he answer. Chiefly against herself, no doubt,
for her inglorious descent from the pinnacle of stoicism, to which she
had climbed barely an hour ago. It seemed that Love, coming late to
these two, had come as a refiner's fire, to "torment their hearts,
till it should have unfolded the capacities of their spirits." For
Love, like Wisdom, is justified of all her children.

Breakfast, followed by details of housekeeping, reinstated
common-sense. After all, since she had resolved to remain in the
background, Theo had simplified affairs by consigning her to her
destined position. She could quite well keep her promise to Dr Mackay,
and superintend all matters of moment, without spending much time in
the sick-room. Evelyn had agreed to accept her share of the nursing;
and, as she had said, there were others, whose right was beyond her
own.

Shortly after tiffin, Wyndham arrived with Rajinder Singh; and finding
them together in the drawing-room--after the short interview permitted
by Paul--Honor took the opportunity of fulfilling a request made by
Theo on the previous evening.

"I have to write to Mrs Denvil," she said to Paul. "Would the Sirdar
mind giving me a few details about the fighting on the 17th?"

Paul glanced approvingly at the old Sikh, who stood beside him, a
princely figure of a man, in the magnificent mufti affected by the
native cavalry officer--a long coat of peach-coloured brocade, and a
turban of the same tint.

"Mind? He needs very little encouragement to enlarge on Theo's share
in the proceedings."

"I would like to hear all he can tell me about that," she answered on
a low note of fervour.

"You could follow him, I suppose?"

"Yes, perfectly."

"You hear, Ressaldar Sahib." Paul turned to his companion. "The Miss
Sahib desires full news of the attack and engagement on Tuesday
morning, that she may write of it to England."

The man's eyes gleamed under his shaggy brows, and he launched into
the story, nothing loth; his eloquence rising as he warmed to the
congenial theme.

Paul Wyndham stepped back a few paces into a patch of shadow, the
better to watch Honor Meredith at his ease. She had balanced herself
lightly on the arm of a chair; and now leaned a little forward, her
lips just parted in the eagerness of anticipation. A turquoise
medallion on a fine gold chain made a single incident of colour on the
habitual ivory tint of her gown; threads of burnished copper glinted
among the coils of her