t had been his for three years still
going on, but with no place in it for him.

The period of Wargrave's convalescence was a very happy time for him.
Muriel had remained a whole month after the eventful night; for Mrs.
Dermot declared that, with the care of her house and children, she had
no time to nurse the subaltern, and the girl must stay to do it while he
was in any danger. So she lingered in the station to do him willing
service, wait on him, chat or read to him, give him her arm when he was
first allowed to leave his room, and did it all with the bright,
cheerful kindness of a friend, no more. She never alluded to his words
to her; but her patient somehow guessed that she had not been angered by
the revelation of the state of his feelings towards her. And from the
tenderness of her manner to him, the unconscious jealousy that she
displayed if anyone but she did any service for him, he began to half
hope, half fear, that she cared a little for him in return. But even as
he thought this he realised that he must not allow her to do so.

At last the time came when she had to return to her father down in the
vast forest; and bravely as she said goodbye to everyone--and most of
all to Frank--the tears blinded her as she sat on the back of the
elephant that bore her away and saw the hills close in and shut from her
gaze the little station that held her heart.

Wargrave, however, was not left to pine in loneliness after her
departure. All day long, if they were allowed, the children stayed with
him, Eileen smothering him with caresses at regular intervals. They told
him their doings, confided their dearest secrets to him and demanded
stories. And "Fwankie" racked his brains to recall the fairy tales of
his own childhood to repeat to the golden-haired mites perched on his
bed and gazing at him in awed fascination, the girl uttering little
shrieks at all the harrowing details of the wicked deeds of Giant
Blunderbore and the cruel deceit of the wolf that devoured Red
Ridinghood.

But the subaltern, had a grimmer visitor one day. The orders came at
last for Gul Mahommed to be sent to Calcutta to stand his trial without
waiting for Wargrave's recovery, the latter's evidence being taken on
commission. The prisoner begged that he might be allowed to see the
wounded officer before he left; and, Frank having consented, he was
brought to the subaltern's bedroom when he was marched out of the Fort
on the first stage of his jou