f taking him or leaving him there and then, and when Charteris came
back, you snubbed him. And if Gerrard should be killed now, in trying
to save my dear Charley, I suppose you and Charteris would mingle your
tears over him. No, Charteris has more sense. He won't let himself be
treated----"

Honour's eyes were bright. "Oh, do you mean that Mr Gerrard is helping
Mr Charteris? Sir Edmund did not mention him."

"They are co-operating, Lady Antony told me--making forced marches in
the hot weather, to avenge Charley if they can't save him. But you
don't care--or if you do, it's only because you like to think you can
be an inspiration to them without giving anything in return. You don't
want to marry either of them, but you won't break with them so long as
they are willing to dangle about you."

"I don't want to marry either of them, it is true, but if they are
willing to be my friends still, why should I break with them, as you
call it?"

"Because each of them thinks that you will be willing to marry him one
day, and you know it. You are rather proud of their constancy, and
your own firmness in not yielding to either of them. But it is not a
thing to be proud of; it is a thing to be ashamed of and sorry for.
You could make far more of either of those men by coming down from your
pedestal and marrying him in an ordinary everyday way than by standing
up above him and giving him good advice. I know you have some delusion
that it is better and higher to be as you are, but I tell you that I
had rather have married my Charley and known him as he really was
and--yes, and even lost him--than stood on high and given good advice
to a whole army. Oh, Charley, my dear kind Charley--and I behaved so
badly to you when you went away! I never kissed you!"

A fresh paroxysm of tears succeeded the angry words, and Honour yielded
to the ayah's whispered entreaties, and left the room. Grief and
resentment combined to give her a very disturbed night, and when Lady
Cinnamond arrived, tired and travel-stained, about mid-day, after an
unbroken journey from Ranjitgarh, she was shocked at her daughter's
appearance. But there was no time to think of Honour, for Marian,
hearing her mother's voice, had tottered to her door.

"Oh, dear mamma, I have wanted you so much! You understand, you know
all about it."

Not until the evening did Honour see her mother again, and then Lady
Cinnamond crept out on tiptoe into the verandah.

"Ho