ailable a rampart, if at the same time it
falls in with one's own wishes."

"Edith! How unjust the melancholy events of the last few weeks have made
you! If you think it over quietly, you will see that my personal wishes
and my heart's desires are not in question at all. And really I do not
understand what you think I could possibly do."

"Oh, there would be more than one way of sparing us the pain of a
separation, but I will only mention the first that occurs to me.
Couldn't we very well remain together in India? If it is the question
of money that makes you hesitate, I can soon make your mind easy on that
point. I have enough money for both of us, and what is mine is yours.
If we retire to a part of the country which the war cannot reach, a hill
station such as Poona or Mahabeleshwar, no one will trouble you with
questions or think of following you. And if you live there and devote
yourself to your love instead of slaying your fellow-men, it will be
more acceptable to God."

In spite of the seriousness with which she spoke, Heideck could not help
smiling as he answered: "What a wonderful picture of the world and its
affairs is sometimes drawn in a pretty woman's little head! It is really
fortunate that we sober-minded men do not allow our heart to run away
with our head so easily. Otherwise we should come badly off, for you
yourselves would certainly be the first to turn away from us with
contempt, if we tried to purchase the happiness of your love at any
price--even at the price of your respect."

Edith Irwin did not contradict him. Silent and sorrowful, for a long
time she looked out upon the bright moonlight Indian night. Then, when
Heideck approached her, to take leave of her with tender words, she said
in a voice which cut him to the heart: "Whether we understand each other
or not, in one thing at least you shall be under no delusion. Whereever
you may go--into a paradise of peace or the hell of war--I will not
forsake you."

With passionate impetuosity she flung herself into his arms and pressed
her burning lips upon his. Then, as if afraid of her own heart's
passion, she gently pushed him towards the door.

XXIII

HOMEWARD BOUND

As Heideck had foreseen, the announcement of the victory was followed
by disastrous tidings for the English. Up to noon on the following day
Bombay had waited in vain for confirmation of the despatch and fuller
particulars. Very late in the evening, amidst a general f