"Good-by,
Beatrice."
"Good-by."
He pushed his writing-table to one side so that she could pass out on
to the verandah.
"Do not come with me farther," she said. "The carriage is waiting
outside. I would rather go alone."
He stood and watched her as she passed lightly and quickly among the
rose-bushes. It was as though he were trying to engrave upon his mind
the memory of a lovely picture that he was never to see again,--as
though he were bidding her a final farewell. Twice she turned and
glanced back at him. Was it with the same intent, guided by the same
strange foreboding? She disappeared, and the voice of a native
orderly who had entered the room unheard recalled him to the reality.
"A letter for you, Captain Sahib," the man said, saluting.
Stafford took the sealed envelope and, tearing it open, ran hastily
over the contents. It was from the Colonel. The subscription, as usual
since the rupture in their relations, was cold and formal.
"I should be glad to see you at once," Colonel Carmichael had written.
"Events occurred yesterday which I have not as yet been able to
discuss with you, but which I fear are likely to have the most serious
consequences. In the present weakened condition of our garrison, we
can afford to run no risks. Nicholson is with me here. Your presence
would simplify matters as regards forming our plans for the future."
Stafford turned to the waiting soldier.
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