A FRIEND

Two days later Hope received an invitation from Mrs. Latimer to join her
at the Hill Station for a few weeks.

She hesitated, for her brother's sake, to accept it, but he, urged
thereto by some very plain speaking from his major, persuaded her so
strongly that she finally yielded.

Though she would not have owned it, Hope was, in fact, in sore need of
this change. The heat had told upon her nerves and spirits. She had had
no fever, but she was far from well, as her friend, Mrs. Latimer,
realized as soon as she saw her.

She at once prescribed complete rest, and the week that followed was to
Hope the laziest and the most peaceful that she had ever known. She was
always happy in Mrs. Latimer's society, and she had no desire just then
for gaiety. The absolute freedom from care acted upon her like a tonic,
and she very quickly began to recover her usual buoyant health.

The colonel's wife watched her unobserved. She had by her a letter,
written in the plain language of a man who knew no other, and she often
referred to this letter when she was alone; for there seemed to be
something between the lines, notwithstanding its plainness.

As a result of this suspicion, when Hope rode back in Mrs. Latimer's
_rickshaw_ from an early morning service at the little English church on
the hill, on the second Sunday after her arrival, a big figure, clad in
white linen, rose from a _charpoy_ in Mrs. Latimer's veranda, and
stepped down bareheaded to receive her.

Hope's face, as she recognized the visitor, flushed so vividly that she
was aware of it, and almost feared to meet his eyes. But he spoke at
once, and thereby set her at her ease.

"That's much better," he said approvingly, as if he had only parted from
her the day before. "I was afraid you were going on the sick-list, but I
see you have thought better of it. Very wise of you."

She met his smile with a feeling of glad relief.

"How is Ronnie?" she said.

He laughed a little at the hasty question.

"Ronnie is quite well, and sends his love. He is going to have a five
days' leave next week to come and see you. It would have been this week,
but for me."

Hope looked up at him enquiringly.

"You see," he quietly explained, "I was coming myself, and--it will seem
odd to you, of course--I didn't want Ronnie."

Hope was silent. There was something in his manner that baffled her.

"Selfish of me, wasn't it?" he said.

"I don't know," said Hope.

"It was