without
being too fashionable."

"I think that will be an excellent plan," Mrs. Cunningham said.

"If you like I will drive you up to town, and the luggage can go by the
carrier; it is more pleasant than being shut up in a coach."

"Much more cheerful, of course."

"You will, of course, leave many of your things here, and the packing
them up will give her something to do, and prevent her from brooding."

"I think that is an excellent idea, Mark."

Late in the afternoon Ramoo came in in his usual silent manner. The man
had said but little during the past few days, but it was evident that he
was grieving deeply, and he looked years older than he had done before
that fatal night.

"Of course, Ramoo, you will stay with me for the present. I hardly know
what I shall be doing for a time, but I am sure that until I settle
down, Miss Conyers will be very glad to have you with her."

"No, sahib, Ramoo will return home to India. Ramoo is getting old; he
was thirty when he entered the service of the Colonel, sahib; he is
fifty now; he will go home to end his days; he has saved enough to live
in comfort, and with what the lawyer sahib told him your father has left
him he will be a rich man among his own people."

"But you will find things changed, Ramoo, since you left; while here,
you know, we all regard you as a friend rather than as a servant."

"You are all very kind and good, sahib. Ramoo knows that he will meet no
friends like those he has here, but he longs for the bright sun and blue
sky of India, and though it will well nigh break his heart to leave the
young missie and you, he feels that he must go."

"All right, Ramoo. We shall all be very sorry to lose you, but I
understand your longing to go home, and I know that you always feel our
cold winters very trying; therefore I will not oppose your wishes. I
shall be going up to town in two or three days, and will arrange to pay
your legacy at once, and will inquire what vessels are sailing."

Millicent was unfeignedly sorry when she heard of Ramoo's determination;
she was very fond of him, for when as a child she first arrived at
Crowswood he had been her companion whenever the Squire did not require
his services, and would accompany her about the garden and grounds,
listening to her prattle, carrying her on his shoulder, and obeying
her behests. No doubt he knew that she was the daughter of his former
master, and had to a certain extent transferred his allegian