks you had better come, " was all he said. 

She pushed the hair from her forehead, and turned without a word toobey the summons. But at the door something checked her, somethingcried aloud within her, bidding her pause. She stopped. Nick was closebehind her. Swiftly, obedient to the voice that cried, she stretchedout her hand to him. He gripped it fast, and she was conscious for aninstant of a curious gladness, a willingness to leave it in his hold, that she had never experienced before. But at the door of Olga's roomhe softly relinquished it, and drew back. 

Olga was lying propped on pillows, and breathing quickly. The nursewas bending over her with a glass, but Olga's face was turned away. She was watching the door. 

As Muriel came to her, the light eyes brightened to quickintelligence, and the parted lips tried to speak. But no sound cameforth, and a frown of pain succeeded the effort. 

Muriel stooped swiftly and grasped the slender hand that lay clenchedupon the sheet. 

"There, darling! Don't try to talk. It hurts you so. We are both here, Nick and I, and we understand all about it. "

It was the first time she had ever voluntarily coupled herself withhim. It came to her instinctively to do it in that moment. 

But Olga had something to say, something apparently that must be said. With infinite difficulty she forced a husky whisper. Muriel stoopedlower to catch it, so low that her face was almost touching the faceupon the pillow. 

"Muriel, " came haltingly from the parched lips, "there's something--Iwant--to say to you--about Nick. "

Muriel felt the blood surging at her temples as the faint wordsreached her. She would have given anything to know that he was out ofearshot. 

"Won't you say it in the morning, darling?" she said, almost withpleading in her voice. "It's so late now. "

It was not late. It was very, very early--the solemn hour whencountless weary ones fall into their long sleep. And the moment shehad spoken, her heart smote her. Was she for her own peace of mindtrying to silence the child's last words on earth?

"No, never mind, dear, " she amended tenderly. "I am listening to you. Tell me now. "

"Yes, " panted Olga. "I must. I must. You remember--that day--with thedaisies--the day we saw--the hawk?"

Yes, well Muriel remembered it. The thought of it went through herlike a stab. 

"Yes, dear. What of it?" she heard herself say. 

"Well, you know--I've thought since--that the daisies meant Nick, not--not--I can't remember his name, Muriel. "

"Do you mean Captain Grange, dear?"

"Yes, yes, of course. He was there too, wasn't he? I'm sure now--quitesure--they didn't mean him. "

"Very likely not, dear. "

"And Muriel--do you know--Nick was just miserable--after you went. Isort of felt he was. And late--late that night I woke up, and I creptdown to him--in the library. And he had his head down on the table--asif--as if--he was crying. Oh, Muriel!"

A sharp sob interrupted the piteous whisper. Muriel folded her armsabout the child, pillowing the tired head on her breast. All the fairhair had been cut off earlier in the day. Its absence gave Olga a verybabyish appearance. 

Brokenly, with many gasping pauses, the pathetic little story came toan end. "I went to him--and I asked him what it was. And he--he lookedup with that funny face he makes--you know--and he just said, 'Oh, it's all right. I've been feeding on dust and ashes all day long, that's all. And it's dry fare for a thirsty man!' He thought--Iwouldn't know what he meant. But I did, Muriel. And I always wantedto tell you. But--somehow--you wouldn't let me. He meant you. He washurt--so hurt--because you weren't kind to him. Oh, Muriel, won'tyou--won't you--try to be kind to him now? Please, dear, please!"

Muriel's eyes sought Nick, and instantly a thrill of surprise andrelief shot through her. He had not heard that request of Olga's. Shedoubted if he had heard anything. He was sunk in a chair well in thebackground with his head on his hand, and looking at him she saw hisshoulders shake with a soundless sob. 

She looked away again with a sense of trespass. This--this was the manwho had fought and cursed and slain under her eyes--the man from whoseviolence she had shrunk appalled, whose strength had made her shuddermany a time. She had never imagined that he could grieve thus--evenfor his little pal Olga. 

Tenderly she turned back to the child. That single glimpse of the manin pain had made it suddenly easy to grant her earnest prayer. 

"I won't be unkind to him again, darling, " she promised softly. 

"Never any more?" insisted Olga. 

"Never any more, my darling. "

Olga made a little nestling movement against her. It was all shewanted, and now that the effort of asking was over she was very tired. 

The nurse drew softly back into the shadow, and a deep silence fell inthe room. Through it in a long, monotonous roar there came the soundof the sea breaking, eternally breaking, along the beach. 

No one moved. Olga's breathing was growing slower, so much slower thatthere were times when Muriel, listening intently, fancied that ithad wholly ceased. She held the little slim body close in her arms, jealously close, as though she were defying Death itself. And everthrough the stillness she could hear her own heart beating like thehoofs of a galloping horse. 

Slowly the night began to pass. The outline of the window-frame becamevisible against a faint grey glimmer. The window was open, and abreath of the coming dawn wandered in with the fragrance of drenchedroses. A soft rain was falling. The patter of it could be heard uponthe leaves. 

Again Muriel listened for the failing breath, listened closely, tensely, her face bent low to the fair head that lay so still upon herbreast. 

But she heard nothing--nothing but her own heart quickening, quickening, from fear to suspense, from suspense to the anguish ofconviction. 

She lifted her face at last, and in the same instant there arosea sudden flood of song from the sleeping garden, as the first larksoared to meet the dawn. 

Half-dazed, she listened to that marvellous outpouring of gladness, sowildly rapturous, so weirdly holy. On, ever on, pealed the bird-voice;on to the very Gates of Heaven, and it seemed to the girl wholistened as though she heard a child's spirit singing up the steepsof Paradise. With her heart she followed it till suddenly she heardno more. The voice ceased as it had begun, ceased as a burst of musicwhen an open door is closed--and there fell in its stead a silencethat could be felt. 

CHAPTER XXXV

THE ARMISTICE

She could not have said for how long she sat motionless, the slight, inert body clasped against her breast. Vaguely she knew that thenight passed, and with it the wondrous silence that had lain like abenediction upon the dawn. A thousand living things awoke to rejoicein the crystal splendour of the morning; but within the quiet room thespell remained unlifted, the silence lay untouched. It was as thoughthe presence of Death had turned it into a peaceful sanctuary that nomere earthly tumult could disturb. 

She sat in a species of waking stupor for a long, long time, notdaring to move lest the peace that enfolded her should be shattered. Higher and higher the sun climbed up the sky till at last it toppedthe cedar-trees and shone in upon her, throwing a single ray of purestgold across the foot of the bed. Fascinated, she watched it travelslowly upwards, till a silent, one-armed figure arose and softly drewthe curtain. 

The room grew dim again. The world was shut out. She was not consciousof physical fatigue, only of a certain weariness of waiting, waitingfor she knew not what. It seemed interminable, but she would not seekto end it. She was as a soldier waiting for the order to quit hispost. 

There came a slight movement at last. Someone touched her, whisperedto her. She looked up blankly, and saw the nurse. But understandingseemed to have gone from her during those long hours. She could nottake in a word. There arose a great surging in her brain, and thewoman's face faded into an indistinct blur. She sat rigid, afraid tomove lest she should fall. 

She heard vague whisperings over her head, and an arm that was like asteel spring encircled her. Someone lifted her burden gently from her, and a faint murmur reached her, such as a child makes in its sleep. 

Then the arm that supported her gradually raised her up till shewas on her feet. Mechanically she tried to walk, but was instantlyovercome by a sick sense of powerlessness. 

"I can't!" she gasped. "I can't!"

Nick's voice answered her in a quick, confident whisper. "Yes, youcan, dear. It's all right. Hang on to me. I won't let you go. "

She obeyed him blindly. There was nothing else to do. And so, half-led, half-carried, she tottered from the room. 

A glare of sunlight smote upon her from a passage-window with abrilliance that almost hurt her. She stood still, clinging to Nick'sshoulder. 

"Oh, Nick, " she faltered weakly, "why don't they--pull down theblinds?"

Nick turned aside, still closely holding her, into the room in whichshe had rested for the earlier part of the night. 

"Because, thank God, " he said, "there is no need. Olga is going tolive. "

He helped her down into an easy-chair, and would have left her; butshe clung to him still, weakly but persistently. 

"Oh, Nick, don't laugh! Tell me the truth for once! Please, Nick, please!"

He yielded to her so abruptly that she was half-startled, droppingsuddenly down upon his knees beside her, the morning light full uponhis face. 

"I am telling you the truth, " he said. "I believe you have saved herlife. She has been sleeping ever since sunrise. "

Muriel gazed at him speechlessly; but she no longer suspected him oftrying to deceive her. If he had never told her the truth before thatmoment he was telling it to her then. 

She gave a little gasping cry of relief unspeakable, and hid her face. The next moment Nick was on his feet. She heard his quick, light stepas he crossed the threshold, and realised thankfully that he had lefther alone. 

A little later, a servant brought her a breakfast-tray with a messagefrom the master of the house to the effect that he hoped she would goto bed and take a long rest. 

It was excellent advice, and she acted upon it; for since the worststrain was over, sleep had become an urgent necessity to her. Shewondered as she lay down if Nick were following the same course. Shehoped he was, for she had a curiously vivid memory of the lines thatsleeplessness had drawn about his eyes. 

It was late afternoon when she awoke, and sat swiftly up with aconfused sense of being watched. 

"Don't jump like that!" a gruff voice said. "Lie down again at once. You are not to get up till to-morrow morning. "

She turned with a shaky laugh of welcome to find Dr. Jim seatedfrowning by her side. He laid a compelling hand upon her shoulder. 

"Lie down again, do you hear? There's nothing for you to do. Olga ismuch better, and doesn't want you. "

"And Nick?" said Muriel. 

They were the first words that occurred to her. She said themhurriedly, with heightened colour. 

Jim Ratcliffe frowned more than ever. He was feeling her pulse. "Anice couple of idiots you are!" he grimly remarked. "You needn't worryabout Nick. He has gone for a ride. As soon as he comes back, he willdine and go to bed. "

"Can't I get up to dinner?" Muriel suggested. 

She could scarcely have said why she made the proposal, and she wascertainly surprised when Jim Ratcliffe fell in with it. He looked athis watch. "Well, you may if you like. You will probably sleep thebetter for it. But I'll have no nonsense, mind, Muriel. You're to doas you're told. "

Muriel smiled acquiescence. She felt that everything was right nowthat Dr. Jim had returned to take the direction of affairs into hisown hands. He had come back alone, and he intended to finish hisholiday under Nick's roof. So much he told her before, with an abruptsmile, he thanked her for her care of his little girl and took himselfoff. 

She almost regretted her decision when she came to get up, for thestrain was telling upon her more than she had realised. Not sinceSimla days had she felt so utterly worn out. She was glad of the cupof tea which Dr. Jim sent in to her before she left her room. 

Sitting on the cushioned window-seat to drink it, she heard the treadof a horse's feet along the drive, and with a start she saw Nick comeinto view round a bend. 

Her first impulse was to draw back out of sight, but the next momentshe changed her mind and remained motionless. Her heart was suddenlybeating very fast. 

He was riding very carelessly, the bridle lying on the horse's neck. The evening sun was shining full in his face, but he did not seem tomind. His head was thrown back. He rode like a returning conqueror, wearied it might be, but triumphant. 

Passing into the shadow of the house, he saw her instantly, and thesmile that flashed into his face was one of sheer exultation. Hedropped the bridle altogether to wave to her. 

"Up already? Have you seen old Jim?"

She nodded. It was impossible at the moment not to reflect his smile. "I am coming down soon, " she told him. 

"Come now, " said Nick persuasively. 

She hesitated. He was slipping from his horse. A groom came up andtook the animal from him. 

Nick paused below her window, and once more lifted his grinning, confident face. 

"I say, Muriel!"

She leaned down a little. "Well?"

"Don't come if you don't want to, you know. "

She laughed half-reluctantly, conscious of a queer desire to pleasehim. Olga's words were running in her brain. He had fed on dust andashes. 

Yet still she hesitated. "Will you wait for me?"

"Till doomsday, " said Nick obligingly. 

And drawn by a power that would not be withstood, she went down, stillsmiling, and joined him in the garden. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE EAGLE STRIKES

Olga's recovery, when the crisis of the disease was past, was morerapid than even her father had anticipated; and this fact, combinedwith a spell of glorious summer weather, made the period of herquarantine very tedious, particularly as Nick was rigidly excludedfrom the sick-room. 

At Olga's earnest request Muriel consented to remain at Redlands. Daisy had written to postpone her own return to the cottage, havingreceived two or three invitations which she wished to accept if Murielcould still spare her. 

Blake was in Scotland. His letters were not very frequent, and thoughhis leave was nearly up, he did not speak of returning. 

Muriel was thus thrown upon Jim Ratcliffe's care--a state of affairswhich seemed to please him mightily. It was in fact his presence thatmade life easy for her just then. She saw considerably more of himthan of Nick, the latter having completely relegated the duties ofhost to his brother. Though they met every day, they were seldom alonetogether, and she began to have a feeling that Nick's attitude towardsher had undergone a change. His manner was now always friendly, butnever intimate. He did not seek her society, but neither did he avoidher. And never by word or gesture did he refer to anything that hadbeen between them in the past. She even wondered sometimes if theremight not possibly have been another interpretation to Olga's story. That unwonted depression of his that the child had witnessed hadsurely never been inspired by her. 

She found the time pass quickly enough during those six weeks. Thecare of Olga occupied her very fully. She was always busy devisingsome new scheme for her amusement. 

Mrs. Ratcliffe returned to Weir, and Dr. Jim determined to transferOlga to her home as soon as she was out of quarantine. With paternalkindliness, he insisted that Muriel must accompany her. Daisy's returnwas still uncertain, though it could not be long delayed; and Murielhad no urgent desire to return to the lonely life on the shore. 

So, to Olga's outspoken delight, she yielded to the doctor'spersuasion, and on the afternoon preceding the child's emancipationfrom her long imprisonment she walked down to the cottage to pack herthings. 

It was a golden day in the middle of September and she lingered awhileon the shore when her work was done. There was not a wave in all thevast, shimmering sea. The tide was going out, and the shallow rippleswere clear as glass as they ran out along the white beach. Murielpaused often in her walk. She was sorry to leave the littlefishing-village, realising that she had been very happy there. Lifehad passed as smoothly as a dream of late, so smoothly that she hadbeen content to live in the present with scarcely a thought for thefuture. 

This afternoon she had begun to realise that her peaceful time wasdrawing to an end. In a few weeks more, she would be in town in allthe bustle of preparation. And further still ahead of her--possiblytwo months--there loomed the prospect of her return to India, of LadyBassett's soft patronage, of her marriage. 

She shivered a little as one after another these coming eventspresented themselves. There was not one of them that she would nothave postponed with relief. She stood still with her face to thesunlit sea, and told herself that her summer in England had been alltoo short. She had an almost passionate longing for just one more yearof home. 

A pebble skimming past her and leaping from ripple to ripple like, aliving thing caught her attention. She turned sharply, and the nextmoment smiled a welcome. 

Nick had come up behind her unperceived. She greeted him with pleasureunfeigned. She was tired of her own morbid thoughts just then. Whatever he might be, he was at least never depressing. 

"I'm saying good-bye, " she told him. "I don't suppose I shall evercome here again. "

He came and stood beside her while he grubbed in the sand with astick. 

"Not even to see me?" he suggested. 

"Are you going to live here?" she asked in surprise. 

"Oh, I suppose so, " said Nick, "when I marry. "

"Are you going to be married?" Almost in spite of her the questionleapt out. 

He looked up, grinning shrewdly. "I put it to you, " he said. "Am I thesort of man to live alone?"

She experienced a curious sense of relief. "But you are not alone inthe world, " she pointed out. "You have relations. "

"You regard marriage as a last resource?" questioned Nick. 

She coloured and turned her face to the shore. "I don't think any manought to marry unless--unless--he cares, " she said, striving hard tokeep the personal note out of her voice. 

"Exactly, " said Nick, moving beside her. "But doesn't that remarkapply to women as well?"

She did not answer him. A discussion on this topic was the last thingshe desired. 

He did not press the point, and she wondered a little at hisforbearance. She glanced at him once or twice as they walked, but hishumorous, yellow face told her nothing. 

Reaching some rocks, he suddenly stopped. "I've got to get someseaweed for Olga. Do you mind waiting?"

"I will help you, " she answered. 

He shook his head. "No, you are tired. Just sit down in the sun. Iwon't be long. "

She seated herself without protest, and he turned to leave her. A fewpaces from her he paused, and she saw that he was trying to light acigarette. He failed twice, and impulsively she sprang up. 

"Nick, why don't you ask me to help you?"

He whizzed round. "Perhaps I don't want you to, " he said quizzically. 

She took the match-box from him. "Don't be absurd! Why shouldn't I?"She struck a match and held it out to him. But he did not take itfrom her. He took her wrist instead, and stooping forward lighted hiscigarette deliberately. 

She did not look at him. Some instinct warned her that his eyes wereintently searching her face. She seemed to feel them darting over herin piercing, impenetrable scrutiny. 

He released her slowly at length and stood up. "Am I to have thepleasure of dancing at your wedding?" he asked her suddenly. 

She looked up then very sharply, and against her will a burning blushrose up to her temples. He waited for her answer, and at last it came. 

"If you think it worth your while. "

"I would come from the other side of the world to see you made happy, "said Nick. 

She turned her face aside. "You are very kind. "

"Think so?" There was a note of banter in his voice. "It's the firsttime you ever accused me of that. "

She made no rejoinder. She had a feeling at the throat that preventedspeech, even had she had any words to utter. Certainly, as he haddiscovered, she was very tired. It was physical weariness, no doubt, but she had an almost overmastering desire to shed childish tears. 

"You trot back now, " said Nick cheerily. "I can grub along quite wellby myself. "

She turned back silently. Why was it that the world seemed so greyand cold on that golden summer afternoon? She sat down again in thesunshine, and began to trace an aimless design in the sand with thestick Nick had left behind. Away in the distance she heard his crackedvoice humming. Was he really as cheerful as he seemed, she wondered?Or was he merely making the best of things?

Again her thoughts went back to Olga's pathetic little revelation. Strange that she who knew him so intimately should never have seen himin such a mood! But did she know him after all? It was a questionshe had asked herself many times of late. She remembered how he hadlightly told her that he had a reverse side. But had she ever reallyseen it, save for those brief glimpses by Olga's bedside, and as itwas reflected in the child's whole-souled devotion to him? She wishedwith all her heart that he would lift the veil just once for her andshow her his inner soul. 

Again her thoughts passed to her approaching marriage. She hadreceived a letter from Blake that day, telling her at length of hisplans. He and Daisy had been staying in the same house, but he wasjust returning to town. He was to sail in less than a fortnight, andwould come and say good-bye to her immediately before his departure. The letter had been courteously kind throughout, but she had not felttempted to read it again. It contained no reference to their wedding, save such as she chose to attribute to the concluding sentence: "Wecan talk everything over when we meet. " A sense of chill struckher when she recalled the words. He was very kind, of course, andinvariably meant well; but she had begun to realise of late that therewere times when she found him a little heavy and unresponsive. Notthat she had ever desired any demonstration of tenderness from him, heaven knew. But the very consciousness that she had not desired thisadded to the chill. She was not quite sure that she wanted to see himagain before he sailed. Certainly he had never bored her; but it wasnot inconceivable that he might do so. She shivered ever so slightly. It was not an exciting prospect--life with Blake. He was quite sure tobe kind to her. He would consider her in every way. But was that afterall quite all she wanted? A great sigh welled suddenly up from thebottom of her heart. Life was ineffably dreary--when it was notrevoltingly horrible. 

"Shall I tell you what is the matter?" said Nick. 

She started violently, and found him leaning across the flat rockon which she was seated. His eyes were remarkably bright. She had afeeling that he suppressed a laugh as his look flickered over her. 

"Sorry I made you jump, " he said. "You ought to be used to me by thistime. Anyhow you needn't be frightened. My venom was extracted longago. "

She turned to him with sudden, unconsidered impulse. "Oh, Nick, " shesaid, "I sometimes think to myself I've been a great fool. "

He nodded. Her vehemence did not seem to surprise him. "I thought itwould strike you sooner or later, " he said. 

She laughed in spite of herself with her eyes full of tears. "There'snot much comfort in that. "

"I haven't any comfort to give you, " said Nick, "not at this stage. I'll give you advice if you like--which I know you won't take. "

"No, please don't! That would be even worse. " There was a tremor inher voice. She knew that she had stepped off the beaten track; but shehad an intense, an almost passionate longing to go a little further, to penetrate, if only for a moment, that perpetual mask. 

"Don't let us talk of my affairs, " she said. "Tell me of your own. What are you going to do?"

Nick's eyebrows went up. "I thought I was coming to your wedding, " heremarked. "That's as far as I've got at present. "

She made a gesture of impatience. "Do you never think of the future?"

"Not in your presence, " laughed Nick. "I think of you--you--and onlyyou. Didn't you know?"

She turned away in silence. Was he tormenting her deliberately? Or didhe fail to see that she was in earnest?

There followed a pause, and then, urged by that unknown impulse thatwould not be repressed, she did a curious thing. She got up, and, facing him, she made a very earnest appeal. 

"Nick, why do you always treat me like this? Why will you never behonest with me?"

There was more of pain than reproach in the words. Her voice was deepand very sad. 

But Nick scarcely looked at her. He was pulling tufts of dried seaweedoff the rock on which he leaned. 

"My dear girl, " he said, "how can you expect it?"

"Expect it!" she echoed. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

He drew himself slowly to a sitting posture. "How can I be honest withyou, " he said, "when you are not honest with yourself?"

"What do you mean?" she said again. 

He gave her an odd look. "You really want me to tell you?"

"Of course I do. " She spoke sharply. The old scared feeling was awakewithin her, but she would not yield to it. Now or never would she readthe enigma. She would know the truth, cost what it might. 

"What I mean is this, " said Nick. "You won't own it, of course, butyou are cheating, and you are afraid to stop. There isn't one woman inten thousand who has the pluck to throw down the cards when once shehas begun to cheat. She goes on--as you will go on--to the end of herlife, simply because she daren't do otherwise. You are out of thestraight, Muriel. That's why everything is such a hideous failure. Youare going to marry the wrong man, and you know it. "

He looked up at her again for an instant as he said it. He had spokenwith his usual shrewd decision, but there was no hint of excitementabout him. He might have been discussing some matter of a purelyimpersonal nature. 

Muriel stood mutely poking holes in the sand. She could find nothingto say to this matter-of-fact indictment. 

"And now, " Nick proceeded, "I will tell you why you are doing it. "

She started at that, and looked up with flaming cheeks. "I don't thinkI want to hear any more, Nick. It--it's rather late in the day, isn'tit?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I knew you would be afraid to face it. It's easier, isn't it, to go on cheating?"

Her eyes gleamed for a moment. He had flicked a tender place. "Very well, " she said proudly. "Say what you like. It will make nodifference. But please understand that I admit none of this. "

Nick's grin leapt goblin-like across his face and was gone. "I neverexpected it of you, " he told her coolly. "You would sooner die thanadmit it, simply because it would be infinitely easier for you to die. You will be false to yourself, false to Grange, false to me, ratherthan lower that miserable little rag of pride that made you jilt meat Simla. I didn't blame you so much then. You were only a child. You didn't understand. But that excuse won't serve you now. You are awoman, and you know what Love is. You don't call it by its name, butnone the less you know it. "

He paused for an instant, for Muriel had made a swift gesture ofprotest. 

"I don't think you know what you are saying, " she said, her voice verylow. 

He sprang abruptly to his feet. "Yes, " he said, speaking very rapidly. "That's how you will trick yourself to your dying day. It's a waywomen have. But it doesn't help them. It won't help you. For thatthing in your heart--the thing that is fighting for air--the thingyou won't own--the thing that drove you to Grange for protection--willnever die. That is why you are miserable. You may do what you will toit, hide it, smother it, trample it. But it will survive for all that. All your life it will be there. You will never forget it though youwill try to persuade yourself that it belongs to a dead past. All yourlife, "--his voice vibrated suddenly, and the ever-shifting eyes blazedinto leaping flame--"all your life, you will remember that I was onceyours to take or to throw away. And--you wanted me, yet--you chose tothrow me away. "

Fiercely he flung the words at her. There was nothing impersonalabout him now. He was vitally, overwhelmingly, in earnest. A deepglow covered the parchment face. The man was as it were electrified bypassion. 

And Muriel gazed at him as one gazing upon sudden disaster. What wasthis, what was this, that he had said to her? He had rent the veilaside for her indeed. But to what dread vision had he opened her eyes?

The old paralysing fear was knocking at her heart. She dreaded eachinstant to see the devil leap out upon his face. But as the secondspassed she realised that he was still his own master. He had flungdown the gauntlet, but he would go no further, unless she took it up. And this she could not do. She knew that she was no match for him. 

He was watching her narrowly, she knew, and after a few palpitatingmoments she nerved herself to meet his look. She felt as if itscorched her, but she would not shrink. Not for a moment must he fancythat those monstrous words of his had pierced her quivering heart. Whatever happened later, when this stunned sense of shock had lefther, she must not seem to take them seriously now, with his watchingeyes upon her. 

And so at last she lifted her head and faced him with a littlequivering laugh, brave enough in itself, but how piteous she neverguessed. 

"I don't think you are quite so clever as you used to be, Nick, " shetold him, "though I admit, "--her lips trembled--"that you are veryamusing sometimes. Blake once told me that you had the eyes of asnake-charmer. Is it true, I wonder? Anyhow, they don't charm me. "

She stopped rather breathlessly, half-frightened by his stillness. Would he understand that it was not her intention to defy him--thatshe was only refusing the conflict?

For a few moments her heart beat tumultuously, and then came a greatthrob of relief. Yes, he understood. She had nought to fear. 

He put his hand sharply over his eyes, turning from her. "I have nevertried to charm you, " he said, in a voice that sounded curiously chokedand unfamiliar. "I have only--loved you. "

In the silence that followed, he began to walk away from her, movingnoiselessly over the sand. 

Mutely she watched him, but she dared not call him back. And very soonshe was quite alone. 

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE PENALTY FOR SENTIMENT

It did not take Dr. Jim long to discover that some trouble or at theleast some perplexity was weighing upon his young guest's mind. Healso shrewdly remarked that it dated from the commencement ofher visit at his house. No one else noticed it, but this was notsurprising. There was always plenty to occupy the attention in theRatcliffe household, and only Dr. Jim managed to keep a sharp eye uponevery member thereof. Moreover, by a casual observer, there was littleor nothing that was unusual to be detected in Muriel's manner. Quietshe certainly was, but she was by no means listless. Her laugh did notalways ring quite true, that was all. And her eyes drooped a littlewearily from time to time. There were other symptoms, very slight, wholly imperceptible to any but a trained eye, yet not one of whichescaped Dr. Jim. 

He made no comment, but throughout that first week of her stay hewatched her unperceived, biding his time. During several motor rideson which she accompanied him he maintained this attitude while she satall unsuspecting by his side. She had never detected any subtlety inthis staunch friend of hers, and, unlike Daisy, she felt no fear ofhim. His blunt sincerity had never managed to wound her. 

And so it was almost inevitable that she should give him hisopportunity at last. 

Late one evening she entered his consulting-room where he was busywriting. 

"I want to talk to you, " she said. "Is it very inconvenient?"

The doctor leaned back in his chair. "Sit down there, " he said, pointing to one immediately facing him. 

She laughed and obeyed, faintly blushing. "I'm not a patient, youknow. "

He drew his black brows together. "It's very late. Why don't you go tobed?"

"Because I want to talk to you. "

"You can do that to-morrow, " bluntly rejoined Dr. Jim. "You can'tafford to sacrifice your sleep to chatter. "

"I am not sacrificing any sleep, " Muriel told him rather wearily. "Inever sleep before morning. "

He laid down his pen and gave her one of his hard looks. "Then you area very silly girl, " he said curtly at length. 

"It isn't my fault, " she protested. 

He shrugged his shoulders. "You all say that. It's the most ordinarylie I know. "

Muriel smiled. "I know you are longing to give me something nasty. Youmay if you like. I'll take it, whatever it is. "

Dr. Jim was silent for a space. He continued to regard her steadily, with a scrutiny that spared her nothing. She sat quite still under it. He had never disconcerted her yet. But when he leaned suddenly forwardand took her wrist between his fingers, she made a slight, instinctiveeffort to frustrate him. 

"Be still, " he ordered. "What makes you so absurdly nervous? Want ofsleep, eh?"

Her lips trembled a little. "Don't probe too deep, doctor, " shepleaded. "I am not very happy just now. "

"Why don't you tell me what is the matter?" he asked gruffly. 

She did not answer, and he continued frowning over her pulse. 

"What do you want to talk to me about?" he asked at last. 

She looked up with an effort. "Oh, nothing much. Only a letter froma Mrs. Langdale who lives in town. She is going to India in November, and says she will take charge of me if I care to go with her. She hasinvited me to go and stay with her beforehand. "

"Well?" said Jim, as she paused. 

"I don't want to go, " she said. "Do you think I ought? She is LadyBassett's sister. "

"I think it would probably do you good, if that's what you mean, " hereturned. "But I don't suppose that consideration has much weight withyou. Why don't you want to go?"

"I don't like strangers, and I hate Lady Bassett, " Muriel answered, with absolute simplicity. "Then there is Daisy. I don't know what herplans are. I always thought we should go East together. "

"There's no sense in waiting for Daisy's plans to develop, " declaredJim. "She is as changeable as the wind. Possibly Nick will be able tomake up her mind for her. I fancy he means to try. "

"Nick! You don't mean he will travel with Daisy?" There was almost atragic note in Muriel's voice. She looked up quickly into the shrewdeyes that watched her. 

"Why shouldn't he?" said Jim. 

"I don't know. I never thought of it. " Muriel leaned back again, afaint frown of perplexity between her eyes. "Perhaps, " she said slowlyat length, "I had better go to Mrs. Langdale. "

"I should in your place, " said Jim. "That handsome soldier of yourswon't want to be kept waiting, eh?"

"Oh, he wouldn't mind. " The weariness was apparent again in her voice, and with it a tinge of bitterness. "He never minds anything, " shesaid. 

Jim grunted disapproval. "And you? Are you equally indifferent?"

Her pale face flushed vividly. She was silent a moment; then suddenlyshe sat up and met his look fully. 

"You'll think me contemptible, I know, " she said, a great quiver inher voice. "I can't help it; you must. Dr. Jim, I'll tell you thetruth. I--I don't want to go to India. I don't want to be married--atall. "

She ended with a swift rush of irrepressible tears. It was out atlast, this trouble of hers that had been gradually growing behind thebarrier of her reserve, and it seemed to burst over her in the tellingin a great wave of adversity. 

"I've done nothing but make mistakes, " she sobbed "ever since Daddydied. "

Dr. Jim got up quietly to lock the door. The grimness had passed fromhis face. 

"My dear, " he said gruffly, "we all of us make mistakes directly webegin to run alone. "

He returned and sat down again close to her, waiting for her torecover herself. She slipped out a trembling hand to him, and he tookit very kindly; but he said no more until she spoke. 

"It's very difficult to know what to do. "

"Is it? I should have said you were past that stage. " His tone wasuncompromising, but the warm grip of his hand made up for it. Hisdirectness did not dismay her. "If you are quite sure you don't carefor the fellow, your duty is quite plain. "

Muriel raised her head slowly. "Yes, but it isn't quite so simple asthat, doctor. You see, it's not as if--as if--we either of us everimagined we were--in love with each other. "

Jim's eyebrows went up. "As bad as that?"

She leaned her chin on her hand. "I am sure there must be crowds ofpeople who marry without ever being in love. "

"Yes, " said Jim curtly. "And kindle their own hell in doing it. "

She started a little. "You think that?"

"I know it. I have seen it over and over again. Full half of theworld's misery is due to it. But you won't do that, Muriel. I know youtoo well. "

Muriel glanced up at him. "Do you know me? I don't think you wouldhave expected me to accept him in the first place. "

"Depends what you did it for, " said Jim. 

She fell suddenly silent, slowly twisting the ring on her finger. "Heknew why, " she said at last in a very low voice. "In fact--in fact heasked me for that reason. "

"And the reason still exists?"

She bent her head. "Yes. "

"A reason you are ashamed of?" pursued the doctor. 

She did not answer, and he drew his great brows together in deepthought. 

"You don't propose to take me any further into your confidence?" heasked at last. 

She made a quick, impulsive movement. "You--you--I think you know. "

"Will you let me tell you what I know?" he said. 

She shrank perceptibly. "If--if you won't make it too hard for me. "

"I can't answer for that, " he returned. "It depends entirely uponyourself. My knowledge does not amount to anything very staggeringin itself. It is only this--that I know a certain person who wouldcheerfully sacrifice all he has to make you happy, and that you haveno more cause to fear persecution from that person than from the manin the moon. "

He paused; but Muriel did not speak. She was still absently turningher engagement ring round and round. 

"To verify this, " he said, "I will tell you something which I am sureyou don't know--which in fact puzzled me, too, considerably, forsome time. He has already sacrificed more than most men would care toventure in a doubtful cause. It was no part of his plan to follow youto England. He set his face against it so strongly that he very nearlyended his mortal career for good and all in so doing. As it was, hesuffered for his lunacy pretty heavily. You know what happened. He wasforced to come in the end, and he paid the forfeit for his delay. "

Again he paused, for Muriel had sprung upright with such tragedy inher eyes that he knew he had said enough. The next moment she was onher feet, quivering all over as one grievously wounded. 

"Oh, do you know what you are saying?" she said, and in her voicethere throbbed the cry of a woman's wrung heart. "Surely--surely henever did that--for me!"

He did not seem to notice her agitation. "It was a fairly big priceto pay for a piece of foolish sentiment, eh?" he said. "Let us hope hewill know better next time. "

He looked up at her with a faintly cynical smile, but she was standingwith her face averted. He saw only that her chin was quivering like ahurt child's. 

"Come, " he said at length. "I didn't tell you this to distress you, you know. Only to set your mind at rest, so that you might sleepeasy. "

She mastered herself with an effort, and turned towards him. "I know;yes, I know. You--you have been very kind. Good-night, doctor. "

He rose and went with her to the door. "You are not going to lie awakeover this?"

She shook her head. "Good-night, " she said again. 

He watched her down the passage, and then returned to his writing. He smiled to himself as he sat down, but this time wholly withoutcynicism. 

"No, Nick, my boy, " he said, as he drove his pen into the ink. "Shewon't lie awake for you. But she'll cry herself to sleep for yoursake, you gibbering, one-armed ape. And the new love will be the oldlove before the week is out, or I am no weather prophet. "

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE WATCHER OF THE CLIFF

The gale that raged along the British coasts that autumn was thewildest that had been known for years. It swelled quite suddenly outof the last breezes of a superb summer, and by the middle of Septemberit had become a monster of destruction, devastating the shore. Thecrumbling cliffs of Brethaven testified to its violence. Beatingrain and colossal, shattering waves united to accomplish ruin anddestruction. And the little fishing-village looked on aghast. 

It was on the third day of the storm that news was brought to Nickof a landslip on his own estate. He had been in town ever since hisguests' departure, and had only returned on the previous evening. Hedid not contemplate a long stay. The place was lonely without Olga, and he was not yet sufficiently proficient in shooting with one arm toenjoy the sport, especially in solitude. He was in fact simply waitingfor an opportunity which he was convinced must occur before long, ofkeeping a certain promise made to a friend of his on a night of earlysummer in the Indian Plains. 

It was a wild day of drifting squalls and transient gleams ofsunshine. He grimaced to himself as he sauntered forth after luncheonto view the damage that had been wrought upon his property. The groundhe trod was sodden with long rain, and the cedars beyond the lawnplunged heavily to and fro in melancholy unrest, flinging great dropsupon him as he passed. The force of the gale was terrific, and he hadto bend himself nearly double to meet it. 

With difficulty he forced his way to the little summer-house thatoverlooked the shore. He marvelled somewhat to find it still standing, but it was sturdily built and would probably endure as long as theground beneath it remained unshaken. 

But beyond it a great gap yawned. The daisy-covered space on whichthey had sat that afternoon, now many weeks ago, had disappeared. Nothing of it remained but a crumbling desolation to which the daisiesstill clung here and there. 

Nick stood in such shelter as the summer-house afforded, and lookedforth upon the heaving waste of waters. The tide was rising. Hecould see the great waves swirling white around the rocks. Severalland-slips were visible from this post of observation. The village wasout of sight, tucked away behind a great shoulder of cliff; but an oldruined cottage that had been uninhabited for some time had entirelydisappeared. Stacks of seaweed had been thrown up upon the desertedshore, and lay in great masses above the breakers. The roar of theincoming tide was like the continuous roll of thunder. 

It was a splendid spectacle and for some time he stood, with his faceto the driving wind, gazing out upon the empty sea. There was not asingle vessel in all that wide expanse. 

Slowly at last his vision narrowed. His eyes came down to the greatgash at his feet where red earth and tufts of grass mingled, wherethe daisies had grown on that June day, where she had sat, proud andaloof, and watched him fooling with the white petals. Very vividlyhe recalled that summer afternoon, her scorn of him, her bitterhostility--and the horror he had surprised in her dark eyes when thehawk had struck. He laughed oddly to himself, his teeth clenched uponhis lower lip. How furiously she had hated him that day!

He turned to go; but paused, arrested by some instinct that badehim cast one more look downwards along the howling shore. In anothermoment he was lying full length upon the rotten ground, staringintently down upon the group of rocks more than two hundred feet belowhim. 

Two figures--a man and a woman--had detached themselves from theshelter of these rocks, and were moving slowly, very slowly, towardsthe path that led inwards from the shore. They were closely linkedtogether, so much his first glance told him. But there was somethingin the man's gait that caught the eye and upon which Nick's wholeattention was instantly focussed. He could not see the face, butthe loose-slung, gigantic limbs were familiar to him. With all hisknowledge of the world of men, he had not seen many such. 

Slowly the two approached till they stood almost immediately beneathhim, and there, as upon mutual impulse, they stopped. It was a cornerprotected from the driving blast by the crumbling mass of cliff thathad slipped in the night. The rain was falling heavily again, butneither the two on the shore nor the solitary watcher stretched on theperilous edge of the cliff seemed aware of it. All were intent uponother things. 

Suddenly the woman raised her face, and with a movement that waspassionate reached up her arms and clasped them about the man's bentneck. She was speaking, but no sound or echo of words was audiblein that tumult. Only her face lifted to the beating rain, with itspassion of love, its anguish of pain, told the motionless spectatorsomething of their significance. 

It was hidden from him almost at once by the man's massive head; buthe had seen enough, more than enough, to verify a certain suspicionwhich had long been quartered at the back of his brain. 

Stealthily he drew himself back from the cliff edge, and sat up on thedamp grass. Again his eyes swept the horizon; there was something of aglare in them. He was drenched through and through by the rain, buthe did not know it. Had Muriel seen him at that moment she might havelikened him with a shudder to an eagle that viewed its quarry fromafar. 

He returned to the house without further lingering, and spent the twohours that followed in prowling ceaselessly up and down his library. 

At the end of that time he sat down suddenly at the writing-table, andscrawled a hasty note. His face, as he did so, was like the face of anold man, but without the tolerance of age. 

Finishing, he rang for his servant. "Take this note, " he said, "andask at the Brethaven Arms if a gentleman named Captain Grange isputting up there. If he is, send in the note, and wait for an answer. If he is not, bring it back. "

The man departed, and Nick resumed his prowling. It seemed that hecould not rest. Once he went to the window and opened it to listen tothe long roar of the sea, but the fury of the blast was such thathe could scarcely stand against it. He shut it out, and resumed histramp. 

The return of his messenger brought him to a standstill. 

"Captain Grange was there, sir. Here is his answer. "

Nick grabbed the note with a gesture that might have indicated eitherimpatience or relief. He held the envelope between his teeth to slitit open, and they left a deep mark upon it. 

 "Dear Ratcliffe, " he read. "If I can get to you through this murderous storm, I will. Expect me at eight o'clock. --Yours, B. Grange. "

"All right, " said Nick over his shoulder. "Captain Grange will dinewith me. "

With the words he dropped the note into the fire, and then went awayto dress. 

CHAPTER XXXIX

BY SINGLE COMBAT

By eight o'clock Nick was lounging in the hall, awaiting his guest, but it was more than a quarter of an hour later that the latterpresented himself. 

Nick himself admitted him with a cheery grin. "Come in, " he said. "You've had a pretty filthy walk. "

"Infernal, " said Grange gloomily. 

He entered with a heavy, rather bullied air, as if he had come againsthis will. Shaking hands with his host, he glanced at him somewhatsuspiciously. 

"Glad you managed to come, " said Nick hospitably. 

"What did you want to see me for?" asked Grange. 

"The pleasure of your society, of course. " Nick's benignity wasunassailable, but there was a sharp edge to it somewhere of whichGrange was uneasily aware. "Come along and dine. We can talkafterwards. "

Grange accompanied him moodily to the dining-room. "I thought you wereaway, " he remarked, as they sat down. 

"I was, " said Nick. "Came back last night. When do you sail?"

"On Friday. I came down to say good-bye. "

"Muriel is at Weir, " observed Nick. 

"Yes. I shall go on there to-morrow. Daisy is only here for a night ortwo to pack up her things. "

"And then?" said Nick. 

Grange stiffened perceptibly. "I don't know what her plans are. Shenever makes up her mind till the last minute. "

Nick laughed. "She evidently hasn't taken you into her confidence. Sheis going East this winter. "

Grange looked up sharply. "I don't believe it. "

"It's true all the same, " said Nick indifferently, and forthwithforsook the subject. 

He started other topics, racing, polo, politics, airily ignoring hisguest's undeniable surliness, till at last Grange's uneasiness beganto wear away. He gradually overcame his depression, and had evenmanaged to capture some of his customary courtesy before the end ofdinner. His attitude was quite friendly when they finally adjourned tothe library to smoke. 

Nick followed him into the room and stopped to shut the door. 

Grange had gone straight to the fire, and he did not see him slipsomething into his pocket as he came forward. 

But he did after several minutes of abstraction discover something notquite normal in Nick's silence, and glanced down at him to ascertainwhat it was. 

Nick had flung himself into a deep easy-chair, and was lying quitemotionless with his head back upon the cushion. His eyes were closed. He had been smoking when he entered, but he had dropped his cigar halfconsumed into an ash-tray. 

Grange looked at him with renewed uneasiness, and looked away again. He could not help feeling that there was some moral tension somewhere;but he had never possessed a keen perception, he could not have saidwherein it lay. 

He retired into his shell once more and sat down facing his host insilence that had become dogged. 

Suddenly, without moving, Nick spoke. 

His words were slightly more deliberate than usual, very even, verydistinct. "To come to the point, " he said. "I saw you on the shorethis afternoon--you and Mrs. Musgrave. "

"What?" Grange gave a great start and stared across at him, grippingthe arms of his chair. 

Nick's face, however, remained quite expressionless. "I saw you, " herepeated. 

With an effort Grange recovered himself. "Did you though? I wonderedhow you knew I was down here. Where were you?"

There was an abrupt tremor behind Nick's eyelids, but they remainedclosed. "I was on the top of the cliff, on my own ground, watchingyou. "

Dead silence followed his answer--a silence through which the sound ofthe sea half a mile away swelled terribly, like the roar of a monsterin torment. 

Then at last Nick's eyes opened. He looked Grange straight in theface. "What are you going to do?" he said. 

Grange's hands dropped heavily from the chair-arms, and his wholegreat frame drooped slowly forward. He made no further attempt atevasion, realising the utter futility of such a course. 

"Do!" he said wearily. "Nothing. "

"Nothing?" said Nick swiftly. 

"No, nothing, " he repeated, staring with a dull intentness at theground between his feet. "It's an old story, and the less said aboutit the better. I can't discuss it with you or any one. I think it wasa pity you took the trouble to watch me this afternoon. "

He spoke with a certain dignity, albeit he refused to meet Nick'seyes. He looked unutterably tired. 

Nick lay quite motionless in his chair, inscrutably still, save forthe restless glitter behind his colourless eyelashes. At length, "Doyou remember a conversation we had in this room a few months ago?" heasked. 

Grange shook his head slightly, too engrossed with his miserablethoughts to pay much attention. 

"Well, think!" Nick said insistently. "It had to do with yourengagement to Muriel Roscoe. Perhaps you have forgotten that too?"

Grange looked up then, shaking off his lethargy with a visible effort. He got slowly to his feet, and drew himself up to his full giantheight. 

"No, " he said, "I have not forgotten it. "

"Then, " said Nick, "once more--what are you going to do?"

Grange's face darkened. He seemed to hesitate upon the verge ofvehement speech. But he restrained himself though the hot bloodmounted to his temples. 

"I have never yet broken my word to a woman, " he said. "I am not goingto begin now. "

"Why not?" said Nick, with a grin that was somehow fiendish. 

Grange ignored the gibe. "There is no reason why I should not marryher, " he said. 

"No reason!" Nick's eyes flashed upwards for an instant, and a curioussense of insecurity stabbed Grange. 

Nevertheless he made unfaltering reply. "No reason whatever. "

Nick sat up slowly and regarded him with minute attention. "Are youserious?" he asked finally. 

"I am absolutely serious, " Grange told him sternly. "And I warn you, Ratcliffe, this is not a subject upon which I will bear interference. "

"Man alive!" jeered Nick. "You must think I'm damned easily scared. "

He got up with the words, jerking his meagre body upright with aslight, fierce movement, and stood in front of Grange, arrogantlydaring. 

"Now just listen to this, " he said. "I don't care a damn how you takeit, so you may as well take it quietly. It's no concern of mine toknow how you have whitewashed this thing over and made it lookclean and decent--and honourable--to your fastidious eye. What I amconcerned in is to prevent Muriel Roscoe making an unworthy marriage. And that I mean to do. I told you in the summer that she should be noman's second best, and, by Heaven, she never shall. I had my doubtsof you then. I know you now. And--I swear by all things sacred that Iwill see you dead sooner than married to her. "

He broke off for a moment as though to get a firmer grip uponhimself. His face was terrible, his body tense as though controlled bytight-strung wires. 

Before Grange could speak, he went on rapidly, with a resolution moredeadly if less passionate than before. 

"If either of you had ever cared, it might have been a differentmatter. But you never did. I knew that you never did. I never troubledto find out your reason for proposing to her. No doubt it was strictlyhonourable. But I always knew why she accepted you. Did you know that, I wonder?"

"Yes, I did. " Grange's voice was deep and savage. He glowered downupon him in rising fury. "It was to escape you. "

Nick's eyes flamed back like the eyes of a crouching beast. He uttereda sudden, dreadful laugh. "Yes--to escape me, " he said, "to escape me!And it has fallen to me to deliver her from her chivalrous protector. If you look all round that, you may see something funny in it. "

"Funny!" burst forth Grange, letting himself go at last. "It's whatyou have been playing for all along, you infernal mountebank! But youhave overreached yourself this time. For that very reason I will nevergive her up. "

He swung past Nick with the words, goaded past endurance, desperatelyaware that he could not trust himself within arm's length of thatgibing, devilish countenance. 

He reached the door and seized the handle, wrenched furiously for afew seconds, then flung violently round. 

"Ratcliffe, " he exclaimed, "for your own sake I advise you not to keepme here!"

But Nick had remained with his face to the fire. He did not so muchas glance over his shoulder. He had suddenly grown intensely quiet. "Ihaven't quite done with you, " he said. "There is just one thing more Ihave to say. "

Grange was already striding back like an enraged bull, but somethingin the voice or attitude of the man who leaned against the mantelpiecewithout troubling to face him, brought him up short. 

Against his will he halted. "Well?" he demanded. 

"It's only this, " said Nick. "You know as well as I do that I possessthe means to prevent your marriage to Muriel Roscoe, and I shallcertainly use that means unless you give her up of your own accord. You see what it would involve, don't you? The sacrifice of yourprecious honour--and not yours only. "

He paused as if to allow full vent to Grange's anger, but still he didnot change his position. 

"You damned cur!" said Grange, his voice hoarse with concentratedpassion. 

Nick took up his tale as if he had not heard. "But, on the other hand, if you will write and set her free now, at once--I don't care how youdo it; you can tell any likely lie that occurs to you--I on my partwill swear to you that I will give her up entirely, that I will neverplague her again, will never write to her or attempt in any way toinfluence her life, unless she on her own initiative makes it quiteclear that she desires me to do so. "

He ceased, and there fell a dead silence, broken only by the lashingrain upon the windows and the long, deep roar of the sea. He seemed tobe listening to them with bent head, but in reality he heard nothingat all. He had made the final sacrifice for the sake of the woman heloved. To secure her happiness, her peace of mind, he had turned hisface to the desert, at last, and into it he would go, empty, beaten, crippled, to return no more for ever. 

Across the lengthening silence Grange's voice came to him. There was acertain hesitation in it as though he were not altogether sure of hisground. 

"I am to take your word for all that?"

Nick turned swiftly round. "You can do as you choose. I have nothingelse to offer you. "

Grange abandoned the point abruptly, feeling as a man who has lost hisfooting in a steep place and is powerless to climb back. Perhaps evenhe was vaguely conscious of something colossal hidden away behind thatbaffling, wrinkled mask. 

"Very well, " he said, with that dogged dignity in which Englishmenclothe themselves in the face of defeat. "Then you will take my wordto set her free. "

"To-night?" said Nick. 

"To-night. "

There was another pause. Then Nick crossed to the door and unlockedit. 

"I will take your word, " he said. 

A few seconds later, when Grange had gone, he softly shut and lockedthe door once more, and returned to his chair before the fire. Greatgusts of rain were being flung against the window-panes. Thewind howled near and far with a fury that seemed to set the wallsvibrating. Now and then dense puffs of smoke blew out across thehearth into the room, and the atmosphere grew thick and stifling. 

But Nick did not seem aware of these things. He sat on unheeding inthe midst of his dust and ashes while the storm raged relentlesslyabove his head. 

CHAPTER XL

THE WOMAN'S CHOICE

With the morning there came a lull in the tempest though the greatwaves that spent themselves upon the shore seemed scarcely lessmountainous than when they rode before the full force of the storm. 

In Daisy Musgrave's cottage above the beach, a woman with a white, jaded face sat by the window writing. A foreign envelope with anIndian stamp lay on the table beside her. It had not been opened; andonce, glancing up, she pushed it slightly from her with a nervous, impatient movement. Now and then she sat with her head upon her handthinking, and each time she emerged from her reverie it was to throwa startled look towards the sea as though its ceaseless roar unnervedher. 

Nevertheless, at sight of a big, loosely-slung figure walking slowlyup the flagged path, a quick smile flashed into her face, making itinstantly beautiful. She half rose from her chair, and then droppedback again, still faintly smiling, while the light which only oneman's coming can kindle upon any woman's face shone upon hers, erasingall weariness and bitterness while it lingered. 

At the opening of the door she turned without rising. "So you havecome after all! But I knew you would. Sit down a minute and wait whileI finish this tiresome letter. I have just done. "

She was already scribbling last words as fast as her pen would move, and her visitor waited for her without a word. 

In a few minutes she turned to him again. "I have been writing a noteto Muriel, explaining things a little. She doesn't yet know that Iam here; but it would be no good for her to join me, for I am onlypacking. I shall leave as soon as I can get away. And she too is goingalmost at once to Mrs. Langdale, I believe. So we shall probably notmeet again at present. You will be seeing her this afternoon. Will yougive it to her?"

She held the letter out to him, but he made no move to take it. Hisface was very pale, more sternly miserable than she had ever seen it. "I think you had better post it, " he said. 

She rose and looked at him attentively. "Why, what's the matter, Blake?" she said. 

He did not answer, and she went on immediately, still with her eyessteadily uplifted. 

"Do you know, Blake, I have been thinking all night, and I have madeup my mind to have done with all this foolish sentimentalityfinally and for ever. From to-day forward I enter upon the prosaic, middle-aged stage. I was upset yesterday at the thought of losing youso soon. It's been a lovely summer, hasn't it?" She stifled a sighhalf uttered. "Well, it's over. You have to go back to India, and wemust just make the best of it. "

He made a sharp movement, but said nothing. The next moment he droppeddown heavily into a chair and sat bowed, his head in his hands. 

Daisy stood looking down at him, and slowly her expression changed. Avery tender look came into her eyes, a look that made her seem olderand at the same time more womanly. Very quietly she sat down on thearm of his chair and laid her hand upon him, gently rubbing it to andfro. 

"My own boy, don't fret, don't fret!" she said. "You will be happierby-and-by. I am sure of it. "

He took the little hand from his shoulder, and held it against hiseyes. At last after several seconds of silence he spoke. 

"Daisy, I have broken my engagement. "

Daisy gave a great start. A deep glow overspread her face, but itfaded very swiftly, leaving her white to the lips. "My dear Blake, why?" she whispered. 

He answered her with his head down. "It was Nick Ratcliffe's doing. Hemade me. "

"Made you, Blake! What can you mean?"

Sullenly Grange made answer. "He had got the whip-hand, and I couldn'thelp myself. He saw us on the shore together yesterday afternoon, madeup his mind then and there that I was no suitable partner for Muriel, got me to go and dine with him, and told me so. "

"But Blake, how absurd!" Daisy spoke with a palpable effort. "How--howutterly unreasonable! What made you give in to him?"

Grange would not tell her. "I shouldn't have done so, " he saidmoodily, "if he hadn't given his word that he would never pesterMuriel again. She's well rid of me anyhow. He was right there. Shewill probably see it in the same light. "

"What did you say to her?" questioned Daisy. 

"Oh, it doesn't matter, does it? I didn't see her. I wrote. I didn'ttell her anything that it was unnecessary for her to know. In factI didn't give her any particular reason at all. She'll think me aninfernal cad. And so I am. "

"You are not, Blake!" she declared vehemently. "You are not!"

He was silent, still tightly clasping her hand. 

After a pause, she made a gentle movement to withdraw it; but atthat he turned with a sudden mastery and thrust his arms about her. "Daisy, " he broke out passionately, "I can't do without you! I can't!I can't! I've tried, --Heaven knows how I've tried! But it can't bedone. It was madness ever to attempt to separate us. We were bound tocome together again. I have been drifting towards you always, always, even when I wasn't thinking of you. "

Fiercely the hot words rushed out. He was holding her fast, though hadshe made the smallest effort to free herself he would have let her go. 

But Daisy sat quite still, neither yielding nor resisting. Only athis last words her lips quivered in a smile of tenderest ridicule. "I know, my poor old Blake, " she said, "like a good ship without arudder--caught in a strong current. "

"And it has been the same with you, " he insisted. "You have alwayswanted me more than--"

He did not finish, for her hand was on his lips, restraining him. "Youmustn't say it, dear. You mustn't say it. It hurts us both too much. There! Let me go! It does no good, you know. It's all so vain andfutile--now. " Her voice trembled suddenly, and she ceased to speak. 

He caught her hand away, looking straight up at her with that new-bornmastery of his that made him so infinitely hard to resist. 

"If it is quite vain, " he said, "then tell me to go, --and I will. "

She tried to meet his eyes, but found she could not. "I--shall haveto, Blake, " she said in a whisper. 

"I am waiting, " he told her doggedly. 

But she could not say the word. She turned her face away and satsilent. 

He waited with absolute patience for minutes. Then at last very gentlyhe took his arms away from her and stood up. 

"I am going back to the inn, " he said. "And I shall wait there tillto-morrow morning for your answer. If you send me away, I shallgo without seeing you again. But if--if you decide otherwise, "--helowered his voice as if he could not wholly trust it--"then I shallapply at once for leave to resign. And--Daisy--we will go to the NewWorld together, and make up there for all the happiness we have missedin the Old. "

He ended almost under his breath, and she seemed to hear his heartbeat through the words. It was almost too much for her even then. Butshe held herself back, for there was that in her woman's soul thatclamoured to be heard--the patter of tiny feet that had never ceasedto echo there, the high chirrup of a baby's voice, the vision of atoddling child with eager arms outstretched. 

And so she held her peace and let him go, though the struggle withinher left her physically weak and cold, and she did not dare to raiseher eyes lest he should surprise the love-light in them once again. 

It had come to this at last then--the final dividing of the ways, thedefinite choice between good and evil. And she knew in her heart whatthat choice would be, knew it even as the sound of the closing doorreached her consciousness, knew it as she strained her ears to catchthe fall of his feet upon the flagged path, knew it in every nerve andfibre of her being as she sprang to the window for a last glimpse ofthe man who had loved her all her life long, and now at last had wonher for himself. 

Slowly she turned round once more to the writing-table. The unopenedletter caught her eye. She picked it up with a set face, looked atit closely for a few moments, and then deliberately tore it into tinyfragments. 

A little later she went to her own room. From a lavender-scenteddrawer she took an envelope, and shook its contents into her hand. Only a tiny unmounted photograph of a laughing baby, and a ringlet ofbaby hair!

Her face quivered as she looked at them. They had been her dearesttreasures. Passionately she pressed them to her trembling lips, butshe shed no tears. And when she returned to the sitting-room there wasno faltering in her step. 

She poked the fire into a blaze, and, kneeling, dropped her treasuresinto its midst. A moment's torture showed in her eyes, and passed. 

She had chosen. 

CHAPTER XLI

THE EAGLE'S PREY

During the whole of that day Muriel awaited in restless expectancy thecoming of her _fiancé_. She had not heard from him for nearly a week, and she had not written in the interval for the simple reason thatshe lacked his address. But every day she had expected him to pay hispromised visit of farewell. 

It was hard work waiting for him. If she could have written, she wouldhave done so days before in such a fashion as to cause him almostcertainly to abandon his intention of seeing her. For her mind wasmade up at last after her long torture of indecision. Dr. Jim'svigorous speaking had done its work, and she knew that her onlypossible course lay in putting an end to her engagement. 

She had always liked Blake Grange. She knew that she always would likehim. But emphatically she did not love him, and she knew now with thesure intuition which all women develop sooner or later that hehad never loved her. He had proposed to her upon a mere chivalrousimpulse, and she was convinced that he would not wish to quarrel withher for releasing him. 

Yet she dreaded the interview, even though she was quite sure that hewould not lose his self-control and wax violent, as had Nick on thatterrible night at Simla. She was almost morbidly afraid of hurting hisfeelings. 

Of Nick she rigidly refused to think at all, though it was no easymatter to exclude him from her thoughts, for he always seemed to beclamouring for admittance. But she could not help wondering if, whenBlake had gone at last and she was free, she would be very greatlyafraid. 

She was sitting alone in her room that afternoon, watching thescudding rain-clouds, when Olga brought her two letters. 

"Both from Brethaven, " she said, "but neither from Nick. I wonder ifhe is at Redlands. I hope he will come over here if he is. "

Muriel did not echo the hope. She knew the handwriting upon both theenvelopes, and she opened Daisy's first. It did not take long to read. It simply contained a brief explanation of her presence at Brethaven, which was due to an engagement having fallen through, mentioned Blakeas being on the point of departure, and wound up with the hope thatMuriel would not in any way alter her plans for her benefit as she wasonly at the cottage for a few days to pack her possessions and she didnot suppose that she would care to be with her while this was goingon. 

There was no reference to any future meeting, and Muriel gravely putthe letter away in thoughtful silence. She had no clue whatever to theslackening of their friendship, but she could not fail to note withpain how far asunder they had drifted. 

She turned to Grange's letter with a faint wonder as to why he shouldhave troubled himself to write when he was so short a distance fromher. 

It contained but a few sentences; she read them with widening eyes. 

 "Fate or the devil has been too strong for me, and I am compelled to break my word to you. I have no excuse to offer, except that my hand has been forced. Perhaps in the end it will be better for you, but I would have stood by had it been possible. And even now I would not desert you if I did not positively know that you were safe--that the thing you feared has ceased to exist. 

 "Muriel, I have broken my oath, and I can hardly ask your forgiveness. I only beg you to believe that it was not by my own choice. I was fiendishly driven to it against my will. I came to this place to say good-bye, but I shall leave to-morrow without seeing you unless you should wish otherwise. 

 "B. Grange. "

She reached the end of the letter and sat quite still, staring at theopen page. 

She was free, that was her first thought, free by no effort of herown. The explanation she had dreaded had become unnecessary. She wouldnot even have to face the ordeal of a meeting. She drew a long breathof relief. 

And then swift as a poisoned arrow came another thought, --a stabbing, intolerable suspicion. Why had he thus set her free? How had his handbeen forced? By what means had he been fiendishly driven?

She read the letter through again, and suddenly her heart began tothrob thick and hard, so that she gasped for breath. This was Nick'sdoing. She was as sure of it as if those brief, bitter sentences haddefinitely told her so. Nick was the motive power that had compelledGrange to this action. How he had done it, she could not even vaguelysurmise. But that he had in some malevolent fashion come between themshe did not for an instant doubt. 

And wherefore? She put her hand to her throat, feeling suffocated, as the memory of that last interview with him on the shore racedwith every fiery detail through her brain. He had marked her down forhimself, long, long ago, and whatever Dr. Jim might say, he had neverabandoned the pursuit. He meant to capture her at last. She mightflee, but he was following, tireless, fleet, determined. Presently hewould swoop like an eagle upon his prey, and she would be utterly athis mercy. He had beaten Grange, and there was no one left to helpher. 

"Oh, Muriel, "--it was Olga's voice from the window--"come here, quick, quick! I can see a hawk. "

She started as one starts from a horrible dream, and looked round withdazed eyes. 

"It's hovering!" cried Olga excitedly. "It's hovering! There! Now ithas struck!"

"And something is dead, " said Muriel, in a voiceless whisper. 

The child turned round, saw something unusual in her friend's face, and went impetuously to her. 

"Muriel, darling, you look so strange. Is anything the matter?"

Muriel put an arm around her. "No, nothing, " she said. "Olga, will itsurprise you very much to hear that I am not going to marry CaptainGrange after all?"

"No, dear, " said Olga. "I never somehow thought you would, and Ididn't want you to either. "

"Why not?" Muriel looked up in some surprise. "I thought you likedhim. "

"Oh, yes, of course I do, " said Olga. "But he isn't half the man Nickis, even though he is a V. C. Oh, Muriel, I wish, --I do wish--you wouldmarry Nick. Perhaps you will now. "

But at that Muriel cried out sharply and sprang to her feet, almostthrusting Olga from her. 

"No, never!" she exclaimed, "Never, --never, --never!" Then, seeingOlga's hurt face, "Oh, forgive me, dear! I didn't mean to beunkind. But please don't ever dream of such a thing again. It--it'simpossible--quite. Ah, there is the gong for tea. Let us go down. "

They went down hand in hand. But Olga was very quiet for the rest ofthe evening; and she did not cling to Muriel as usual when she saidgood-night. 

CHAPTER XLII

THE HARDEST FIGHT OF ALL

It was growing late on that same evening when to Daisy, packing in herroom with feverish haste, a message was brought that Captain Ratcliffewas waiting, and desired to see her. 

Her first impulse was to excuse herself from the interview, for sheand Nick had never stood upon ceremony; but a very brief considerationdecided her to see him. Since he had come at an unusual hour, itseemed probable that he had some special object in view, and if thatwere so, she would find it hard to turn him from his purpose. But sheresolved to make the interview as brief as possible. She had no placefor Nick in her life just then. 

She entered the little parlour with a certain impetuosity, that wasnot wholly spontaneous. "My dear Nick, " she said, as she did so, "I can give you exactly five minutes, not one second more, for I amfrightfully busy packing up my things to leave to-morrow. "

He came swiftly to meet her, so swiftly that she was for the momentdeceived, and fancied that he was about to greet her with hiscustomary bantering gallantry. But he did not lift her fingers to hislips after his usual gay fashion. He only held her proffered hand verytightly for several seconds without verbal greeting of any sort. 

Suddenly he began to speak, and as he did so she seemed to seea hundred wrinkles spring into being on his yellow face. "I havesomething to say to you, Mrs. Musgrave, " he said. "And it's somethingso particularly beastly that I funk saying it. We have always beensuch pals, you and I, and that makes it all the harder. "

He broke off, his shrewd glance flashing over her, keen and elusive asa rapier. Daisy faced him quite fully and fearlessly. The possibilityof a conflict in this quarter had occurred to her before. She wouldnot shirk it, but she was determined that it should be as brief aspossible. 

"Being pals doesn't entitle you to go trespassing, Nick, " she said. 

"I know that, " said Nick, speaking very rapidly. "None better. ButI am not thinking of you only, though I hate to make you angry. Mrs. Musgrave--Daisy--I want to ask you, and you can't refuse to answer. What are you doing? What are you going to do?"

"I don't know what you mean, " she said, speaking coldly. "And anyhowI can't stop to listen to you. I haven't time. I think you had bettergo. "

"You must listen, " Nick said. She caught the grim note ofdetermination in his voice, and was aware of the whole force of hispersonality flung suddenly against her. "Daisy, " he said, "you are tolook upon me as Will's representative. I am the nearest friend he has. Have you thought of him at all lately, stewing in those hellish Plainsfor your sake? He's such a faithful chap, you know. Can't you go backto him soon? Isn't it--forgive me--isn't it a bit shabby to playthis sort of game when there's a fellow like that waiting for you andfretting his very heart out because you don't go?"

He stopped--his lips twitching with the vigour of his appeal. AndDaisy realised that he would have to be told the simple truth. Hewould not be satisfied with less. 

Very pale but quite calm, she braced herself to tell him. "I am afraidyou are pleading a lost cause, " she said, her words quiet and verydistinct. "I am never going back to him. "

"Never!" Nick moved sharply drawing close to her. "Never?" he saidagain; then with abrupt vehemence, "Daisy, you don't mean that! Youdidn't say it!"

She drew back slightly from him, but her answer was perfectly steady, rigidly determined. "I have said it, Nick. And I meant it. You hadbetter go. You will do no good by staying to argue. I know allthat you can possibly say, and it makes no difference to me. I havechosen. "

"What have you chosen?" he demanded. 

For an instant she hesitated. There was something almost fierce in hismanner, something she had never encountered before, something thatin spite of her utmost effort made her feel curiously uneasy, evenapprehensive. She had always known that there was a certain uncannystrength about Nick, but to feel the whole weight of it directedagainst her was a new experience. 

"What have you chosen?" he repeated relentlessly. 

And reluctantly, more than half against her will, she told him. "I amgoing to the man I love. "

She was prepared for some violent outburst upon her words, butnone came. Nick heard her in silence, standing straight before her, watching her, she felt, with an almost brutal intentness, though hiseyes never for an instant met her own. 

"Then, " he said suddenly at length, and quick though they were, it seemed to her that the words fell with something of the awfulprecision of a death-sentence, "God help you both; for you are goingto destroy him and yourself too. "

Daisy made a sharp gesture; it was almost one of shrinking. And atonce he turned from her and fell to pacing the little room, up anddown, up and down incessantly, like an animal in a cage. It wasuseless to attempt to dismiss him, for she saw that he would not go. She moved quietly to a chair and sat down to wait. 

Abruptly at last he stopped, halting in front of her. "Daisy, "--hebegan, and broke off short, seeming to battle with himself. 

She looked up in surprise. It was so utterly unlike Nick to relinquishhis self-command at a critical juncture. The next moment he amazed herstill further. He dropped suddenly down on his knees and gripped herclasped hands fast. 

"Daisy, " he said again, and this time words came, jerky andpassionate, "this is my doing. I've driven you to it. If I hadn'tinterfered with Grange, you would never have thought of it. "

She sat without moving, but the hasty utterance had its effect uponher. Some of the rigidity went out of her attitude. "My dear Nick, "she said, "what is the good of saying that?"

"Isn't it true?" he persisted. 

She hesitated, unwilling to wound him. 

"You know it is true, " he declared with vehemence. "If I had let himalone, he would have married Muriel, and this thing would never havehappened. God knows I did what was right, but if it doesn't turn outright, I'm done for. I never believed in eternal damnation before, butif this thing comes to pass it will be hell-fire for me for as long asI live. For I shall never believe in God again. "

He swung away from her as though in bodily torture, came in contactwith the table and bowed his head upon it. For many seconds hisbreathing, thick and short, almost convulsed, was the only sound inthe room. 

As for Daisy, she sat still, staring at him dumbly, witnessing hisagony till the sight of it became more than she could bear. Then shemoved, reached stiffly forward, and touched him. 

"You are not to blame yourself, Nick, " she said. 

He did not stir. "I don't, " he answered, and again fell silent. 

At last he moved, seemed to pull himself together, finally got to hisfeet. 

"Do you think you will be happy?" he said. "Do you think you willever manage to forget what you have sacrificed to this fetish youcall Love, --how you broke the heart of one of the best fellows in theworld, and trampled upon the memory of your dead child--the littlechap you used to call the light of your eyes, who used to hold out hisarms directly he saw you and cry when you went away?"

His voice was not very steady, and he paused but he did not look ather or seem to expect any reply. 

Daisy gave a great shiver. She felt cold from head to foot. But shewas not afraid of Nick. If she yielded, it would not be through fear. 

A full minute crawled away before he spoke again. "And this fellowGrange, " he said then. "He is a man who values his honour. He haslived a clean life. He holds an unblemished record. He is in yourhands. You can do what you like with him--whatever your love inspiresyou to do. You can pull him back into a straight course, or you canwreck him for good and all. Which is it going to be, I wonder? It's asacrifice either way, --a sacrifice to Love or a sacrifice to devils. You can make it which you will. But if it is to be the last, nevertalk of Love again. For Love--real Love--is the safeguard from allevil. And if you can do this thing, it has never been above yourhorizon, and never will be. "

Again he stopped, and again there was silence while Daisy satwhite-faced and slightly bowed, wondering when it would be over, wondering how much longer she could possibly endure. 

And then suddenly he bent down over her. His hand was on her shoulder. "Daisy, " he said, and voice and touch alike implored her, "give himup, dear! Give him up! You can do it if you will, if your love isgreat enough. I know how infernally hard it is to do. I've done itmyself. It means tearing your very heart out. But it will be worthit--it must be worth it--afterwards. You are bound--some time--to reapwhat you have sown. "

She lifted a haggard face. There was something in the utterance thatcompelled her. And so looking, she saw that which none other of thisman's friend's had ever seen. She saw his naked soul, stripped bare ofall deception, of all reserve, --a vital, burning flame shining in thedesert. The sight moved her as had nought else. 

"Oh, Nick, " she cried out desperately, "I can't--I can't!"

He bent lower over her. He was looking straight down into her eyes. "Daisy, " he said very urgently, "Daisy, for God's sake--try!"

Her white lips quivered, striving again to refuse. But the words wouldnot come. Her powers of resistance had begun to totter. 

"You can do it, " he declared, his voice quick and passionate as thoughhe pleaded with her for life itself. "You can do it--if you will. Iwill help you. You shan't stand alone. Don't stop to think. Just comewith me now--at once--and put an end to it before you sleep. For youcan't do this thing, Daisy. It isn't in you. It is all a monstrousmistake, and you can't go on with it. I know you better than you knowyourself. We haven't been pals all these years for nothing. And thereis that in your heart that won't let you go on. I thought it was deada few minutes ago. But, thank God, it isn't. I can see it in youreyes. "

She uttered an inarticulate sound that was more bitter than anyweeping, and covered her face. 

Instantly Nick straightened himself and turned away. He went to thewindow and leaned his head against the sash. He had the spent look ofa man who has fought to the end of his strength. The thunder of thewaves upon the shore filled in the long, long silence. 

Minutes crawled away, and still he stood there with his face to thedarkness. At last a voice spoke behind him, and he turned. Daisy hadrisen. 

She stood in the lamplight, quite calm and collected. There was even asmile upon her face, but it was a smile that was sadder than tears. 

"It's been a desperate big fight, hasn't it, Nick?" she said. "But--mydear--you've won. For the sake of my little baby, and for the sake ofthe man I love--yes, and partly for your sake too, "--she held out herhand to him with the words--"I am going back to the prison-house. No, don't speak to me. You have said enough. And, Nick, I must go alone. So I want you, please, to go away, and not to come to me again until Isend for you. I shall send sooner or later. Will you do this?"

Her voice never faltered, but the misery in her eyes cut him to theheart. In that moment he realised how terribly near he had been tolosing the hardest battle he had ever fought. 

He gave her no second glance. Simply, without a word, he stooped andkissed the hand she had given him; then turned and went noiselesslyaway. 

He had won indeed, but the only triumph he knew was the pain of a veryhuman compassion. 

Scarcely five minutes after his departure, Daisy let herself out intothe night that lay like a pall above the moaning shore. She went withlagging feet that often stumbled in the darkness. It was only thememory of a baby's head against her breast that gave her strength. 

CHAPTER XLIII

REQUIESCAT

"I believe I heard a gun in the night, " remarked Mrs. Ratcliffe at thebreakfast-table on the following morning. 

"Shouldn't be surprised, " said Dr. Jim. "I know there was a ship indistress off Calister yesterday. They damaged the lifeboat trying toreach her. But the wind seems to have gone down a little this morning. Do you care for a ride, Muriel?"

Muriel accepted the invitation gladly. She liked accompanying Dr. Jimupon his rounds. She had arranged to leave two days later, a decisionwhich the news of Daisy's presence at Brethaven had not affected. Daisy seemed to have dropped her for good and all, and her pride wouldnot suffer her to inquire the reason. She had, in fact, begun to thinkthat Daisy had merely tired of her, and that being so she was themore willing to go to Mrs. Langdale, whose letters of fussy kindlinessseemed at least to ensure her a cordial welcome. 

She had discussed her troubles no further with Dr. Jim. Grange'sletter had in some fashion placed matters beyond discussion. And soshe had only briefly told him that her engagement was at an end, andhe had gruffly expressed his satisfaction thereat. Her one idea nowwas to escape from Nick's neighbourhood as speedily as possible. Itpossessed her even in her dreams. 

She went with Dr. Jim to the surgery when breakfast was over, and satdown alone in the consulting-room to wait for him. He usually startedon his rounds at ten o'clock, but it wanted a few minutes to thehour and the motor was not yet at the door. She sat listening for it, hoping that no one would appear to detain him. 

The morning was bright, and the wind had fallen considerably. Throughthe window she watched the falling leaves as they eddied in suddendraughts along the road. She looked through a wire screen that gaverather a depressing effect to the sunshine. 

Suddenly from some distance away there came to her the sound of ahorse's hoof-beats, short and hard, galloping over the stones. Itwas a sound that arrested the attention, awaking in her a vague, apprehensive excitement. Almost involuntarily she drew nearer to thewindow, peering above the blind. 

Some seconds elapsed before she caught sight of the headlong horseman, and then abruptly he dashed into sight round a curve in the road. Atthe same instant the gallop became a fast trot, and she saw that therider was gripping the animal with his knees. He had no saddle. 

Amazed and startled, she stood motionless, gazing at the suddenapparition, saw as the pair drew nearer what something within her hadalready told her loudly before her vision served her, and finally drewback with a sharp, instinctive contraction of her whole body as thehorseman reined in before the surgery-door and dismounted with amonkey-like dexterity, his one arm twined in the bridle. A momentlater the surgery-bell pealed loudly, and her heart stood still. Shefelt suddenly sick with a nameless foreboding. 

Standing with bated breath, she heard Dr. Jim himself go to answer thesummons, and an instant later Nick's voice came to her, gasping anduneven, but every word distinct. 

"Ah, there you are! Thought I should catch you. Man, you'rewanted--quick! In heaven's name--lose no time. Grange was drownedearly this morning, and--I believe it's killed Daisy. For mercy'ssake, come at once!"

There was a momentary pause. Muriel's heart was beating in greatsickening throbs. She felt stiff and powerless. 

Dr. Jim's voice, brief and decided, struck through the silence. "Comeinside and have something. I shall be ready to start in three minutes. Leave your animal here. He's dead beat. "

There followed the sound of advancing feet, a hand upon the door, andthe next moment they entered together. Nick was reeling a little andholding Jim's arm. He saw Muriel with a sharp start, standing as shehad turned from the window. The doctor's brows met for an instant ashe put his brother into a chair. He had forgotten Muriel. 

With an effort she overcame the paralysis that bound her, and movedforward with shaking limbs. 

"Did you say Blake was--dead?" she asked, her voice pitched very low. 

She looked at Nick as she asked this question, and it was Nick whoanswered her in his quick, keen way, as though he realised the mercyof brevity. 

"Yes. He and some fisher chaps went out early this morning in anordinary boat to rescue some fellows on a wreck that had drifted onto the rocks outside the harbour. The lifeboat had been damaged, andcouldn't be used. They reached the wreck all right, but there weremore to save than they had reckoned on--more than the boat wouldcarry--and the wreck was being battered to pieces. It was only amatter of seconds for the tide was rising. So they took the lot, andGrange went over the side to make it possible. He hung on to a ropefor a time, but the seas were tremendous, and after a bit it parted. He was washed up two hours ago. He had been in the water since three, among the rocks. There wasn't the smallest chance of bringing himback. He was long past any help we could give. "

He ended abruptly, and helped himself with a jerk to something in aglass that Jim had placed by his side. 

Muriel stood dumbly watching. She noticed with an odd, detached senseof curiosity that he was shivering violently as one with an ague. Dr. Jim was already making swift preparations for departure. 

Suddenly Nick looked up at her. His eyes were glittering strangely. "Iknow now, " he said, "what you women feel like when you can only standand look on. We have been looking on--Daisy and I--just looking on, for six mortal hours. " He banged his fist with a sort of condensedfury upon the table, and leapt to his feet. "Jim, are you ready? Ican't sit still any longer. "

"Finish that stuff, and don't be a fool!" ordered Jim curtly. 

Muriel turned swiftly towards him. "You'll take me with you!" she saidvery earnestly. 

Nick broke in sharply upon the request. "No, no, Muriel! You're not togo. Jim, you can't--you shan't--take her! I won't allow it!"

But Muriel was clinging to Dr. Jim's arm with quivering face upraised. "You will take me, " she entreated. "I was able to help Daisy before. Ican help her now. "

But even before she spoke there flashed a swift glance between the twobrothers that foiled her appeal almost before it was uttered. Witha far greater gentleness than was customary with him, but withunmistakable decision, Dr. Jim refused her petition. 

"I can't take you now, child. But if Daisy should ask for you, orif there is anything under the sun that you can do for her, I willpromise to let you know. "

It was final, but she would not have it so. A sudden gust of angercaught her, anger against the man for whose sake she had one nightshed so many bitter tears, whom now she so fierily hated. She stillclung to Jim. She was shaking all over. 

"What does it matter what Nick says?" she urged pantingly. "Why givein to him at every turn? I won't be left behind--just because hewishes it!"

She would have said more. Her self-control was tottering; but Dr. Jimrestrained her. "My dear, it is not for Nick's sake, " he said. "Come, you are going to be sensible. Sit down and get your breath. There'sno time for hysterics. I must go across and speak to my wife before Igo. "

He looked at Nick who instantly responded. "Yes, you be off! I'll lookafter her. Be quick, man, be quick!"

But when Dr. Jim was gone, his impatience fell away from him. Hemoved round the table and stood before her. He was steady enough now, steadier far than she. 

"Don't take it too hard, " he said. "At least he died like a man. "

She did not draw away from him. There was no room for fear in herheart just then. It held only hatred--a fierce, consuming flame--thatenabled her to face him as she had never faced him before. 

"Why did you let him go?" she demanded of him, her voice deep andpassionate, her eyes unwaveringly upon him. "There must have beenothers. You were there. Why didn't you stop him?"

"I stop him!" said Nick, and a flash of something that was almosthumour crossed his face. "You seem to think I am omnipotent. "

Her eyes continued to challenge him. "You always manage to get yourown way somehow, " she said very bitterly, "by fair means or foul. Areyou going to deny that it was you who made him write that letter?"

He did not ask her what she meant. "No, " he said with a promptitudethat took her by surprise. "I plead guilty to that. As you are aware, I never approved of your engagement. "

His effrontery stung her into what was almost a state of frenzy. Hereyes blazed their utmost scorn. She had never been less afraid of himthan at that moment. She had never hated him more intensely. 

"You could make him do a thing like that, " she said. "And yet youcouldn't hold him back from certain death!"

He answered her without heat, in a tone she deemed most hideouslycallous. "It was not my business to hold him back. He was wanted. There would have been no rescue but for him. They needed a man to leadthem, or they wouldn't have gone at all. "

His composure goaded her beyond all endurance. She scarcely waited forhim to finish, nor was she wholly responsible for what she said. 

"Was there only one man among you, then?" she asked, with headlongcontempt. 

He made her a curious, jerky bow. "One man--yes, " he said. "The restwere mere sheep, with the exception of one--who was a cripple. "

Her heart contracted suddenly with a pain that was physical. She feltas if he had struck her, and it goaded her to a fiercer cruelty. 

"You knew he would never come back!" she declared her voice quiveringuncontrollably with the passion that shook her. "You--you never meanthim to come back!"

He opened his eyes wide for a single instant, and she fancied that shehad touched him. It was the first time in her memory that she had everseen them fully. Instinctively she avoided them, as she would haveavoided a flash of lightning. 

And then he spoke, and she knew at once that her wild accusation hadin no way hurt him. "You think that, do you?" he said, and his tonesounded to her as though he barely repressed a laugh. "Awfully nice ofyou! I wonder what exactly you take me for. "

She did not keep him in suspense on that point. If she had never hadthe strength to tell him before, she could tell him now. 

"I take you for a fiend!" she cried hysterically. "I take you for afiend!"

He turned sharply from her, so sharply that she was conscious of amoment's fear overmastering her madness. But instantly, with his backto her, he spoke, and her brief misgiving was gone. 

"It doesn't matter much now what you take me for, " he said, and againin the cracked notes of his voice she seemed to hear the echo of alaugh. "You won't need to seek any more protectors so far as I amconcerned. You will never see me again unless the gods ordain thatyou should come and find me. It isn't the way of an eagle to swooptwice--particularly an eagle with only one wing. "

The laugh was quite audible now, and she never saw how that one handof his was clenched and pressed against his side. He had reached thedoor while he was speaking. Turning swiftly, he cast one flickering, inscrutable glance towards her, and then with no gesture of farewellwas gone. She heard his receding footsteps die away while shestruggled dumbly to quell the tumult of her heart. 

CHAPTER XLIV

LOVE'S PRISONER

Late that evening a scribbled note reached Muriel from Dr. Jim. 

"You can do nothing whatever, " he wrote. "Daisy is suffering froma sharp attack of brain fever, caused by the shock of her cousin'sdeath, and I think it advisable that no one whom she knows should benear her. You may rest assured that all that can be done for her willbe done. And, Muriel, I think you will be wise to go to Mrs. Langdaleas you originally intended. It will be better for you, as I thinkyou will probably realise. You shall be kept informed of Daisy'scondition, but I do not anticipate any immediate change. "

She was glad of those few words of advice. Her anxiety regardingDaisy notwithstanding, she knew it would be a relief to her to go. Thestrain of many days was telling upon her. She felt herself to be onthe verge of a break-down, and she longed unspeakably to escape. 

She went to her room early on her last night at Weir, but not in orderto rest the longer. She had something to do, something from which sheshrank with a strange reluctance, yet which for her peace of mind shedared not leave neglected. 

It was thus she expressed it to herself as with trembling fingers sheopened the box that contained all her sacred personal treasures. 

It lay beneath them all, wrapped in tissue-paper, as it had passedfrom his hand to hers, and for long she strove to bring herself toslip the tiny packet unopened into an envelope and seal it down--yetcould not. 

At last--it was towards midnight--she yielded to the force thatcompelled. Against her will she unfolded the shielding paper and heldthat which it contained upon the palm of her hand. Burning rubies, red as heart's blood, ardent as flame, flashed and glinted in thelamp-light. "OMNIA VINCIT AMOR"--how the words scorched her memory!And she had wondered once if they were true!

She knew now! She knew now! He had forced her to realise it. He hadcaptured her, had kindled within her--by what magic she knew not--theundying Against her will, in spite of her utmost resistance, he haddone this thing. Above and beyond and through her fiercest hatred, hehad conquered her quivering heart. He had let her go again, but nottill he had blasted her happiness for ever. None other could everdominate her as this man dominated. None other could ever kindle inher--or ever quench--the torch that this man's hand had lighted. 

And this was Love--this hunger that could never be satisfied, thiscraving which would not be stifled or ignored--Love triumphant, invincible, immortal--the thing she had striven to slay at itsbirth, but which had lived on in spite of her, growing, spreading, enveloping, till she was lost, till she was suffocated, in itsimmensity. There could never be any escape for her again. She wasfettered hand and foot. It was useless any longer to strive. She stoodand faced the truth. 

She did not ask herself how it was she had ever come to care. She onlynumbly realised that she had always cared. And she knew now that to nowoman is it given so to hate as she had hated without the spur of Lovegoading her thereto. Ah, but Love was cruel!

Love was merciless! For she had never known--nor ever could knownow--the ecstasy of Love. Truly, it conquered; but it left itsprisoners to perish of starvation in the wilderness. 

A slight sound in the midnight silence! A timid hand softly tryingthe door-handle! She sprang up, dropping the ring upon her table, andturned to see Olga in her nightdress, standing in the doorway. 

"I was awake, " the child explained tremulously. "And I heard youmoving. And I wondered, dear Muriel, if perhaps I could do anything tohelp you. You--you don't mind?"

Muriel opened her arms impulsively. She felt as if Olga had been sentto lighten her darkest hour. 

For a while she held her close, not speaking at all; and it was Olgawho at last broke the silence. 

"Darling, are you crying for Captain Grange?"

She raised her head then to meet the child's gaze of tearful sympathy. 

"I am not crying, dear, " she said. "And--it wouldn't be for him if Iwere. I don't want to cry for him. I just envy him, that's all. "

She leaned her head against Olga's shoulder, rocking a little to andfro with closed eyes. "Yes, " she said at last, "you can help me, Olga, if you will. That ring on the table, dear, --a ring with rubies--do yousee it?"

"Yes, " breathed Olga, holding her very close. 

"Then just take it, dear. " Muriel's voice was unutterably weary; sheseemed to speak with a great effort. "It belongs to Nick. He gave itto me once, long ago, in remembrance of something. I want you to giveit back to him, and tell him simply that I prefer to forget. "

Olga took up the ring. Her lips were trembling. "Aren't you--aren'tyou being nice to Nick any more, Muriel?" she asked in a whisper. 

Muriel did not answer. 

"Not when you promised?" the child urged piteously. 

There was silence. Muriel's face was hidden. Her black hair hung abouther like a cloud, veiling her from her friend's eyes. For a long timeshe said nothing whatever. Then at last without moving she made reply. 

"It's no use, Olga. I can't! I can't! It's not my doing. It's his. Oh, I think my heart is broken!" Through the anguish of weeping thatfollowed, Olga clasped her passionately close, frightened, by anintensity of suffering such as she had never seen before and waspowerless to alleviate. 

She slept with Muriel that night, but, waking in the dawning, justwhen Muriel had sunk to sleep, she crept out of bed and, with Nick'sring grasped tightly in her hand, softly stole away. 

PART V

CHAPTER XLV

THE VISION

A gorgeous sunset lay in dusky, fading crimson upon the Plains, trailing to darkness in the east. The day had been hot and cloudless, but a faint, chill wind had sprung up with the passing of the sun, and it flitted hither and thither like a wandering spirit over thedarkening earth. 

Down in the native quarter a _tom-tom_ throbbed, persistent, exasperating as the voice of conscience. Somewhere in the distance adog barked restlessly, at irregular intervals. And at a point between_tom-tom_ and dog a couple of parrots screeched vociferously. 

Over all, the vast Indian night was rushing down on silent, mysteriouswings. Crimson merged to grey in the telling, and through the fallingdark there shone, detached and wonderful, a single star. 

In the little wooden bungalow over against, the water-works a lighthad been kindled and gleamed out in a red streak across the Plain. Other lights were beginning to flicker also from all points of thecompass, save only where a long strip of jungle lay like a blot uponthe face of the earth. But the red light burned the steadiest of themall. 

It came from the shaded lamp of an Englishman, and beneath it withstubborn, square-jawed determination the Englishman sat at work. 

Very steadily his hand moved over the white paper, and the face thatwas bent above it never varied--a face that still possessed somethingof the freshness of youth though the set of the lips was firm even tosternness and the line of the chin was hard. He never raised his eyesas he worked except to refer to the notebook at his elbow. The passageof time seemed of no moment to him. 

Yet at the soft opening of the door, he did look up for an instant, agleam of expectancy upon his face that died immediately. 

"All right, Sammy, directly, " he said, returning without pause to hiswork. 

Sammy, butler, bearer, and general factotum, irreproachable from hissnowy turban to his white-slippered feet, did not take the hintto retire, but stood motionless just inside the room, waiting withstatuesque patience till his master should deign to bestow upon himthe favour of his full attention. 

After a little Will Musgrave realised this, and with an abrupt sighsat back in his chair and rubbed his hand across his forehead. 

"Well?" he said then. "You needn't trouble to tell me that the mailhas passed, for I heard the fellow half an hour ago. Of course therewere no letters?"

The man shook his head despondingly. "No letters, sahib. "

"Then what do you want?" asked Will, beginning to eye his work again. 

Sammy--so dubbed by Daisy long ago because his own name was too sorea tax upon her memory--sent a look of gleaming entreaty across thelamp-lit space that separated him from his master. 

"The dinner grows cold, sahib, " he observed pathetically. 

Will smiled a little. "All right, my good Sammy. What does it matter?I'm sure if I don't mind, you needn't. And I'm busy just now. "

But the Indian stood his ground. "What will my mem-sahib say to me, "he said, "when she comes and finds that my lord has been starved?"

Will's face changed. It was a very open face, boyishly sincere. He didnot laugh at the earnest question. He only gravely shook his head. 

"The mem-sahib will come, " the man declared, with conviction. "Andwhat will her servant say when she asks him why his master is so thin?She will say, 'Sammy, I left him in your care. What have you done tohim?' And, sahib, what answer can her servant give?"

Will clasped his hands at the back of his head in a careless attitude, but his face was grim. "I don't think you need worry yourself, Sammy, "he said. "I am not expecting the mem-sahib--at present. "

Nevertheless, moved by the man's solicitude, he rose after a momentand laid his work together. He might as well dine, he reflected, assit and argue about it. With a heavy step he passed into the roomwhere dinner awaited him, and sat down at the table. 

No, he was certainly not expecting her at present. He had even of latebegun to ask himself if he expected her at all. It was five months nowsince the news of her severe illness had almost induced him to throweverything aside and go to her. He had only been deterred from thisby a very serious letter from Dr. Jim, strongly advising him to remainwhere he was, since it was highly improbable that he would be allowedto see Daisy for weeks or even months were he at hand, and she wouldmost certainly be in no fit state to return with him to India. Thatletter had been to Will as the passing knell of all he had ever hopedor desired. Definitely it had told him very little, but he wasnot lacking in perception, and he had read a distinct and whollyunmistakable meaning behind the guarded, kindly sentences. And he knewwhen he laid the letter down that in Dr. Jim's opinion his presencemight do incalculable harm. From that day forward he had entertainedno further idea of return, settling down again to his work with adogged patience that was very nearly allied to despair. 

He was undoubtedly a rising man. There were prospects of a speedyimprovement in his position. It was unlikely that he would be calledupon to spend another hot season in the scorching Plains. Steadyperseverance and indubitable talent had made their mark. But successwas dust and ashes to him now. He did not greatly care if he went orstayed. 

That Daisy was well again, or on the high-road to recovery, he knew;but he had not received a single letter from her since her illness. 

Jim's epistles were very few and far between, but Nick had maintaineda fairly regular correspondence with him till a few weeks back when ithad unaccountably lapsed. But then Nick had done unaccountable thingsbefore, and he did not set down his silence to inconstancy. He wasprobably making prodigious efforts on his behalf, and Will awaitedevery mail with an eagerness he could not quite suppress, which turnedinvariably, however, into a sick sense of disappointment. 

That Daisy would ever return to him now he did not for an instantbelieve, but there remained the chance--the slender, infinitesimalchance--that she might ask him to go to her. More than a flying visitshe would know he could not manage. His work was his living, andhers. But so much Nick's powers of persuasion might one day accomplishthough he would not allow himself to contemplate the possibility, while week by week the chance dwindled. 

So he sat alone and unexpectant at his dinner-table that night andmade heroic efforts to pacify the vigilant Sammy whose protest hadwarmed his heart a little if it had not greatly assisted his appetite. 

He was glad when the meal was over, and he could saunter out on tothe verandah with his cigar. The night was splendid with stars; but itheld no moon. The wind had died away, but it had left a certain chillbehind; and somehow he was reminded of a certain evening of earlysummer in England long ago, when he and Daisy had strolled togetherin an English garden, and she had yielded impulsively to his earnestwooing and had promised to be his wife. He remembered still the littlelaugh half sweet, half bitter, with which she had surrendered, thesoft raillery of her blue eyes that yet had not wholly mocked him, thedainty charm of her submission. She had not loved him. He had known iteven then. She had almost told him so. But with a boy's impetuosity hehad taken the little she had to give, trusting to the future to makeher all his own. 

Ah, well! He caught himself sighing, and found that his cigar was out. With something less than his customary self-suppression he pitched itforth into the darkness. He could not even smoke with any enjoyment. He would go indoors and work. 

He swung round on his heel, and started back along the verandahtowards his room from which the red light streamed. Three strides hetook with his eyes upon the ground. Then for no reason that he knew heglanced up towards that bar of light. The next instant he stood stillas one transfixed, and all the blood rushed in tumult to his heart. 

There, motionless in the full glare--watching him, waiting forhim--stood his wife!

CHAPTER XLVI

THE HEART OF A MAN

She did not utter a single word or move to greet him. Even in thatruddy light she was white to the lips. Her hands were fast grippedtogether. She did not seem to breathe. 

So for full thirty seconds they faced one another, speechless, spell-bound, while through the awful silence the cry of a jackalsounded from afar, seeking its meat from God. 

Will was the first to move, feeling for his handkerchief mechanicallyand wiping his forehead. Also he tried to speak aloud, but his voicewas gone. "Pull yourself together, you fool!" he whispered savagely. "She'll be gone again directly. "

She caught the words apparently, for her attitude changed. She partedher straining hands as though by great effort, and moved towards him. 

Out of the glare of the lamplight she looked more normal. She worea grey travelling-dress, but her hat was off. He fancied he saw thesparkle of the starlight in her hair. 

She came towards him a few steps, and then she stopped. "Will, " shesaid, and her voice had a piteous tremble in it, "won't you speak tome? Don't you--don't you know me?"

Her voice awoke him, brought him down from the soaring heights ofimagination as it were with a thud. He strode forward and caught herhands in his. 

"Good heavens, Daisy!" he said. "I thought I was dreaming! How onearth--"

And there he stopped dead, checked in mid career, for she was leaningback from him, leaning back with all her strength that he might notkiss her. 

He stood, still holding her hands, and looked at her. There was acurious, choked sensation at his throat, as if he had swallowed ashes. She had come back to him--she had come back to him indeed, but he hada feeling that she was somehow beyond his reach, further away from himin that moment of incredible reunion than she had ever been during allthe weary months of their separation. This woman with the pale faceand tragic eyes was a total stranger to him. Small wonder that he hadthought himself to be dreaming!

With a furious effort he collected himself. He let her hands slipfrom his. "Come in here, " he said, forcing his dry throat to speech bysheer strength of will. "You should have let me know. "

She went in without a word, and came to a stand before the table thatwas littered with his work. She was agitated, he saw. Her hand waspressed against her heart, and she seemed to breathe with difficulty. 

Instinctively he came to her aid with commonplace phrases--the firstthat occurred to him. "How did you come? But no matter! Tell mepresently. You must have something to eat. You look dead beat. Sitdown, won't--"

And there he stopped again, breaking off short to stare at her. In thelighted room she had turned to face him, and he saw that her hair wasno longer golden but silvery white. 

Seeing his look, she began to speak in hurried, uneven sentences. "Ihave been ill, you know. It--it was brain fever, Jim said. Hair--fairhair particularly--does go like that sometimes. "

"You are well again?" he questioned. 

"Oh, quite--quite. " There was something almost feverish in theassertion; she was facing him with desperate resolution. "I have beenwell for a long time. Please don't send for anything. I dined at thedâk-bungalow an hour ago. I--I thought it best. "

Her agitation was increasing. She panted between each sentence. Willturned aside, shut and bolted the window, and drew the blind. Then hewent close to her; he laid a steady hand upon her. 

"Sit down, " he said, "and tell me what is the matter. "

She sank down mutely. Her mouth was quivering; she sought to hide itfrom him with her hand. 

"Tell me, " he said again, and quietly though he spoke there was in histone a certain mastery that had never asserted itself in the old days;"What is it? Why have you come to me like this?"

"I--haven't come to stay, Will, " she said, her voice so low that itwas barely audible. 

His face changed. He looked suddenly dogged. "After twenty months!" hesaid. 

She bent her head. "I know. It's half a lifetime--more. You havelearnt to do without me by this. At least--I hope you have--for yourown sake. "

He made no comment on the words; perhaps he did not hear them. After abrief silence she heard his voice above her bowed head. "Something iswrong. You'll tell me presently, won't you? But--really you needn't beafraid. "

Something in the words--was it a hint of tenderness?--renewed herfailing strength. She commanded herself and raised her head. Shescarcely recognised in the steady, square-chinned man before herthe impulsive, round-faced boy she had left. There was somethingunfathomable about him, a hint of greatness that affected herstrangely. 

"Yes, " she said. "Something is wrong. It is what I am here for--what Ihave come to tell you. And when it is over, I'm going away--I'm goingaway--out of your life--for ever, this time. "

His jaw hardened, but he said nothing whatever. He stood waiting forher to continue. 

She rose slowly to her feet though she was scarcely capable ofstanding. She had come to the last ounce of her strength, but shespent it bravely. 

"Will, " she said, and though her voice shook uncontrollably every wordwas clear, "I hardly know how to say it. You have always trusted me, always been true to me. I think--once--you almost worshipped me. Butyou'll never worship me any more, because--because--I am unworthy ofyou. Do you understand? I was held back from the final wickedness, or--or I shouldn't be here now. But the sin was there in my heart. Heaven help me, it is there still. There! I have told you. It--wasyour right. I don't ask for mercy or forgiveness. Only punishme--punish me--and then--let me--go!"

Voice and strength failed together. Her limbs doubled under her, and she sank suddenly down at his feet, sobbing--terrible, painful, tearless sobs that seemed to rend her very being. 

Without a word he stooped and lifted her. He was white to the lips, but there was no hesitancy about him. He acted instantly and decidedlyas a man quite sure of himself. 

He carried her to the old _charpoy_ by the window and laid her down. 

Many minutes later, when her anguish had a little spent itself, sherealised that he was kneeling beside her, holding her pressed againsthis heart. Through all the bitter chaos of her misery and her shamethere came to her the touch of his hand upon her head. 

It amazed her--it thrilled her, that touch of his; in a fashion itawed her. She kept her face hidden from him; she could not look up. But he did not seek to see her face. He only kept his hand upon herthrobbing temple till she grew still against his breast. 

Then at length, his voice slow and deep and very steady, he spoke. "Daisy, we will never speak of this again. "

She gave a great start. Pity, even a certain measure of kindness, she had almost begun to expect; but not this--not this! She made amovement to draw herself away from him, but he would not suffer it. Heonly held her closer. 

"Oh, don't, Will, don't!" she implored him brokenly. "For your ownsake--let me go!"

"For my own sake, Daisy, " he answered quietly, --"and for yours, sinceyou have come to me, I will never let you go again. "

"But you can't want me, " she insisted piteously. "Don't be generous, Will. I can't bear it. Anything but that! I would rather you cursedme--indeed--indeed!"

His hand restrained her, silenced her. "Hush!" he said. "You are mywife. I love you, and I want you. "

Tears came to her then with a rush, blinding, burning, overwhelming, and yet their very agony was relief to her. She made no furthereffort to loosen his hold. She even feebly clung to him as one needingsupport. 

"Ah, but I must tell you--I must tell you, " she whispered at last. "If--if you mean to forgive me, you must know--everything. "

"Tell me, if it helps you, " he answered, and he spoke with thesplendid patience that twenty weary months had wrought in him. "Onlybelieve--before you begin--that I have forgiven you. For--beforeGod--it is the truth. "

And so presently, lying in his arms, her face hidden low on hisbreast, she told him all, suppressing nothing, extenuating nothing, simply pouring out the whole bitter story, sometimes halting, sometimes incoherent, but never wavering in her purpose, till, likean evil growth that yet clung about her palpitating heart, her sin laybare before him--the sin of a woman who had almost forgotten that Loveis a holy thing. 

He heard her to the end with scarcely a word, and when she hadfinished he made one comment only. 

"And so you gave him up. "

She shivered with the pain of that memory. "Yes, I gave him up--Igave him up. Nick had made me see the hopelessness of it all--thewickedness. And he--he let me go. He saw it too--at least heunderstood. And on that very night--oh, Will, that awful night--hewent to his death. "

His arms grew closer about her. "My poor girl!" he said. 

"Ah, but you shouldn't!" she sobbed. "You shouldn't! You ought to hateme--to despise me. "

"Hush!" he said again. And she knew that with that one word heresolutely turned his back upon the gulf that had opened between themduring those twenty months--that gulf that his love had been greatenough to bridge--and that he took her with him, bruised and brokenand storm-tossed as she was, into a very sheltered place. 

When presently he turned her face up to his own and gravely kissed hershe clung to his neck like a tired child, no longer fearing to meethis look, only thankful for the comfort of his arms. 

For a while longer he held her silently, then very quietly he beganto question her about her journey. Had she told him that she had beenputting up at the dâk-bungalow?

"Oh, only for a few hours, " she answered. "We arrived this evening, Nick and I. "

"Nick!" he said. "And you left him behind?"

"He is waiting to take me back, " she murmured, her face hidden againsthis shoulder. 

Again, very tenderly, his hand pressed her forehead. "He must come tous, eh, dear? I will sent the _khit_ down with a note presently. Butyou are tired out, and must rest. Lie here while I go and tell Sammyto make ready. "

It was when he came back to her that she began to see wherein lay thechange in him that had so struck her. 

From her cushions she looked up at him, piteously smiling. "How thinyou are, Will! And you are getting quite a scholarly stoop. "

"Ah, that's India, " he said. 

But she knew that it was not India at all, and her face told him so, though he affected not to see it. 

He bent over her. "Now, Daisy, I am going to carry you to bed as Iused--do you remember?--at Simla, after the baby came. Dear littlechap! Do you remember how he used to smile in his sleep?"

His voice was hushed, as though he stood once more beside the tinycot. 

She sat up, yielding herself to his arms. "Oh, Will, " she said, with agreat sob, "if only he had lived!"

He held her closely, and lying against his breast she felt the sigh hestifled. His lips were upon the silvered hair. 

"Perhaps--some day--Daisy, " he said, under his breath. 

And she, clinging to him, whispered back through her tears, "Oh, Will, --I do hope so. "

CHAPTER XLVII

IN THE NAME OF FRIENDSHIP

It was very hot down on the buzzing race-course, almost intolerablyso in the opinion of the girl who sat in Lady Bassett'selegantly-appointed carriage, and looked out with the indifference ofboredom upon the sweltering crowds. 

"Dear child, don't look so freezingly aloof!" she had been entreatedmore than once; and each time the soft injunction had reached her thewide dark eyes had taken to themselves a more utter disdain. 

If she looked freezing, she was far from feeling it, for the hotweather was at its height, and Ghawalkhand, though healthy, was notthe coolest spot in the Indian Empire. Sir Reginald Bassett had beenappointed British Resident, to act as adviser to the young rajahthereof, and there had been no question of a flitting to Simla thatyear. Lady Bassett had deplored this, but Muriel rejoiced. She neverwanted to see Simla again. 

Life was a horrible emptiness to her in those days. She was wearybeyond expression, and had no heart for the gaieties in which she wasplunged. Idle compliments had never attracted her, and flirtationswere an abomination to her. She looked through and beyond them withthe eyes of a sphinx. But there were very few who suspected theintolerable ache that throbbed unceasingly behind her impassivity--theloneliness of spirit that oppressed her like a crushing, physicalweight. 

Even Bobby Fraser, who saw most things, could scarcely have been awareof this; yet certainly it was not the vivacity of her conversationthat induced him to seek her out as he generally did when he sawher sitting apart. A very cheery bachelor was Bobby Fraser, and atremendous favourite wherever he went. He was a wonderful organizer, and he invariably had a hand in anything of an entertaining naturethat was going forward. 

He had just brought her tea, and was waiting beside her while shedrank it. Lady Bassett had left the carriage for the paddock, andMuriel sat alone. 

Had she had anything on the last race, he wanted to know? Muriel hadnot. He had, and was practically ruined in consequence--a calamitywhich in no way seemed to affect his spirits. 

"Who would have expected a rank outsider like that to walk over thecourse? Ought to have been disqualified for sheer cheek. Reminds meof a chap I once knew--forget his name--Nick something or other--whoentered at the last minute for the Great Mogul's Cup at Sharapura. Didit for a bet, they said. It's years ago now. The horse was a perfectbrute--all bone and no flesh--with a temper like the foul fiend andno points whatever--looked a regular crock at starting. But he rompedhome on three legs, notwithstanding, with his jockey clinging to himlike an inspired monkey. It was the only race he ever won. Every oneput it down to black magic or personal magnetism on the part of hisrider. Same thing, I believe. He was the sort of chap who always comesout on top. Rum thing I can't remember his name. I had travelled outwith him on the same boat once too. Have some more tea. "

This was a specimen of most of Bobby Fraser's conversation. He wasbrimful of anecdotes. They flowed as easily as water from a fountain. Their source seemed inexhaustible. He never repeated himself to thesame person. 

Muriel declined his offer of more tea. For some reason she wanted tohear more of the man who had won the Great Mogul's Cup at Sharapura. 

Bobby was more than willing to oblige. "Oh, it was sheer cheek thatcarried him through, of course. I always said he was the cheekiestbeggar under the sun--quite a little chap he was, hideously ugly, with a face like a baked apple, and eyes that made you think of acinematograph. You know the sort of thing. I used to think he had afuture before him, but he seems to have dropped out. He was onlyabout twenty when I had him for a stable-companion. I remember oneoutrageous thing he did on the voyage out. There was card-playinggoing on in the saloon one night, and he was looking on. One of thelady-players--well, I suppose I may as well call it by its name--oneof them cheated. He detected it. Beastly position, of course. Don'tknow what I should have done under the circumstances, but anyhow hewasn't at a loss. He simply lighted a cigarette and set fire to thelady's dress. "

Muriel's exclamation of horror was ample testimony to the fact thather keenest interest was aroused. 

"Yes, awfully risky, wasn't it?" said Bobby. "We only thought at thetime he had been abominably careless. I did not hear the rights of thecase till afterwards, and then not from him. There was a fine flareup, of course--card-table overturned--ladies in hysterics--in the middleof the fray our gallant hero extinguishing the flames with his barehands. He was profusely apologetic and rather badly scorched. The ladytook very little harm, except to her nerves and her temper. She cuthim dead for the rest of the voyage, but I don't think it depressedhim much. He was the sort of fellow that never gets depressed. Hullo!There's Mrs. Philpot making violent signs. I suppose I had better goand see what she wants, or be dropped for evermore. Good-bye!"

He smiled upon her and departed, leaving her thoughtful, with acertain wistful wonder in her eyes. 

Lady Bassett's return interrupted her reverie. "You have had some tea, I hope, dear? Ah, I thought Mr. Bobby Fraser was making his way inthis direction. So sweet of him not to forget you when he has so manyother calls upon his attention. And how are you faring for to-night?Is your programme full yet? I have literally not one dance left. "

Lady Bassett had deemed it advisable to ignore the fact of Muriel'sbrief engagement to Captain Grange since the girl's return to India. She knew, as did her husband, that it had come to an end beforeGrange's death, but she withheld all comment upon it. Her one desirewas to get the dear child married without delay, and she wasnot backward in letting her know it. Life at Ghawalkhand was onecontinuous round of gaiety, and she had every opportunity forforwarding her scheme. Though she deplored Muriel's unresponsiveness, she yet did not despair. It was sheer affectation on the girl's part, she would tell herself, and would soon pass. And after all, thatqueenly, aloof air had a charm that was all its own. It might notattract the many, but she had begun to fancy of late that Bobby Fraserhad felt its influence. He was not in the least the sort of manshe would have expected to do so, but there was no accounting fortaste--masculine taste especially. And it would be an excellent thingfor Muriel. 

She was therefore being particularly gracious to her young charge justthen--a state of affairs which Muriel endured rather than appreciated. She would never feel at her ease with Lady Bassett as long as shelived. 

She was glad when they drove away at length, for she wanted to bealone. Those anecdotes of Bobby's had affected her strangely. She hadfelt so completely cut off of late from all things connected with thepast. No one ever mentioned Nick to her now--not even her faithfulcorrespondent Olga. Meteor-like, he had flashed through her sky anddisappeared; leaving a burning, ineradicable trail behind him, it istrue, but none the less was he gone. She had not the faintest ideawhere he was. She would have given all she had to know, yet could notbring herself to ask. It seemed highly improbable that he would evercross her path again, and she knew she ought to be glad of this; yetno gladness ever warmed her heart. And now here was a man who hadknown him, who had told her of exploits new to her knowledge yet howstrangely familiar to her understanding, who had at a touch broughtbefore her the weird personality that her imagination sometimesstrove in vain to summon. She could have sat and listened to Bobby'sreminiscences for hours. The bare mention of Nick's name had made herblood run faster. 

Lady Bassett did not trouble her to converse during the drive back, ascribing to her evident desire for silence a reason which Muriel wastoo absent to suspect. But when the girl roused herself to throw acouple of annas to an old beggar who was crouched against the entranceto the Residency grounds she could not resist giving utterance to agentle expostulation. 

"I wish you would not encourage these people, dearest. They are soextremely undesirable, and there is so much unrest in the State justnow that I cannot but regard them with anxiety. "

Muriel murmured an apology, with the inward reservation to bestow heralms next time when Lady Bassett was not looking on. 

She found a letter lying on her table when she entered her room, and took it up listlessly, without much interest. Her mind wasstill running on those two anecdotes with which Bobby Fraser had sosuccessfully enlivened her boredom. The writing on the envelope wasvaguely familiar to her, but she did not associate it with anythingof importance. Absently she opened it, half reluctant to recall herwandering thoughts. It came from a Hill station in Bengal, but thattold her nothing. She turned to the signature. 

The next instant she had turned back again to the beginning, and wasreading eagerly. Her correspondent was Will Musgrave. 

 "Dear Miss Roscoe, "--ran the letter. "After long consideration I have decided to write and beg of you a favour which I fancy you will grant more readily than I venture to ask. My wife, as you probably know, joined me some months ago. She is in very indifferent health, and has expressed a most earnest wish to see you. I believe there is something which she wishes to tell you--something that weighs upon her heavily; and though I trust that all will go well with her, I cannot help feeling that she would stand a much better chance of this if only her mind could be set at rest. I know I am asking a big thing of you, for the journey is a ghastly one at this time of the year, but if of your goodness you can bring yourself to face it, I will myself meet you and escort you across the Plains. Will you think the matter carefully over? And perhaps you would wire a reply. 

 "I have written without Daisy's knowledge, as she seems to feel that she has forfeited the right to your friendship. --Sincerely yours, "W. MUSGRAVE. "

Muriel's reply was despatched that evening, almost before she hadfully read the appeal. 

"Starting to-morrow, " was all she said. 

CHAPTER XLVIII

THE HEALING OF THE BREACH

Lady Bassett considered the decision deplorably headlong, and saidso; but her remonstrances were of no avail. Muriel tossed aside herlistlessness as resolutely as the ball-dress that had been laid outfor the evening's festivity, and plunged at once into preparations forher journey. She knew full well that it was of no actual importanceto Lady Bassett whether she went or stayed, and she did not pretend tothink otherwise. Moreover, no power on earth would have kept her awayfrom Daisy now that she knew herself to be wanted. 

Though more than half of the three days' journey lay across thesweltering Plains, she contemplated it without anxiety, even withrejoicing. At last, the breach, over which she had secretly mourned sodeeply, was to be healed. 

The next morning at an early hour she was upon her way. She lookedout as she drove through the gates for the old native beggar who hadcrouched at the entrance on the previous afternoon. He was not there, but a little way further she met him hobbling along to take up hispost for the day. From the folds of his chuddah his unkempt beardwagged entreaty at the carriage as it passed. Impulsively, because ofthe gladness that was so new to her lonely heart, she leaned from thewindow and threw him a rupee. 

Looking back upon the journey later, she never remembered its tedium. She was as one borne on the wings of love, and she scarcely noticedthe hardships of the way. 

Will Musgrave met her according to his promise at the great junctionin the Plains. She found him exceedingly solicitous for her welfare, but so grave and silent that she hardly liked to question him. Hethanked her very earnestly for coming, said that Daisy was about thesame, and then left her almost exclusively to the society of her ayah. 

The heat in the Plains was terrific, but Muriel's courage neverwavered. She endured it with unfaltering resolution, hour after hourreckoning the dwindling miles that lay before them, passing overall personal discomfort as of no account, content only to be goingforward. 

But they left the Plains behind at last, and then came to the welcomeascent to the Hill station through a country where pine-trees grewever more and more abundant. 

At length at the close of a splendid day they reached it, and as theywere nearing their destination Will broke through his silence. 

"She doesn't know even yet that you are coming, " he said. "I thoughtthe suspense of waiting for you might be bad for her. Miss Roscoe--inheaven's name--make her happy if you can!"

There was such a passion of entreaty in his voice that Muriel wasdeeply touched. She gave him her hand impulsively. 

"Mr. Musgrave, " she said, "to this day I do not know what it was thatcame between us, but I promise--I promise--that if any effort of minecan remove it, it shall be removed to-night. "

Will Musgrave squeezed her fingers hard. "God bless you!" he saidearnestly. 

And with that he left her, and went on ahead to prepare Daisy for hercoming. 

All her life Muriel remembered Daisy's welcome of that evening witha thrill of pain. They met at the gate of the little compound thatsurrounded the bungalow Will had taken for his wife, and though thelight of the sinking sun smote with a certain ruddiness upon Daisy, Muriel was unspeakably shocked by her appearance. 

Her white hair, her deathly pallor, the haunting misery of hereyes--above all, her silence--went straight to the girl's heart. Without a single word she gathered Daisy close in her warm young armsand so held her in a long and speechless embrace. 

After all, it was Daisy who spoke first, gently drawing herself away. "Come in, darling! You must be nearly dead after your awful journey. I can't think how Will could ask it of you at this time of the year. Icouldn't myself. "

"I would have come to you from the world's end--and gladly, " Murielanswered, in her deep voice. "You know I would. "

And that was all that passed between them, for Will was present, andDaisy had already begun to lead her guest into the house. 

As the evening wore on, Muriel was more and more struck by the greatchange she saw in her. They had not met for ten months, but twiceas many years seemed to have passed over Daisy, crushing her beneaththeir weight. All her old sprightliness had vanished utterly. Shespoke but little, and there was in her manner to her husband a wistfulhumility, a submission so absolute, that Muriel, remembering herancient spirit, could have wept. 

Will looked at her as if he longed to say something when she bade himgood-night, but Daisy was beside her, and he could only give her atremendous handgrip. 

They went away together, and Daisy accompanied her to her room. Butthe wall of reserve that had been built up between them was not to beshattered at a touch. Neither of them knew exactly how to approachit. There was no awkwardness between them, there was no lack oftenderness, but the door that had closed so long ago was hard toopen. Daisy seemed to avoid it with a morbid dread, and it was not inMuriel's power to make the first move. 

So for awhile they lingered together, talking commonplaces, and atlength parted for the night, holding each other closely, withoutwords. 

It seemed evident that Daisy could not bring herself to speak atpresent, and Muriel went to bed with a heavy heart. 

She was far too weary to lie awake, but her tired brain would notrest. For the first time in many dreary months she dreamed of Nick. 

He was jeering at her in devilish jubilation because she had changedher mind about marrying him, but lacked the courage to tell him so. 

CHAPTER XLIX

THE LOWERING OF THE FLAG

The night was very far advanced when Muriel was aroused from herdreams by a sound which she drowsily fancied must have been going onfor some time. It did not disturb her very seriously at first; sheeven subconsciously made an effort to ignore it. But at length asudden stab of understanding pierced her sleep-laden senses, and in amoment she started up broad awake. Some one was in the room with her. Through the dumb stillness before the dawn there came the sound ofbitter weeping. 

For a few seconds she sat motionless, startled, bewildered, halfafraid. The room was in nearly total darkness. Only in dimmestoutline could she discern the long French window that opened upon theverandah. 

The weeping continued. It was half smothered, but it sounded agonised. A great wave of compassion swept suddenly over Muriel. All in a momentshe understood. 

Swiftly she leaned forward into the darkness, feeling outwards tillher groping hands touched a figure that crouched beside the bed. 

"Daisy! Daisy, my darling!" she said, and there was anguish in her ownvoice. "What is it?"

In a second the sobbing ceased as if some magic had silenced it. Two hands reached up out of the darkness and tightly clasped hers. Abroken voice whispered her name. 

"What is it?" Muriel repeated in growing distress. 

"Hush, dear, hush!" the trembling voice implored. "Don't let Willhear! It worries him so. "

"But, my darling, --" Muriel protested. 

She began to feel for some matches, but again the nervous hands caughtand imprisoned hers. 

"Don't--please!" Daisy begged her earnestly. "I--I have something totell you--something that will shock you unutterably. And I--I don'twant you to see my face. "

She resisted Muriel's attempt to put her arms about her. "No--no, dear! Hear me first. There! Let me kneel beside you. It will nottake me long. It isn't just for my own sake I am going to speak, nor yet--entirely--for yours. You will see presently. Don't ask meanything--please--till I have done. And then if--if there is anythingyou want to know, I will try to tell you. "

"Come and lie beside me, " Muriel urged. 

But Daisy would not. She had sunk very low beside the bed. For a whileshe crouched there in silence while she summoned her strength. 

Then, "Oh, Muriel, " she suddenly said, and the words seemed to burstfrom her with a great sigh, "I wonder if you ever really loved Blake. "

"No, dear, I never did. " Muriel's answer came quiet and sincerethrough the darkness. "Nor did he love me. Our engagement was amistake. I was going to tell him so--if things had been different. "

"I never thought you cared for him, " Daisy said. "But oh, Muriel, I did. I loved him with my whole soul. No, don't start! It is overnow--at least that part of it that was sinful. I only tell you ofit because it is the key to everything that must have puzzled youso horribly all this time. We always loved each other from the verybeginning, but our people wouldn't hear of it because we were cousins. And so we separated and I used to think that I had put it away fromme. But--last summer--it all came back. You mustn't blame him, Muriel. Blame me--blame me!" The thin hands tightened convulsively. "It waswhen my baby died that I began to give way. We never meant it--eitherof us--but we didn't fight hard enough. And then at last--atBrethaven--Nick found it out; and it was because he knew that Blake'sheart was not in his compact with you that he made him write to youand break it off. It was not for his own ends at all that he did it. It was for your sake alone. He even swore to Blake that if he wouldput an end to his engagement, he on his part would give up all ideaof winning you and would never trouble you any more. And that was thefinest thing he ever did, Muriel, for he never loved any one but you. Surely you know it. You must know it by this time. You have neverunderstood him, but you must have begun to realise that he has lovedyou well enough to set your happiness and well-being always far, farbefore his own. "

Daisy paused. Her weeping had wholly ceased, but she was shiveringfrom head to foot. 

Muriel sat in silence above her, watching wide-eyed, unseeing, the vague hint of light at the open window. She was beginning tounderstand many things--ah, many things--that had been as a sealedbook to her till then. 

After a time Daisy went on. "No one will ever know what Nick was to meat that time, how he showed me the wickedness of it all, how he heldme back from taking the final step, making me realise--even againstmy will--that Love--true Love--is holy, conquering all evil. Andafterwards--afterwards--when Blake was gone--he stood by me and helpedme to live, and brought me back at last to my husband. I could neverhave done it alone. I hadn't the strength. You see"--the low voicefaltered suddenly--"I never expected Will to forgive me. I never askedit of him--any more than I am asking it of you. "

"Oh, my darling, there is no need!" Muriel turned suddenly to throwimpetuous arms about the huddled figure at her side. "Daisy! Daisy! Ilove you. Let us forget there has ever been this thing between us. Letus be as we used to be, and never drift apart again. "

Tenderly but insistently, she lifted Daisy to the bed beside her, holding her fast. The wall between them was broken down at last. Theyclung together as sisters long parted. 

Daisy, spent by the violence of her emotion, lay for a long time inMuriel's arms without attempting anything further. But at length witha palpable effort she began to speak of other things. 

"You know, I have a feeling--perhaps it is morbid--that I am not goingto live. I am sure Will thinks so too. If I die, Muriel, --three monthsfrom now--you and Nick must help him all you can. "

"You are not going to die, " Muriel asserted vehemently. "You are notto talk of dying, or think of it. Oh, Daisy, can't you look forward tothe better time that is coming--when you will have something to livefor? And won't you try to think more of Will? It would break his heartto lose you. "

"I do think of him, " Daisy said wearily. "I would do anything to makehim happier. But I can't look forward. I am so tired--so tired. "

"You will feel differently by-and-by, " Muriel whispered. 

"Perhaps, " she assented. "I don't know. I don't feel as if I shallever hold another child in my arms. God knows I don't deserve it. "

"Do you think He looks at it in that way?" murmured Muriel, her armstightening. "There wouldn't be much in life for any of us if He did. "

"I don't know, " Daisy said again. 

She lay quiet for a little as though pondering something. Then atlength hesitatingly she spoke. "Muriel, there is one thing thatwhether I live or whether I die I want with my whole heart. May I tellyou what it is?"

"Of course, dear. What is it?"

Daisy turned in her arms, holding her in a clasp that was passionate. "My darling, " she whispered very earnestly, "I would give all I havein the world to know you happy with--with the man you love. "

Silence followed the words. Muriel had become suddenly quite still;her head was bent. 

"Don't--don't bar me out of your confidence, " Daisy imploredher tremulously. "There is so little left for me to do now. Muriel--dearest--you do love him?"

Muriel moved impulsively, hiding her face in her friend's neck. Butshe said no word in answer. 

Daisy went on softly, as though she had spoken. "He is still waitingfor you. I think he will wait all his life, though he will never cometo you again unless you call him. Won't you--can't you--send him justone little word?"

"How can I?" The words broke suddenly from Muriel as though she couldno longer restrain them. "How can I possibly?"

"It could be done, " Daisy said. "I know he is still somewhere in Indiathough he has left the Army. We could get a message to him at anytime. "

"Oh, but I couldn't--I couldn't!" Muriel had begun to trembleviolently. There was a sound of tears in her deep voice. "Besides--hewouldn't come. "

"My dear, he would, " Daisy assured her. "He would come to you directlyif he only knew that you wanted him. Muriel, surely you are not--nottoo proud to let him know!"

"Proud! Oh, no, no!" There was almost a moan in the words. Muriel'shead sank a little lower. "Heaven knows I'm not proud, " she said. "I am ashamed--miserably ashamed. I have trampled on his love sooften--so often. How could I ask him for it--now?"

"Ah, but if he came to you, " Daisy persisted, "if in spite of all hecame to you, you wouldn't send him away?"

"Send him away!" A sudden note of passion thrilled in Muriel's voice. She lifted her head sharply. With the tears upon her cheeks she yetspoke with a certain exultation. "I--I would follow him barefootacross the world, " she said, "if--if he would only lift one fingerto call me. But oh, Daisy, "--her confidence vanished at abreath--"where's the use of talking? He never, never will. "

"He will if you let him know, " Daisy answered with conviction. "Don'tyou think you can, dear? Give me just one word for him--one tinymessage that he will understand. Only trust him this once--just thisonce! Give him his opportunity--he has never had one before, poorboy--and I know, I know, he will not throw it away. "

"You don't think he will--laugh?" Muriel whispered. 

"My dear child, no! Nick doesn't laugh at sacred things. "

Muriel's face was burning in the darkness. She covered it with herhands as though it could be seen. 

For a few seconds she sat very still. Then slowly but steadily shespoke. 

"Tell him then, Daisy, from me, that 'Love conquers all things--and wemust yield to Love. '"

CHAPTER L

EREBUS

Not another word passed between Daisy and Muriel upon the subject ofthat night's confidences. There seemed nothing further to be said. Moreover, there was between them a closer understanding than wordscould compass. 

The days that followed passed very peacefully, and Daisy began toimprove so marvellously in health and spirits that both herhusband and her guest caught at times fleeting glimpses of the oldlight-hearted personality that they had loved in earlier days. 

"You have done wonders for my wife, " Will said one day to Muriel. Andthough she disclaimed all credit, she could not fail to see a verymarked improvement. 

She herself was feeling unaccountably happy in those days, as thoughsomewhere deep down in her heart a bird had begun to sing. Again andagain she told herself that she had no cause for gladness; but againand yet again that sweet, elusive music filled her soul. 

She would have gladly stayed on with Daisy, seeing how the latterclung to her, for an indefinite period; but this was not to be. 

Daisy came out on to the verandah one morning with a letter in herhand. 

"My dear, " she said, "I regret to say that, I must part with you. I have had a most touching epistle from Lady Bassett, describing atlength your many wasted opportunities, and urging me to return you tothe fold with all speed. It seems there is to be a State Ball at thepalace--an immense affair to which the Rajah is inviting all the bigguns for miles around--and Lady Bassett thinks that her dear childought not to miss such a gorgeous occasion. She seems to think thatsomething of importance depends upon it, and hints that I should bealmost criminally selfish to deprive you of such a treat as this willbe. "

Muriel lifted a flushed face from a letter of her own. "I have heardfrom Sir Reginald, " she said. "Evidently she has made him write. Ican't think why, for she never wants me when I am with her. I don'tsee why I should go, do you? After all, I am of age and independent. "

A very tender smile touched Daisy's lips. "I think you had better go, darling, " she said. 

Muriel opened her eyes wide. "But why--"

Daisy checked the question half uttered. "I think it will be betterfor you. I never meant to let you stay till the rains, so it makeslittle more than a week's difference. It sounds as if I want to berid of you, doesn't it? But you know it isn't that. I shall miss youhorribly, but you have done what you came to do, and I shall get onall right now. So I am not going to keep you with me any longer. Myreasons are not Lady Bassett's reasons, but all the same it would beselfish of me to let you stay. Later on perhaps--in the winter--youwill come and make a long stay; spend Christmas with us, and we willhave some real fun, shall we, Will?" turning to her husband who hadjust appeared. 

He stared for an instant as if he thought he had not heard aright, andthere was to Muriel something infinitely pathetic in the way his brownhand touched his wife's shoulder as he passed her and made reply. 

"Oh, rather!" he said. "We'll have a regular jollification with asmany old friends as we can collect. Don't forget, Miss Roscoe! You arebooked first and foremost, and we shall keep you to it, Daisy and I. "

Two days later Muriel was on her way back to Ghawalkhand. She foundthe heat of the journey almost insupportable. The Plains lay under aburning pall of cloud, and at night the rolling thunder was incessant. But no rain fell to ease the smothering oppression of the atmosphere. 

She almost fainted one evening, but Will was with her and she neverforgot his kindly ministrations. 

A few hours' journey from Ghawalkhand Sir Reginald himself met her, and here she parted with Will with renewed promises of a futuremeeting towards the end of the year. 

Sir Reginald fussed over her kind-heartedly, hoped she had enjoyedherself, thought she looked very thin, and declared that his wife waslooking forward with much pleasure to her return. The State wasstill somewhat unsettled, there had been one or two outrages of late, nothing serious, of course, but the native element was restless, andhe fancied Lady Bassett was nervous. 

She was away at a polo-match when they arrived, and Muriel profited byher absence and went straight to bed. 

She could have slept for hours had she been permitted to do so, butLady Bassett, returning, awoke her to receive her welcome. She wascharmed to have her back, she declared, though shocked to see herlooking so wan, "so almost plain, dear child, if one may take theliberty of an old friend to tell you so. "

Neither the crooked smile that accompanied this gentle criticismnor the decidedly grim laugh with which it was received, was of aparticularly friendly nature; but these facts were not extraordinary. There had never been the smallest hint of sympathy between them. 

"I trust you will be looking much better than this two nights hence, "Lady Bassett proceeded in her soft accents. "The Rajah's ball is tobe very magnificent, quite dazzlingly so from all accounts. Mr. Bobby Fraser is of course behind the scenes, and he tells me that thepreparations in progress are simply gigantic. By the way, dear, it isto be hoped that your absence has not damaged your prospects inthat quarter. I have been afraid lately that he was transferring hisallegiance to the second Egerton girl. I hope earnestly that there isnothing in it, for you know how I have your happiness at heart, do younot? And it would be such an excellent thing for you, dear child, asI expect you realise. For you know, you look so much older thanyou actually are that you really ought not to throw away any moreopportunities. Every girl thinks she must have her fling, but you, dear, should soberly think of getting settled soon. You would not liketo get left, I feel sure. "

At this point Muriel sat up suddenly, her dark eyes very bright, andin brief tones announced that so far as she was concerned the secondEgerton girl was more than welcome to Mr. Fraser and she hoped, if shewanted him, she would manage to keep him. 

It was crudely expressed, as Lady Bassett pointed out with a sigh forher waywardness; but Muriel always was crude when her deeper feelingswere disturbed, and physical fatigue had made her irritable. 

She wished ardently that Lady Bassett would leave her, but LadyBassett had not quite done. She lingered to ask for news of poorlittle Daisy Musgrave. Had she yet fully recovered from the shock ofher cousin's tragic death? Could she bear to speak of him? She, Lady Bassett, had always suspected the existence of an unfortunateattachment between them. 

Muriel had no information to bestow upon the subject. She hoped andbelieved that Daisy was getting stronger, and had promised, all beingwell, to spend Christmas with her. 

Lady Bassett shook her head over this declaration. The dear childwas so headlong. Much might happen before Christmas. And what ofMr. Ratcliffe--this was on her way to the door--had she heard theextraordinary, the really astounding news concerning him that had justreached Lady Bassett's ears? She asked because he and Mrs. Musgraveused to be such friends, though to be sure Mr. Ratcliffe seemed tohave thrown off all his old friends of late. Had Muriel actually notheard?

"Heard! Heard what?" Muriel forced out the question from betweenlips that were white and stiff. She was suddenly afraid--horribly, unspeakably afraid. But she kept her eyes unflinchingly upon LadyBassett's face. She would sooner die than quail in her presence. 

Lady Bassett, holding the door-handle, looked back at her, faintlysmiling. "I wonder you have not heard, dear. I thought you were incorrespondence with his people. But perhaps they also are in the dark. It is a most unheard-of thing--quite irrevocable I am told. But Ialways felt that he was a man to do unusual things. There was alwaysto my mind something uncanny, abnormal, something almost superhuman, about him. "

"But what has happened to him?" Muriel did not know how she utteredthe words; they seemed to come without her own volition. She wasconscious of a choking sensation within her as though iron bandswere tightening about her heart. It beat in leaps and bounds like atortured thing striving to escape. But through it all she sat quitemotionless, her eyes fixed upon Lady Bassett's face, noting its faint, wry smile, as the eyes of a prisoner on the rack might note the grimlines on the face of the torturer. 

"My dear, " Lady Bassett said, "he has gone into a Buddhist monasteryin Tibet. "

Calmly the words fell through smiling lips. Only words! Only words!But with how deadly a thrust they pierced the heart of the womanwho heard them none but herself would ever know. She gave no sign ofsuffering. She only stared wide-eyed before her as an image, devoid ofexpression, inanimate, sphinx-like, while that awful constriction grewstraiter round her heart. 

Lady Bassett was already turning to go when the deep voice arrestedher. 

"Who told you this?"

She looked back, holding the open door. "I scarcely know who firstmentioned it. I have heard it from so many people, --in fact the newsis general property--Captain Gresham of the Guides told me for one. Hehas just gone back to Peshawur. The news reached him, I believe, fromthere. Then there was Colonel Cathcart for another. He was talking ofit only this afternoon at the Club, saying what a deplorable exampleit was for an Englishman to set. He and Mr. Bobby Fraser had quite ahot argument about it. Mr. Fraser has such advanced ideas, but I mustadmit that I rather admire the staunch way in which he defends them. There, dear child! You must not keep me gossiping any longer. You lookpositively haggard. I earnestly hope a good sleep will restore you, for I cannot possibly take that wan face to the Rajah's ball'. "

Lady Bassett departed with the words, shaking her head tolerantly andstill smiling. 

But for long after she had gone, Muriel remained with fixed eyes andtense muscles, watching, watching, dumbly, immovably, despairingly, atthe locked door of her paradise. 

So this was the key to his silence--the reason that her message hadgone unanswered. She had stretched out her hands to him too late--toolate. 

And ever through the barren desert of her vigil a man's voice, vitaland passionate, rang and echoed in a maddening, perpetual refrain. 

"All your life you will remember that I was once yours to take or tothrow away. And--you wanted me, yet--you chose to throw me away. "

It was a refrain she had heard often and often before; but it hadnever tortured her as it tortured her now, --now when her last hope wasfinally quenched--now when at last she fully realised what it was thathad once been hers, and that in her tragic blindness she had wantonlycast away. 

CHAPTER LI

THE BIRD OF PARADISE

Muriel did not leave the Residency again until the evening of theState Ball at the palace. Scarcely did she leave her room, pleadingintense fatigue as her excuse for this seclusion. But she could notwithout exciting remark, absent herself from the great function forwhich ostensibly she had returned to Ghawalkhand. 

She wore a dress of unrelieved white for the occasion, for she hadbut recently discarded her mourning for her father, and her face wasalmost as devoid of colour. Her dark hair lay in a shadowy mass aboveher forehead, accentuating her pallor. Her eyes looked out upon theworld with tragic indifference, unexpectant, apathetic. 

"My dear, you don't look well, " said Sir Reginald, as, gorgeous inhis glittering uniform, he stood to hand her after his wife into thecarriage. 

She smiled a little. "It is nothing. I am still rather tired, that'sall. "

Driving through the gates she looked forth absently and spied the oldbeggar crouching in his accustomed place. He almost prostrated himselfat sight of her, but she had no money with her, nor could she havebestowed any under Lady Bassett's disapproving eye. The carriagerolled on, leaving his obsequiousness unrequited. 

Entering the glittering ballroom all hung with glowing colours waslike entering a garden of splendid flowers. European and Indiancostumes were mingled in shining confusion. A hubbub of music andlaughter seemed to engulf them like a rushing torrent. 

"Ah, here you are at last!" It was Bobby Fraser's voice at Muriel'sside. He looked at her with cheery approval. "I say, you know, you'rethe queen of this gathering. Pity there isn't a king anywhere about. Perhaps there is, eh? Well, can you give me a dance? Afraid I haven'ta waltz left. No matter! We can sit out. I know a cosy corner exactlyfitted to my tastes. In fact I've booked it for the evening. And Iwant a talk with you badly. Number five then. Good-bye!"

He was gone, leaving Muriel with the curious impression that therereally was something of importance that he wished to say to her. 

She wondered what it was. That he was paying her serious attention shehad never for a moment believed, nor had she given him the faintestencouragement to do so. She knew that Lady Bassett thought otherwise, but she had never rated her opinion very highly; and she had neverread anything but the most casual friendliness in Bobby's attitude. 

Still it disturbed her somewhat, that hint of intimacy that his wordsportended, and she awaited the dance he had solicited in a state ofmind very nearly allied to apprehension. Lady Bassett's suggestionshad done for her what no self-consciousness would ever haveaccomplished unaided. They had implanted within her a deep-rootedmisgiving before which all ease of manner fled. 

When Bobby Fraser joined her, she was so plainly nervous that he couldnot fail to remark it. He led her to a quiet corner above the gardenthat was sheltered from the throng by flowering tamarisks. 

"I say, " he said, "I hope you are not letting yourself get scaredby these infernal budmashes. The reports have all been immenselyexaggerated as usual. "

"I am not at all scared, " she told him. "But wasn't there anEnglishman murdered the other day?"

"Oh, yes, " he admitted, "but miles and miles away, right the otherside of the State. There was nothing in that to alarm any one here. It might have happened anywhere. People are such fools, " he threw invindictively. "Begin to look askance at the native population, andof course they are on the _qui vive_ instantly. It is only to beexpected. It was downright madness to send a Resident here. Theyresent it, you know. But the Rajah's influence is enormous. Nothingcould happen here. "

"I wonder, " said Muriel. 

She had scarcely given the matter a thought before, but it was arelief to find some impersonal topic for discussion. 

Bobby, however, had no intention of pursuing it further. "Oh, it'sself-evident, " he said. "They are loyal to the Rajah, and the Rajahis well-known to be loyal to the Crown. It's only these duffers ofadministrators that make the mischief. " He broke into an abrupt laugh, and changed the subject. "Let us talk of something less exasperating. How did you get on while you were away? You must have found thejourney across the Plains pretty ghastly. "

She told him a little about it, incidentally mentioning Will Musgrave. 

"Oh, I know him, " he broke in. "An engineer, isn't he? Awfully cleverchap. I met him years ago at Sharapura the time Nick Ratcliffe won theGreat Mogul's Cup. I told you that story, didn't I?"

Yes, he had done so. She informed him of the fact with an immovableface. It might have been a subject of total indifference to her. 

"You know Nick Ratcliffe, don't you?" he pursued, evidently followinghis own train of thought. 

She flushed at the direct question. She had not expected it. "It isa very long time since I last saw him, " she said, with a deliberateeffort to banish all interest from her voice. 

He was not looking at her. He could not have been aware of the flush. Yet he elected to push the matter further. 

"A queer fish, " he said. "A very queer fish. He has lost his left arm, poor beggar. Did you know?"

Yes, she knew; but she could hardly summon the strength to tell himso. Her fan concealed her quivering lips, but the hand that held itshook uncontrollably. 

But he, still casual, continued his desultory harangue. "Alwaysreminds one of a jack-in-the-box--that fellow. Has a knack of poppingup when you least expect him. You never know what he will do next. Youcan only judge him by the things he doesn't do. For instance, there'sbeen a rumour floating about lately that he has just gone into aTibetan monastery. Heaven knows who started it and why. But it isabsolutely untrue. It is the sort of thing that couldn't be true of aman of his temperament. Don't you agree with me? Or perhaps you didn'tknow him very well, and don't feel qualified to judge. "

At this point he pulled out his programme and studied it frowningly. He was plainly not paying much attention to her reply. He seemed to becontemplating something that worried him. 

It made it all the easier for her to answer. "No, " she said slowly. "Ididn't know him very well. But--that rumour was told to me as absolutefact. I--of course--I believed it. "

She knew that her face was burning as she ended. She could feel theblood surging through every vein. 

"If you want to know what I think, " said Bobby Fraser deliberately, "it is that that rumour was a malicious invention of some one's. "

"Oh, do you?" she said. "But--but why?"

He turned and looked at her. His usually merry face was stern. "Because, " he said, "it served some one's end to make some one elsebelieve that Nick had dropped out for good. "

Her eyes fell under his direct look. "I don't understand, " shemurmured desperately. 

"Nor do I, " he rejoined, "for certain. I can only surmise. It doesn'tdo to believe things too readily. One gets let in that way. " He roseand offered her his arm. "Come outside for a little. This place is toowarm for comfort. "

She went with him willingly, thankful to turn her face to the night. Adozen questions hovered on her lips, but she could not ask him oneof them. She could only walk beside him and profess to listen tothe stream of anecdotes which he began to pour forth for herentertainment. 

She did not actually hear one of them. They came to her all jumbledand confused through such a torrent of gladness as surely she hadnever known before. For the bird in her heart had lifted its headagain, and was singing its rapture to the stars. 

CHAPTER LII

A WOMAN'S OFFERING

Looking back upon the hours that followed that talk with Bobby behindthe tamarisks, Muriel could never recall in detail how they passed. She moved in a whirl, all her pulses racing, all her senses on thealert. None of her partners had ever seen her gay before, but she wasgay that night with a spontaneous and wonderful gaiety that came fromthe very heart of her. It was not a gaiety that manifested itself inwords, but it was none the less apparent to those about her. For hereyes shone as though they looked into a radiant future, and she dancedas one inspired. She was like a statue waked to splendid life. 

Swiftly the hours flew by. She scarcely noted their passage, any morethan she noted the careless talk and laughter that hummed around her. She moved in an atmosphere of her own to a melody that none otherheard. 

The ball was wearing to a close when at length Lady Bassett summonedher to return. Lady Bassett was wearing her most gracious smile. 

"You have been much admired to-night, dear child, " she murmured to thegirl, as they passed into the cloakroom. 

Muriel's eyes looked disdainful for an instant, but they could notremain so. As swiftly the happiness flashed back into them. 

"I have enjoyed myself, " she said simply. 

She threw a gauzy scarf about her neck, and turned to go. She did notwant her evening spoilt by criticisms however honeyed. 

The great marble entrance was crowded with departing guests. She edgedher way to one of the pillars at the head of the long flight of steps, watching party after party descend to the waiting carriages. Thedancing had not yet ceased, and strains of waltz-music came to herwhere she stood, fitful, alluring, plaintive. They were playing "TheBlue Danube. "

She listened to it as one in a dream, and while she listened the tearsgathered in her eyes. How was it she had been so slow to understand?Would she ever make it up to him? She wondered how long he meant tokeep her in suspense. It was not like him to linger thus if he hadindeed received her message. She hoped he would come soon. The waitingwas hard to bear. 

She called to mind once more the last words he had spoken to her. He had said that he would not swoop a second time, but she couldnot imagine him doing anything else. He would be sudden, he would bedisconcerting, he would be overwhelming. He would come on winged feetin answer to her call, but he would give her no quarter. He wouldneither ask nor demand. He would simply take. 

She caught her breath and hastened to divert her thought, realising that she was on the verge of the old torturing process ofself-intimidation which had so often before unnerved her. 

The throng about her had lessened considerably. Glancing downwards, she discerned at the foot of the steps the old beggar who sopersistently haunted the Residency gates, incurring thereby LadyBassett's alarmed displeasure. He was crouching well to one side inthe familiar attitude of supplication. There were dozens like him inGhawalkhand, but she knew him by the peculiar, gibbering movement ofthe wiry beard that protruded from his chuddah. He was repulsive, butin a fashion fascinating. He made her think of a wizened old monkeywho had wandered from his kind. 

She had come to regard him almost in the light of a protege, and, remembering suddenly that he had besought an alms of her in vain somehours before, she turned impulsively to a man she knew who had justcome up. 

"Colonel Cathcart, will you lend me a rupee?"

He dived in his pocket and brought out a handful of money. She foundthe coin she wanted, thanked him with a smile, and began to descendthe steps. 

The old native was not looking at her. Something else seemed to havecaught his attention. For the moment he had ceased to cringe andimplore. 

She heard Sir Reginald's voice above her. He was standing in talk withthe Rajah while he waited for his wife. 

And then--she was half-way down the steps when it happened--a suddenloud cry rang fiercely up to her, arresting her where she stood--aman's voice inarticulate at first, bursting from mere sound intofurious headlong denunciation. 

"You infernal hound!" it cried. "You damned assassin!"

At the same instant the old beggar at the foot of the palace stepssprang panther-like from his crouching position to hurl himself bodilyat something that skulked in the shadows beyond him. 

The marvellous agility of the action, the unerring precision withwhich he pounced upon his prey, above all, the voice that had yelledin execration, sent such a stab of amazed recognition through Murielthat she stood for a second as one petrified. 

But the next instant all her senses were pricked into alertness by arevolver-shot. Another came, and yet another. They were fighting belowlike tigers--two men in native dress, swaying, straining, struggling, not three yards from where she stood. 

She never fully remembered afterwards how she came to realise thatNick--Nick himself--was there before her in the flesh, fighting likea demon, fighting as she had seen him fight once long ago when everynerve in her body had been strung to agonised repulsion. 

She felt no repulsion now--no shrinking of any sort, only a wildanguish of fear for his sake that drove her like a mad creature downthe intervening steps, that sent her flashing between him and hisadversary, that inspired her to wrench away the smoking revolver fromthe murderous hand that gripped it. 

She went through those awful moments as a woman possessed, blindlyobeying the compelling force, goaded by sheer, primaeval instinct toprotect her own. It was but a conflict of seconds, but while it lastedshe was untrammelled by any doubts or hesitations. She was sublimelysure of herself. She was superbly unafraid. 

When it was over, when men crowded round and dragged her enemy back, when the pressing need was past, her courage fell from her like amantle. She sank down upon the steps, a trembling, hysterical woman, and began to cry. 

Some one bent over her, some one whispered soothing words, some onedrew the revolver out of her weak grasp. Looking up, she saw the oldnative beggar upon whom she had thought to bestow her charity. 

"Oh, Nick!" she gasped. "Nick!" And there stopped in sudden misgiving. Was this grotesque figure indeed Nick? Could it be--this man who hadsat at the Residency gates for weeks, this man to whom she had sooften tossed an alms?

Her brain had begun to reel, but she clung to the central idea, as onein deep waters clinging to a spar. 

"Speak to me!" she entreated. "Only speak to me!"

But before he could answer, Bobby Fraser pushed suddenly forward, bent over, lifted her. "You are not hurt, Miss Roscoe?" he questionedanxiously, deep concern on his kindly face. "The damned swine didn'ttouch you? There! Come back into the palace. You're the bravest girl Iever met. "

He began to help her up the steps, but though she was spent and nearto fainting she resisted him. 

"That man--" she faltered. "Don't--don't let him go!"

"Certainly not, " said Bobby promptly. "Here, you old scarecrow, comeand lend a hand!"

But the old scarecrow apparently had other plans for himself, for hehad already vanished from the scene as swiftly and noiselessly as ashadow from a sheet. 

"He is gone!" wailed Muriel. "He is gone! Oh, why did you let him go?"

"He'll turn up again, " said Bobby consolingly. "That sort of chapalways does. I say, how ghastly you look! Take my arm! You are notgoing to faint, are you? Ah, here is Colonel Cathcart! Miss Roscoeisn't hurt, sir--only upset. Can't we get her back to the palace?"

They bore her back between them, and left her to be tended by thewomen. She was not unconscious, but the shock had utterly unstrungher. She lay with closed eyes, listening vaguely to the buzz ofexcited comment about her, and wondering, wondering with an achingheart, why he had gone. 

No one seemed to know exactly what had taken place, and she was tooexhausted to tell. Possibly she would hot have told in any case. Itwas known only that an attempt had been made upon the life of theBritish Resident, Sir Reginald Bassett, and it was surmised thatMuriel had realised the murderous intention in time to frustrate it. Certainly a native had tried to help her, but since the native haddisappeared, his share in the conflict was not regarded as very great. As a matter of fact, the light had been too uncertain and the struggletoo confused for even the eye-witnesses to know with any certaintywhat had taken place. Theories and speculations were many and various, but not one of them went near to the truth. 

"Dear Muriel will tell us presently just how it happened, " LadyBassett said in her soft voice. 

But Muriel was as one who heard not. She would not even open her eyestill Sir Reginald came to her, pillowed her head against him, kissedher white face, and called her his brave little girl. 

That moved her at last, awaking in her the old piteous hunger, never wholly stifled, for her father. She turned and clung to himconvulsively with an inarticulate murmuring that ended in passionatetears. 

CHAPTER LIII

THE LAST SKIRMISH

Why had he gone? That was the question that vexed Muriel's soulthrough the long hours that followed her return to the Residency. Lying sleepless on her bed, she racked her weary brain for an answerto the riddle, but found none. Her brief doubt regarding him had longsince fled. She knew with absolute certainty that it was Nick andno other who had yelled those furious words, who had made thatpanther-spring, who had leaned over her and withdrawn the revolverfrom her hold, telling her softly not to cry. But why had he gone justthen when she needed him most?

Surely by now her message had reached him! Surely he knew that shewanted him, that she had lowered what he had termed her miserablelittle rag of pride to tell him so! Then why was he tormenting herthus--playing with her as a cat might play with a mouse? Was he takinghis revenge for all the bitter scorn she had flung at him in the past?Did he think to wring from her some more definite appeal? Ah, that wasit! Like a searchlight flashing inwards, she remembered her promiseto him uttered long ago against her will--his answering oath. And sheknew that he meant to hold her to that promise--that he would exactthe very uttermost sacrifice that it entailed; and then perchance--sheshivered at the unendurable thought--he would laugh his baffling, enigmatical laugh, and go his way. 

But this was unbearable, impossible. She would sooner die than sufferit. She would sooner--yes, she would almost sooner--break her promise. 

And then, to save her from distraction, the other side of the picturepresented itself, that reverse side which he had once tauntinglyadvised her to study. If he truly loved her, he would not treat herthus. It would not gratify him to see her in the dust. If he stillcared, as Daisy had assured her he did, it would not be his pleasureto make her suffer. But then again--oh, torturing question!--had thatbeen so, would he have gone at that critical moment, would he haveleft her, when a look, a touch, would have sufficed to establishcomplete understanding?

Drearily the hours dragged away. The heat was great, and just beforedaybreak a thunder-storm rolled up, but spent itself without a drop ofrain. It put the finishing touches to Muriel's restlessness. She roseand dressed, to sit by her window with her torturing thoughts forcompany, and awaited the day. 

With the passing of the storm a slight draught that was like a shuddermoved the scorched leaves of the acacias in the compound, quivered alittle, and ceased. Then came the dawn, revealing mass upon mass ofpiled cloud hanging low over the earth. The breaking of the monsoonwas drawing very near. There could be no lifting of the atmosphere, norelief, until it came. 

She leaned her aching head against the window-frame in a maze ofweariness unutterable. Her heart was too heavy for prayer. 

Minutes passed. The daylight grew and swiftly overspread all things. The leaden silence began to be pierced here and there by the barkingof a dog, the crowing of a cock, the scolding of a parrot. Somewhere, either in the compound or close to it, some one began to whistle--asoft, tentative whistle, like a young blackbird trying its notes. 

Muriel remained motionless, scarcely heeding while it wove itself intothe background of her thoughts. She was in fact hardly aware of it, till suddenly, with a great thrill of astonishment that shook herfrom head to foot, a wild suspicion seized her, and she started up, listening intently. The fitful notes were resolving into a melody--awaltz she knew, alluring, enchanting, compelling--the waltz that hadfilled in the dreadful silences on that night long ago when she hadfought so desperately hard for her freedom and had prevailed at last. But stay! Had she prevailed? Had she not rather been a captive inspite of it all ever since?

On and on went the haunting waltz-refrain, now near, now far, nowsummoning, now eluding. She stood gripping the curtain till shecould bear it no longer, and then with a great sob she mustered herresolution; she stepped out upon the verandah, and passed down betweenshrivelled trailing roses to the garden below. 

The tune ceased quite suddenly, and she found herself moving througha silence that could be felt. But she would not turn back then. Shewould not let herself be discouraged. She had been frightened so oftenwhen there had been no need for fear. 

On she pressed to the end of the path till she stood by the highfence that bordered the road. She could see no one. The garden layabsolutely deserted. She paused, hesitating, bewildered. 

At the same instant from the other side of the fence, almost as ifrising from the ground at her feet, a careless voice began to hum--acracked, tuneless, unmistakable voice, that sent the blood to herheart with a force that nearly suffocated her. 

"Nick!" she said, almost in a whisper. 

He did not hear her evidently. His humming continued with unabatedliveliness. 

"Nick!" she said again. 

Still no result. There was nothing in the least dramatic in thesituation. It might almost have been described as ludicrous, but thewhite-faced woman in the compound did not find it so. 

She waited till he had come to a suitable stopping place, and then, before he could renew the melody, she rapped with nervous force uponthe fence. 

There fell a most unexpected silence. 

She broke it with words imploring, almost agonised. "Nick! Nick! Comeand speak to me--for Heaven's sake!"

His flippant voice greeted her at once in a tone of cheerful inquiry. "That you, Muriel?"

Her agitation began to subside of itself. Nothing could have been morecasual than his question. "Yes, " she said in reply. "Why are you outthere? Why don't you come in?"

"My dear girl, --at this hour!" There was shocked reproof in theejaculation. Nick was evidently scandalised at the suggestion. 

Muriel lost her patience forthwith. Was it for this that she had spentall those miserable hours of fruitless heart-searching? His triflingwas worse than ridiculous. It was insufferable. 

"You are to come in at once, " she said, in a tone of authority. 

"What for?" said Nick. 

"Because--because--" She hesitated, and stopped, her face burning. 

"Because--" said Nick encouragingly. 

"Oh, don't be absurd!" she exclaimed in desperation. "How can Ipossibly talk to you there?"

"It depends upon what you want to say, " said Nick. "If it is somethingparticularly private--" He paused. 

"Well?" she said. 

"You can always come to me, you know, " he pointed out. "But Ishouldn't do that, if I were you. It would be neither dignified norproper. And a girl in your position, dearest Muriel, cannot be toodiscreet. It is the greatest mistake in the world to act upon impulse. Let me entreat you to do nothing headlong. Take another year or so tothink things over. There are so many nice men to choose from, and thisabsurd infatuation of yours cannot possibly last. "

"Don't, Nick!" Muriel's voice held a curious mixture of mirth andsadness. "It--it isn't a bit funny to talk like that. It isn't evenparticularly kind. "

"Ye gods!" said Nick. "Who wants to be kind?"

"Not you, evidently, " she told him with a hint of bitterness. "Youonly aim at being intelligent. "

"Well, you'll admit I hit the mark sometimes, " he rejoined. "I'm likea rat, eh? Clever but loathsome. "

She uttered a quivering laugh. "No, you are much more like an eagle, waiting to strike. Why don't you, I wonder, and--and take what youwant?"

Nick's answering laugh had a mocking note in it. "Oh, I can playAnimal Grab as well as anybody--better than most, " he said modestly. "But I don't chance to regard this as a suitable occasion fordisplaying my skill. Uninteresting for you, of course, but then youare fond of running away when there is no one after you. It's beenyour favourite pastime for almost as long as I have known you. "

The sudden silence with which this airy remark was received had init something tragic. Muriel had sunk down on a garden-bench close athand, lacking the strength to go away. It was exactly what she hadexpected. He meant to take his revenge in his own peculiar fashion. She had laid herself open to this, and mercilessly, unerringly, he hadavailed himself of the opportunity to wound. She might have known! Shemight have known! Had he not done it again and again? Oh, she had beena fool--a fool--to call him back!

Through the wild hurry of her thoughts his voice pierced once more. Ithad an odd inflection that was curiously like a note of concern. 

"I say, Muriel, are you crying?"

"Crying!" She pulled herself together hastily. "No! Why should I?"

"I can tell you why you shouldn't, " he answered whimsically. "No oneever ought to cry before breakfast. It's shocking for the appetiteand may ruin the complexion for the rest of the day. Besides, --you'venothing to cry for. "

"Oh, don't be absurd!" she flung back again almost fiercely. "I'm notcrying!"

"Quite sure?" said Nick. 

"Absolutely certain, " she declared. 

"All right then, " he rejoined. "That being so, you had better dry youreyes very carefully, for I am coming to see for myself. "

CHAPTER LIV

SURRENDER

She awaited him still sitting on the bench and striving vainly toquiet her thumping heart. She heard him come lightly up behind her, but she did not turn her head though she had no tears to conceal. Shewas possessed by an insane desire to spring up and flee. It took allher resolution to remain where she was. 

And so Nick drew near unwelcomed--a lithe, alert figure in Europeanattire, bare-headed, eager-faced. He was smiling to himself as hecame, but when he reached her the smile was gone. 

He bent and looked into her white, downcast face; then laid his handupon her shoulder. 

"But Muriel--" he said. 

And that was all. Yet Muriel suddenly hid her face and wept. 

He did not attempt to restrain her. Perhaps he realised that tearssuch as those must have their way. But the touch of his hand was insome fashion soothing. It stilled the tempest within her, comfortingher inexplicably. 

She reached up at last, and drew it down between her own, holding itfast. 

"I'm such a fool, Nick, " she whispered shakily. "You--you must try tobear with me. "

She felt his fingers close and gradually tighten upon her own untiltheir grip was actual pain. 

"Haven't I borne with you long enough?" he said. "Can't you come tothe point?"

She shook her head slightly. Her trembling had not wholly ceased. Shewas not--even yet she was not--wholly sure of him. 

"Afraid?" he questioned. 

And she answered him meekly, with bowed head. "Yes, Nick; afraid. "

"Don't you think you might look me in the face if you tried veryhard?" he suggested. 

"No, Nick. " She almost shrank at the bare thought. 

"Oh, but you haven't tried, " he said. 

His voice sounded very close. She knew he was bending down. She evenfancied she could feel his breath upon her neck. 

Her head sank a little lower. "Don't!" she whispered, with a sob. 

"What are you afraid of?" he said. "You weren't afraid to send me amessage. You weren't afraid to save my life last night. What is itfrightens you?"

She could not tell him. Only her panic was very real. It shook herfrom head to foot. A fierce struggle was going on within her, --thelast bitter conflict between her love and her fear. It tore her in alldirections. She felt as if it would drive her mad. But through it allshe still clung desperately to the bony hand that grasped her own. Itseemed to sustain her, to hold her up, through all her chaos of doubt, of irresolution, of miserable, overmastering dread. 

"What is it frightens you?" he said again. "Why won't you look at me?There is nothing whatever to make you afraid!"

He spoke softly, as though he were addressing a scared child. Butstill she was afraid, afraid of the very impulse that urged her, horribly afraid of meeting the darting scrutiny of his eyes. 

He waited for a little in silence; then suddenly with a sharp sighhe straightened himself. "You don't know your own mind yet, " he said. "And I can't help you to know it. I had better go. "

He would have withdrawn his hand with the words, but she held it fast. 

"No, Nick, no! It isn't that, " she told him tremulously. "I know whatI want--perfectly well. But--but--I can't put it into words. I can't!I can't!"

"Is that it?" said Nick. His manner changed completely. He bent downagain. She heard the old note of banter in his voice, but mingled withit was a tenderness so utter that she scarcely recognised it. "Then, my dear girl, in Heaven's name, don't try! Words were not made forsuch an occasion as this. They are clumsy tools at the best of times. You can make me understand without words. I'm horribly intelligent, asyou remarked just now. "

Her heart leapt to the rapid assurance. Was it so difficult to tellhim after all? Surely she could find a way!

The tumult of her emotions swelled to sudden uproar, thunderous, all-possessing, overwhelming, so that she gasped and gasped again forbreath. And then all in a moment she knew that the conflict was over. She was as a diver, hurling with headlong velocity from dizzy heightinto deep waters, and she rejoiced--she exulted--in that mad rush intodepth. 

With a quivering laugh she moved. She loosened her convulsive claspupon his hand, turned it upwards, and stooping low, she pressed herlips closely, passionately, lingeringly, upon his open palm. She hadfound a way. 

He started sharply at her action; he almost winced. Then, "Muriel!" heexclaimed in a voice that broke, and threw himself on his knees besideher, holding her fast in a silence so sudden and so tense that shealso was awed into a great stillness. 

Yet, after a little, though his face was pressed against her sothat she could not see it or even vaguely guess his mood, she foundstrength to speak. 

"I can tell you what I want now, Nick, " she whispered. "Shall I tellyou?"

He did not answer, did not so much as breathe. But yet she knew nofear or hesitancy. Her eyes were opened, and her tongue loosed. Wordscame easily to her now, more easily than they had ever come before. 

"I want to be married--soon, very soon, " she told him softly. "Andthen I want you to take me away with you into Nepal, as you plannedever so long ago. And let us be alone together in the mountains--quitealone as we were before. Will you, Nick? Will you?"

But again he had no answer for her. He did not seem able to reply. His head still lay against her shoulder. His arm was still tense abouther. She fell silent, waiting for him. 

At last he drew a deep breath that seemed to burst upwards from thevery heart of him, and lifted his face with a jerk. 

"My God!" he said. "Is it true?"

His voice was oddly uneven; he seemed to produce it with difficulty. But having broken the spell that bound him, he managed after a momentto continue. 

"Are you quite sure you want to marry me, --quite sure that to-morrowyou won't be scared out of your wits at the bare idea? Have you leftoff being afraid of me? Do you mean me really to take you at yourword?"

"If you will, Nick, " she answered humbly. 

"If I will!" he echoed, with sudden passion. "I warn you, Muriel, youare putting yourself irrevocably in my power, and you will never breakaway again. You may come to loathe me with your whole soul, but Ishall never let you go. Have you realised that? If I take you now, Itake you for all time. "

He spoke almost with violence, and, having spoken, drew back from herabruptly, as though he could not wholly trust himself. 

But nothing could dismay her now. She had fought her last battle, hadmade the final surrender. Her fear was dead. She stretched out herhands to him with unfaltering confidence. 

"Take me then, Nick, " she said. 

He took the extended hands with quick decision, first one and then theother, and laid them on his shoulders. 

"Now look at me, " he said. 

She hesitated, though not as one afraid. 

"Look at me, Muriel!" he insisted. 

Then, as she kept her eyes downcast, he put his hand under her chinand compelled her. 

She yielded with a little quivering murmur of protest, and so for thefirst time in her life she deliberately met his look, encounteringeyes so wide and so piercingly blue that she had a moment's bewilderedfeeling of uncertainty, as though she had looked into the eyes of astranger. Then the colourless lashes descended again and veiled themas of old. He blinked with his usual disconcerting rapidity and sether free. 

"Yes, " he said. "You've left off cheating. And if you really care tomarry me--what's left of me--it's a precious poor bargain, but--I amyours. "

His voice cracked a little. She fancied he was going to laugh. Andthen, while she was still wondering, his arm went round her again anddrew her closely to him. She was conscious of a sudden, leaping flamebehind the pale lashes, felt his hold tighten while the wrinkled facedrew near, --and with a sob she clasped her arms about his neck andturned her lips to his. 

CHAPTER LV

OMNIA VINCIT AMOR

"Funny, wasn't it?" said Nick, jingling a small handful of coins infront of his fiancée. "Quite a harvest in its way! I had no idea youwere so charitable. "

She caught his wrist. "You have no right to a single one of them. Youobtained them under false pretences. What in the world induced you todo such a thing?"

Nick's hand closed firmly upon the spoil. "It was a sheer, heaven-sentinspiration, " he declared. "Care to know how it came to me? Ithappened one night in the Indian Ocean when I was on the way out withDaisy. I was lying on deck under the stars, thinking of you, and thewhole idea came to me ready-made. I didn't attempt to shape it; itshaped itself. I was hungering for the sight of you, and I knew youwould never find me out. You never would have, either, if I hadn'thad Daisy's message. I was just going to quit my lonely vigil whenit reached me. But that altered my plans, and I decided with Fraser'sassistance to face it out. You knew he was in the secret, of course?He is in every secret, that chap. As soon as I heard of Lady Bassett'singenious little fiction about the Buddhist monastery, I was readyto take the wan path. But you were invisible, you know. I had to waittill you emerged. Then came last night's episode, and I had to take tomy heels. I couldn't face a public exposure, and it wouldn't havebeen particularly pleasant for you, either. So now you have the wholetouching story, and I think you needn't grudge me a rupee and a fewannas as a reward for my devotion. "

Muriel laughed rather tremulously. "I would have given you somethingbetter worth having--if I had known. "

"Never too late, " said Nick philosophically. "You can begin at onceif you like. Let me have your hand. Hold it steady, my dear girl. Remember my limitations. You won't refuse any longer to wear my ring?"

"I will wear it gladly, " she told him, as he fitted it back upon herfinger. "I shall never part with it again. "

Her eyes were full of tears, but she would not let them fall, and Nickwas too intent upon what he was doing to notice. 

"That imp Olga nearly broke her poor little heart when she gave itback to me, " he said. "I think I shall have to send her a cable. Whatshall I say? OMNIA VINCIT AMOR? She is old enough to know what thatmeans. And if I add, 'From Muriel and Nick, ' she will understand. Apity she can't come to our wedding! I'd sooner have seen her jollylittle phiz than all Lady Bassett's wreathed smiles. She is sure tosmile, you know. She always does when she sees me. " He broke off witha hideous grimace. 

"Don't, Nick!" Muriel's voice trembled a little. "Why does she hateyou so?"

"Can't imagine, " grinned Nick. "It's a way some people have. Perhapsshe will end by falling in love with me. Who knows?"

"Don't be horrid, Nick! Why won't you tell me?" Muriel laid a pleadinghand upon his. 

He caught it to his lips. "I can't tell you, darling, seeing she isa woman. An unpleasant adventure befell her once for which I waspartially responsible. And she has hated me with most unseemlyvehemence ever since. "

A light began to break upon Muriel. "Was it something that happened onboard ship?" she hazarded. 

He gave her a sharp look. "Who told you that?"

She flushed a little. "Bobby Fraser. He didn't mention her name, ofcourse. We--we were talking about you once. "

Nick laughed aloud. "Only once?"

Her colour deepened. "You are positively ridiculous. Still, I wishit hadn't been Lady Bassett, Nick. I don't like to feel she hates youlike that. "

"It doesn't hurt me in the least, " Nick declared. "Her poison-fang isextracted so far as I am concerned. She could only poison me throughyou. I always knew I had her to thank for what happened at Simla. "

"Oh, but not her alone, " Muriel said quickly. "You mustn't blame heronly for that. I was prejudiced against you by--other things. "

"I know all about it, " said Nick. He was holding her hand in his, moving it hither and thither to catch the gleam of the rubies upon it. "You were a poor little scared rabbit fleeing from a hideous monsterof destruction. You began to run that last night at Wara when I madeyou drink that filthy draught, and you have hardly stopped yet. Idon't suppose it ever occurred to you that I would rather have diedin torment than have done it. " He broke into a sudden laugh. "But youneedn't be afraid that I shall ever do it again. I can't do muchto any one with only one arm, can I? You witnessed my futility lastnight. There's a grain of comfort in that, eh, darling?"

"Nick, don't, don't!" She turned to him impulsively and laid her cheekagainst his shoulder. "You--you don't know how you hurt me!"

"My dear girl, what's the matter?" said Nick. "I was only trying todraw your attention to my good points--such as they are. "

"Don't!" she said again, in a choked voice. "It's more than I canbear. You would never have lost your arm but for me. "

"Oh, rats!" said Nick, holding her closely. "Whoever told you that--"

"It was Dr. Jim. "

"Well, Jim's an ass, and I shall tell him so. There, don't fret, darling. It isn't worth it. I could wish it hadn't happened for yoursake, but I don't care a rap for my own. "

"You are not to care for mine, " she whispered. "I shall only love youthe better for it. "

"Then it will be a blessing to me after all, " said Nick cheerily. "Do you know what we are going to do as soon as we are married, sweetheart? We are going to climb the highest mountain in the world, to see the sun rise, and to thank God. "

She turned her face upwards with a quivering smile. "Let us be marriedsoon then, Nick. "

"At once, " said Nick promptly. "Come along and tell Sir Reginald. He must be out of bed by this time. If he isn't I think the occasionalmost justifies us in knocking him up. "

They found Sir Reginald already upon the verandah, drinking his earlycoffee, and to Muriel's dismay he was not alone. It was later than shehad imagined, and Colonel Cathcart and Bobby Fraser had both droppedin for a gossip, and were seated with him at the table smoking. 

As she and Nick approached, Lady Bassett herself emerged through anopen window behind the three men. 

Nick began to chuckle. This was the sort of situation that appealedto his sense of humour. He began to chant an old-world ditty under hisbreath with appropriate words. 

"Oh, dear, what will the Bassett say?"

Muriel uttered a short, hysterical laugh, and instantly they werediscovered. 

"Now what are you going to do?" said Nick. 

"I don't know, " she responded hurriedly. "Run away, I think. "

"Not you, " said Nick, grasping her hand very firmly. "You are going toface the music with me. "

She gave in, half laughing, half protesting, and he led her up thesteps with considerable pomp. 

She need not have been so painfully embarrassed, for every one, withthe exception of Bobby Fraser, looked at Nick, and Nick only, inspeechless amazement, as though he had just returned from the dead. 

Nick was sublimely equal to the occasion. He came to a standstill bythe table, executed an elaborate bow in Lady Bassett's direction, thenturned briskly to Sir Reginald. 

"After two years' deliberation, " he announced, "we have decided tosettle our differences by getting married, and we are hoping, sir, that you will bestow your blessing upon our union. "

"My good fellow!" gasped Sir Reginald. "This is a very greatsurprise!"

"Yes, I know, " said Nick. "It was to me, too. But--though fullysensible of my unworthiness--I shall do my best to deserve the veryhigh honour that has been done me. And I hope we may count upon yourapproval and support. "

Again his bow included Lady Bassett. There was a mocking glint in theglance he threw her. 

She came forward as though in answer to a challenge, her faceunwontedly flushed. "This is indeed unexpected!" she declared, extending her hand. "How do you do, Captain Ratcliffe? You willunderstand our surprise when I tell you that some one was saying onlythe other day that you had entered a Tibetan monastery. "

"Some one must have been telling a lie, dear Lady Bassett, " said Nick. "I am sorry if it caused you any uneasiness on my account. I shouldcertainly never have taken such a serious step without letting youknow. I trust that my projected marriage will have a less disturbingeffect. "

Lady Bassett smiled her crooked smile, and raised one eyebrow. "Oh, Ishall not be anxious on your account, " she assured him playfully. 

"Quite right, Lady Bassett, " broke in Colonel Cathcart. "He'll holdhis own, wherever he is. I always said so when he was in the Service. "

"And a little over probably, " put in Bobby Fraser. "Miss Roscoe, ifyou ever find him hard to manage, you send for me. "

Muriel, from the shelter of Sir Reginald's arm, looked across at thespeaker with a smile of unwonted confidence. 

"Thank you all the same, " she responded, "but I don't expect anydifficulties in that respect. "

"She is far more likely to fight my battles for me, " remarked Nickcomplacently, "seeing my own fighting days are over. "

"And what have you been doing with yourself all this time?" demandedSir Reginald suddenly. "You have been singularly unobtrusive. Whathave you been doing?"

Nick's answering grin was one of sheer exuberance of spirit. "I'vejust been marking time, sir, that's all, " he replied enigmatically. "A monotonous business for every one concerned, but it seems to haveserved its purpose. "

Sir Reginald grunted a little, and looked uncomfortably at his wife'stwisted smile. "And now you want to get married, do you?" he said. 

"At once, " said Nick. 

"Well, well, " said Sir Reginald, beginning to smile himself. "All'swell that ends well, and Muriel is old enough to please herself. Mindyou are good to her, that's all. And I wish you both every happiness. "

"So do I, " said Bobby Fraser heartily. "And look here, youjack-in-the-box, if you're wanting a best man to push you through, I'll undertake the job. It's a capacity in which I have often mademyself useful. "

"Right O!" laughed Nick. "But you won't find I want much pushing, oldchap. I'm on my way to the top crag of Everest already. "

"Ah, Captain Ratcliffe, be careful!" murmured Lady Bassett. "Do notsoar too high!"

He bowed to her a third time, still with his baffling smile. "Thanks, dear Lady Bassett!" he said lightly. "But you need have no misgivings. Forewarned is forearmed, they say. And on this occasion, at least, Iam wise--in time. "

"And dear Muriel too, I wonder?" smiled Lady Bassett. 

"And dear Muriel too, " smiled Nick. 

CHAPTER LVI

THE EAGLE SOARS

Night and a running stream--a soft gurgle of sound that was like alullaby. Within the tent the quiet breathing of a man asleep; standingin the entrance--a woman. 

There was a faint quiver in the air as of something coming from afar, a hushed expectancy of something great. A chill breath came off thesnows, hovering secretly above the ice-cold water. The stars glitteredlike loose-hung jewels upon a sable robe. 

Ah, that flash as of a sword across the sky! A meteor had fallen amongthe mountains. It was almost like a signal in the heavens--herald ofthe coming wonder of the dawn. 

Softly the watcher turned inwards, and at once a gay, cracked voicespoke out of the darkness. 

"Hullo, darling! Up and watching already! Ye gods! What a sky! Whydidn't you wake me sooner? Have I time for a plunge?"

"Perhaps--if you will let me help you dress after it. Certainly nototherwise. " The deep voice had in it a tremulous note that was like acaress. The speaker was looking into the shadows. The glory without nolonger held her. 

"All right then, you shall--just for a treat. Perhaps you would liketo shave me as well?"

"Shave you!" There was scorn this time in the answering voice. "Youcouldn't grow a single hair if you tried!"

"True, O Queen! I couldn't. And the few I was born with are invisible. Hence my failure to distinguish myself in the Army. It is to be hopedthe deficiency will not blight my Parliamentary career also--alwayssupposing I get there. "

"Ah, but you did distinguish yourself. I heard--once"--the words camewith slight hesitation--"that you ought to have had the V. C. After theWara expedition, --only you refused it. "

"I wonder what gas-bag let that out, " commented Nick. "You shouldn'tbelieve all you hear, you know. Now, darling, I'm ready for theplunge, and I must look sharp about it too. Do you mind rummaging outa towel?"

"But, Nick, was it true?"

"What? The V. C. Episode? Oh, I suppose so, more or less. I didn'twant to be decorated for running away, you see. It didn't seem exactlysuitable. Besides, I didn't do it for that. "

"Nick, do you know you make me feel more contemptible every day?"There was an unmistakable quiver of distress in the words. 

"My own girl, don't be a goose!" came the light response. "You don'thonestly suppose I could ever regret anything now, do you? Why, it's alost faculty. "

He stepped from the tent, clad loosely in a bath sheet, and bestowed akiss upon his wife's downcast face in passing. "Look here, sweetheart, if you cry while I'm in the water, I'll beat you directly I come out. That's a promise, not a threat. And by the way, I've got somethinggood to tell you presently; so keep your heart up. "

He laughed at her and went his way, humming tunelessly after hisown peculiarly volatile fashion. She listened to his singing, as hesplashed in the stream below, as though it were the sweetest music onearth; and she knew that he had spoken the truth. Whatever sacrificeshe had made in the past, regret was a thing impossible to him now. 

By the time he joined her again, she had driven away her own. The skywas changing mysteriously. The purple depth was lightening, the starsreceding. 

"We must hurry, " said Nick. "The gods won't wait for us. "

But they were ready first after all, and the morning found them highup the mountainside with their faces to the east. 

Sudden and splendid, the sun flashed up over the edge of the world, and the snow of the mountain crests shone in roselit glory for a fewmagic seconds, then shimmered to gold--glittering as the peaks ofParadise. 

They did not speak at all, for the ground beneath their feet was holy, and all things that called for speech were left behind. Only asdawn became day--as the sun-god mounted triumphant above the waitingearth--the man's arm tightened about the woman, and his flickeringeyes grew steadfast and reverent as the eyes of one who sees avision.... 

"'Prophet and priestess we came--back from the dawning, '" quoted Nick, under his breath. 

Muriel uttered a long, long sigh, and turned her face against herhusband's shoulder. 

His lips were on her forehead for a moment; the next he was peeringinto her face with his usual cheery grin. 

"Care to hear my piece of news?" he questioned. 

She looked at him eagerly. "Oh, Nick, not the mail!"

He nodded. "Runner came in late last night. You were asleep anddreaming of me. I hadn't the heart to wake you. "

She laughed and blushed. "As if I should! Do you really imagine that Inever think of anyone else? But go on. What news?"

He pulled out two letters. "One from Olga, full of adoration, blessher funny heart, and containing also a rude message from Jim to theeffect that Redlands is going to rack and ruin for want of a tenantwhile we are philandering on the outside edge of civilisation doingno good to anybody. No good indeed! I'll punch his head for that someday. But I suppose we really ought to be thinking of Home before long, eh, sweetheart?"

She assented with a smile and a sigh. "I am sure we ought. Dr. Jim isquite right. We must come back to earth again, my eagle and I. "

Nick kissed her hair. "It's been a gorgeous flight hasn't it? We'll doit again--heaps of times--before we die. "

"If nothing happens to prevent, " said Muriel. 

He frowned. "What do you say that for? Are you trying to be like LadyBassett? Because it's a vain aspiration, so you may as well give it upat the outset. "

"Nick, how absurd you are!" There was a slight break in the words. "I--I had almost forgotten there was such a person. No, I said itbecause--because--well, anything might happen, you know. "

"Such as?" said Nick. 

"Anything, " she repeated almost inaudibly. 

Nick pondered this for a moment. "Is it a riddle?" he asked. 

She did not answer him. Her face was hidden. 

He waited a little. Then, "I shall begin to guess directly, " he said. 

She uttered a muffled laugh, and clung to him with a sudden, passionate closeness. "Nick, you--you humbug! You know!"

Nick tossed his letters on the ground and held her fast. "My preciousgirl, you gave the show away not ten seconds ago by that blush ofyours. There! Don't be so absurdly shy! You can't be shy with me. Lookat me, sweet. Look up and tell me it's true!"

She turned her face upwards, quivering all over, yet laughingtremulously. "Yes, Nick, really, really!" she told him. "Oh, mydarling, are you glad?"

"Am I glad?" said Nick, and laughed at her softly. "I'm the happiestman on earth. I shall go Home now without a pang, and so will you. We have got to feather the nest, you know. That'll be fun, eh, sweetheart?"

Her eyes answered him more convincingly than any words. They seemedto have caught some of the sunshine that made the world around them soglorious. 

Some time elapsed before she remembered the neglected correspondence. Time was of no account up there among the mountains. 

"The other letter, Nick, you didn't tell me about it. I fancied youmight have heard from Will Musgrave. "

"So I have, " said Nick. "You had better read it. There's a line foryou inside. It's all right. Daisy has got a little girl, both doingsplendidly; Daisy very happy, Will nearly off his head with joy. "

Muriel was already deep in Will's ecstatic letter. She read it withsmiling lips and tearful eyes. At the end in pencil she found the linethat was for her. 

"Tell Muriel that all's well with me, and I want you both forChristmas. --Daisy. "

Muriel looked up. "I promised to spend Christmas with them, Nick. "

Nick smiled upon her quizzically. "By a strange coincidence, darling, so did I. I should think under the circumstances we might go together, shouldn't you?"

She drew his hand to her cheek. "We will go to them for Christmasthen. And after that straight Home. Tell Dr. Jim when you write. But--Nick--I think we should like to feather the nest all ourselves, don't you?"

"Why, rather!" said Nick. "We'll do it together--just you and I. "

"Just you and I, " she repeated softly. 

Later, hand in hand, they looked across the valley to the shiningcrags that glistened spear-like in the sun. 

A great silence lay around them--a peace unspeakable--that thosesilver crests lifted into the splendour of Infinity. 

They stood alone together--above the world--with their faces to themountains. 

And thus standing with the woman he loved, Nick spoke, briefly--itseemed lightly--yet with a certain tremor in his voice. 

"Horses, " he said--"and chariots--of fire!" And Muriel looked at himwith memory and understanding in her eyes. 

THE END