" Her more serious mood had
conquered his good spirits, and for a moment he stood at her side
looking at the disused bungalow with eyes as thoughtful as her own.
"Isn't it strange?" he went on. "Our parents came together from
different ends of the earth, doomed to die in the same spot and in the
same hour, and we children, far away in England, knowing nothing of
each other, have drifted back to the fatal place to find each other
there and to--"
"Yes," she said as he hesitated, "it is strange. I could almost think
that this bungalow had some mysterious influence over our lives."
He smiled in half confirmation of her fancy.
"It may be. But come! We have had enough gloom for one evening. Let me
gather some flowers for you before we go back."
She assented, and they followed the winding paths, stopping here and
there to cut down some of the most tempting of Mrs. Carmichael's
tenderly loved blossoms and always turning aside when they came in
sight of the Colonel's verandah. No word of tenderness had ever passed
between them, and yet they were happy to be together. It was as though
a bond united them which had grown up, silent and unseen, from the
first hour they had met, and in a quiet, peaceful way they knew that
it existed and that they loved each other.
From the verandah where she was sewing by the fading light Mrs.
Carmichael could watch their appearing and disappearing figures amidst
the trees with the satisfaction of a confirmed match-maker.
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