AN ABDICATION.
“Mab, are you awake?”
“Go away; I hate you!” was the muffled reply. Mabel had thrown
herself, dressed, upon her bed, and her face was buried in the pillow.
She shook off Flora’s hand angrily from her shoulder as she spoke.
“Why, Mab, I only wanted to tell you---- What have I done?”
Mabel sat up and pushed back her hair. “They let you go and help with
him,” she said venomously, “and they kept me out. Dick called you--I
heard him myself. And they wouldn’t let me come. Eustace held my
hands. And you went--and helped them.”
“I didn’t do anything but hold things for them, really. Dr Tighe did
it all, and your brother helped him. I had to go when they called me.”
“Did he look at you--recognise you? If he did, I’ll never forgive
you.”
“No, not a bit. But, Mab----”
“I’m glad of that, at any rate. And you came to say I might go to him
now?”
“Yes, Mr Burgrave spoke to Dr Tighe. But don’t say you’re glad he
didn’t look at me. It will make you miserable all your life to have
even thought it.”
“Why, what is the matter?” asked Mabel impatiently, as Flora barred
her way to the door.
“I can’t let you go into the room without realising it. His--his hair
is all burnt off, Mab, and he’s fearfully scorched. You can’t see
anything but bandages, and he is quite insensible.”
“It’s only the shock. He must come round soon.”
“That’s not all. I must tell you. The explosion seems to have
paralysed all his faculties. He is deaf and dumb and blind--for the
time.”
“Oh, for the time, of course. But he won’t be deaf when I speak to
him. Don’t keep me here, Flora. I want to wake him.”
Flora drew back reluctantly, and Mabel ran across the courtyard. At
the door of the sick-room, which was a makeshift structure erected
since the earthquake at the corner where two verandahs joined, she met
Dr Tighe.
“So I hear you want to play at nursing a little, Miss North?” he said,
not unkindly, but by no means as if he regarded her intention as
serious. “Do you think you won’t fall asleep? Can you keep cool,
whatever happens? Not that you could do much harm if you went into
hysterics,” he added, half to himself. “The poor fellow wouldn’t be
disturbed.”
Even this slighting estimate of her powers did not provoke Mabel to
protest. “What have I to do?” she asked, with determined calmness, and
the doctor looked at her curiously.
“I want you to sit beside him and watch for any sound or movement. If
there is the least change, send for me at once. I must spend the night
over at the hospital, but I am leaving my boy in the verandah here,
and he will fetch me whenever you want me.”
“Wait, please. May I speak to him?”
“Who--the boy? Oh, the patient. Yes, of course, as much as you like,
if it will ease your mind. Didn’t I tell you that he couldn’t hear
you?” He glanced sharply at her, but she turned away from him, and
went into the room without saying anything, leaving him puzzled. “I
feel a bit of a brute,” he said to himself, as he crossed to the
passage leading into the hospital, “but she must keep up. I don’t want
her on my hands in hysterics, in addition to all the rest.”
Mabel sat down quietly beside the bed. A smoky native lamp shed a
flickering light through the little room, rendering dimly visible the
swathed figure which lay absolutely motionless in its shroud of
bandages. Of the face nothing could be seen, and the bandaged hands
were stretched straight at the sides. A great terror seized Mabel.
Surely he must be dead? She laid her hand timidly on the wrist nearest
her, so lightly as scarcely to touch it, but the contact served to
reassure her. He was still living, and she resigned herself to her
silent and solitary watch.
At first she was so much absorbed in listening and looking for the
sounds and movements which never came, that she had no thought of her
surroundings, but after a time they forced themselves upon her notice.
The deathlike silence all around, the presence of that shrouded form
upon the bed, the uncertain light--all combined to strain her nerves
to their utmost tension. She would have risen and walked about, in the
hope of breaking the spell, but she discovered that she had no power
to stir. The semi-darkness was full of shadows for which she could not
account, and small mysterious noises sounded in her ears like
thunder-claps. Over and over again she thought she saw her patient
move, only to find that her eyes had deceived her, and the breathless
expectation did but increase the strain upon her. By degrees her
terror grew almost uncontrollable, but she fought against it doggedly.
Never in her life had she placed such constraint upon herself. The
door was so near, two steps would take her to it, and once outside she
would be safe from the shadows and the silence. But she gripped her
chair hard with both hands, and at last the impulse passed away. Next
came the temptation to scream--to shriek, sing, do anything to break
the stillness. She was shaking from head to foot; it seemed utterly
impossible to check her sobs, yet she succeeded in crushing them down.
The struggle was a fearful one, and she felt that her self-command
would not hold out much longer. She looked at her watch, and resolved
to remain quiet for five minutes, whatever happened. When the five
minutes was over, she renewed the resolution for another five minutes,
and so on, and the expedient was successful for a time. Then it became
more and more difficult to maintain, and the periods of five minutes
dwindled to four, three, and finally one. She gazed at the watch
aghast. It was impossible that so much agony and mental stress could
have been crowded into one minute. But the watch had not stopped, and
she gave up the conflict, and burst into tears.
“Fitz!” she wailed, dropping on her knees beside the bed. “Fitz!”
Surely he would hear. Georgia had said that Dick’s voice would reach
her if she were dead. But in this case there was no answer.
“Oh, Fitz, speak to me!” she entreated. “I am so frightened.”
The piteous voice died away. It must have availed to pierce the
silence which enwrapped him, she thought, and yet he would not speak.
Could it be that he was resolved to punish her for her coldness in the
past, to humble her pride in return for all she had made him suffer?
Or perhaps he did not understand even yet.
“Fitz,” she murmured softly, “I love you.”
No sooner had the words escaped her lips than she sprang up aghast.
They seemed to be echoed back by the walls on every side, to be
whispered by mocking sprites, to clang like the strokes of great
bells. “I love you! I love you!” The air was full of them, and she was
overwhelmed with shame.
“Oh, if you don’t hate me, say just one word!” she sobbed. “I am so
ashamed, but you said you loved me. Oh, Fitz, it’s not like you to be
so unkind! And I thought you would be glad to know.”
Surely he must answer now?--but she sobbed on, and there came no word
of comfort.
“Well, Miss North, and what’s all this about?” said Dr Tighe.
He stood at the door, looking in at her, and Mabel sprang to her feet
and confronted him, shaking with sobs, her face stained with tears.
“It’s--it’s only--I was speaking to him, and he won’t answer,” she
managed to say.
“But I told you he wouldn’t. He can’t. Why, he doesn’t even hear you.”
“I thought I could make him hear.”
“As well try to wake the dead. No, no; what an idiot I am!” as she
recoiled from him in terror. “Purely a figure of speech, nothing more.
Now I will take a turn of watching, and do you go and get some rest.”
“Oh no, I won’t leave him. I am not a bit tired.”
“Go to Mrs North. She can’t sleep either, and she and her ayah have
got some coffee for you. It will soon be daylight, and you had better
rest while you can.”
“As if I should think of leaving him!” repeated Mabel in scorn.
“I won’t be defied by my own nurses, Miss North. If you don’t go
peaceably, I’ll have you gently assisted out, and once outside this
room you won’t get in again.”
“Oh, how can you be so unkind!” sobbed Mabel, breaking down abjectly.
“I am not unkind. I want you to help me a great deal with the poor
fellow, and that’s why I insist upon your resting now. You shall come
on duty again in four hours or so, and I’ll promise faithfully to call
you if there’s any change in the meantime.”
Slowly and reluctantly Mabel left the room, and went along the
verandah to Georgia’s door. Georgia was sitting up in a long cane
chair, and welcomed her cheerfully.
“Come in, Mab. It seems absurdly early to be up, but I knew how cold
and miserable you would feel after being awake all night. This is the
very last of the coffee. Dr Tighe has lavished it upon us recklessly
on the chance of our being relieved to-day, so make the most of it.”
“I couldn’t touch it, Georgie!” with a gesture of disgust.
“Oh yes, you can, to please me. After you have drunk it you shall lie
down on my bed, and if you can’t sleep, we will talk. Why, you are
shivering! Put on that shawl, and now drink the coffee,” and Mabel
obeyed.
“Let me stay here, Georgie,” she said when she had finished, sitting
down on the floor, and laying her head on Georgia’s knee. “I like to
be close to you. You understand things.” Georgia stroked her hair
softly, and she went on, “Other people don’t understand--even Flora,
or Dr Tighe. And Dick was horrid last night. The only person who seems
to know how I feel is poor Eustace--he understands.”
“Yes, he has suffered himself.”
“And that is my fault. But I never knew how it hurt till now, Georgie,
or I couldn’t have done it, and now that I do know, it’s too late. I
know now how you feel about Dick, because of what I feel about _him_.
I can’t bear any one else to do a single thing for him, and if he
became conscious again while I was away, I should be ready to kill Dr
Tighe. Isn’t it strange that to-day I would give anything to hear him
say the things that made me so angry a little while ago, and that I
have said things in his ear to-night that would have made him
perfectly happy then, and now he can’t even hear them? Oh, Georgie, if
he should never hear them--if he should die without recovering his
senses!”
“We can only hope--and pray,” said Georgia gently.
“I know, but you must pray--I can’t. You have always been kind to him,
at any rate; I haven’t. I don’t deserve that he should get well, I
know--but I do want him so much. When I think that he has been wasting
his love upon me all this time, while I was too proud to take it, I
feel it would serve me right if I never had the chance of telling him
how glad and thankful I am to have it. But I do love him, Georgie,
indeed I do.”
“I know you do, Mab,” said Georgia, still passing her hand softly over
Mabel’s hair. She would not allow a word of reproach to cross her
lips, but in her heart there was a little tumult of wifely
indignation. Mabel was so much engrossed with Fitz Anstruther as not
even to remember that her brother had taken his life in his hand and
gone straight into the enemy’s camp. “But it is only natural. Perhaps
I should do the same in her place,” thought Georgia, and continued the
pleasant restful movement. Before very long Mabel was asleep, and she
was still crouched upon the floor, leaning against Georgia, when Dr
Tighe came to say that she might take her second turn of watching in
the sick-room. She awoke with a start, while he was talking to Georgia
in an excited whisper.
“Yes, Mrs North, I’m certain there’s something up. Two or three
distinct _jirgahs_ seem to be going on in the enemy’s lines, and
though they began to make preparations for fighting two hours ago,
they don’t get any forrarder. And we are almost certain that there’s a
movement of some kind in progress at the back of Gun Hill. There may
be artillery there, taking up a position, or possibly the whole relief
column is preparing to occupy the heights. If it’s anything of the
sort, it’s all due to that marvellous husband of yours, whom I’d make
Viceroy this very hour if I had my way.”
“And he would be excessively unhappy at Government House, and the
cause of extreme misery to every one else,” laughed Georgia; but
Mabel, who had been listening to their talk half asleep, sprang up.
“Oh, Doctor, is there any change? Is he awake?”
“No change whatever, I’m sorry to say. Have your breakfast before you
come across, and then I’ll leave you in charge while I go my morning
rounds in the hospital.”
Very soon Mabel was at her post again, wondering at the horror which
night and silence had lent to the rough-walled, commonplace little
room. The full blaze of sunlight never reached this particular corner
of the courtyard until late in the afternoon, but the hole which had
been left as a window admitted a certain amount of light. Through it
also there came pleasantly distant sounds of life and movement from
the other parts of the fort. As Mabel sat with her eyes fixed upon the
bed, the murmur of different noises lulled her into a state very
nearly resembling sleep, and once again she thought she saw a
movement, only to discover that it was merely fancy. Another period of
intense vigilance passing gradually into semi-consciousness followed,
the mere effort of concentrating her gaze on one object inclining her
to slumber, and then there came a sudden awakening. Was it thunder, or
another earthquake, or what could be the meaning of those tremendous
crashes, each of which was welcomed by cries of delight from the
walls?
“Guns, I suppose,” said Mabel to herself, still half asleep. “Perhaps
it will wake him.” She bent forward eagerly, but there was still no
movement, and she sat down again disappointed. The crashes and the
shouts of joy overhead still continued, but she made no attempt to
learn what was going on, not so much from reluctance to leave her post
as from sheer lack of interest. Suddenly there came a different sound,
a singing, shrieking noise, deepening into a groan as it came nearer.
She had never heard it before, and yet she knew by instinct what it
meant.
“A shell!” she cried, springing up involuntarily. However long she may
live, she will never remember that moment without a blush of bitter
humiliation, for she sprang up to run away. But the impulse was only
momentary. Even before she could turn towards the door a rush of
incredulous shame swept over her and made her throw herself on her
knees by the bed. She clasped one of the bandaged hands in hers to
give herself courage. “I will die with him!” she said, and burying her
face in the coverlet, waited. It seemed to her that she waited for
hours, and yet only the minutest fraction of time can have elapsed
between her recognition of the nature of the sound and the concussion
which followed--a deafening, rending noise, which seemed to comprise
within itself all imaginable sounds of terror, and which was
intensified a hundredfold by the echoes it evoked from the walls of
the fort. To Mabel it felt as if the world was coming to an end, and
she was being buried in the ruins, but at this point she lost
consciousness, and knew no more until she found Dr Tighe and Flora
dashing water into her face, rubbing her hands, and using various
other means to revive her. Her first impression was of a blaze of
intense light, and it only dawned upon her gradually that the roof of
the room and the two walls facing the courtyard were gone, their
shattered fragments lying in heaps around.
“I’ll never forgive myself!” cried Dr Tighe frantically. “What
business had I to be trespassing upon the walls, just to watch the
practice our fellows were making, and leaving my patients to be killed
without me? The moment I saw the Nalapuri horse trying to escape
across the canal, and the gun on the hill turned round to cover them,
I said, ‘We’ll have a shell dumped into us in another minute,’ and
sure enough we had.”
“What was it, then?” asked Mabel feebly.
“Thank God you’re alive yet! ’Twas one of our own shells that fell
short, and as nearly as possible wrecked the whole place. I made sure
you were done for when Miss Graham and I got you out.”
“Oh, but what about him--is he safe?” cried Mabel, starting up and
pushing her way into the corner where the bed stood. Its position had
protected it to a wonderful extent from the falling timbers of the
roof and walls, but it was covered with smaller fragments, and
enveloped in a haze of dust which was only now dispersing. But Mabel
cared nothing for the dust or falling plaster.
“He’s talking!” she shrieked to Dr Tighe, who followed her, stumbling
over the rubbish on the floor. “Hush, oh, hush! I must hear what he
says.”
Dr Tighe held his breath, and Flora quickly waved back the curious
servants and others who had been attracted to the spot by the bursting
of the shell, and withdrew with them out of earshot. Mabel, kneeling
beside the bed, was listening hungrily to the words which poured from
the patient’s lips, not spoken with any apparent difficulty, but
rattled off in quick low tones.
“Awfully good job those Sikh fellows are making such a noise on the
wall. I’m sure I dislodged something then, but I didn’t hear it fall.
Perhaps it fell on our friend down below. Rather a startler for him,
but he’ll be waiting for me. Hope he looks in the wrong place. This is
the best point to drop from, I should think. Hope and trust there are
no sharp bricks and things to come down upon. It’s creepy work. One,
two, three, and away! So far, so good. Now to stalk our friend. If
he’s trying to stalk me at the same moment, our heads will probably
meet with a bang. I’ll have my knife out--revolver would be too risky.
Ah--h--h--h--what’s that? The powder-bag, I’ll swear; but I thought it
was the man. Now if only I knew where you are at this moment, my
friend, I would drag your bags to a safe distance, and give you a nice
little hunt for them. But it would be awkward if you came on me from
behind, so I’ll wait here. Wonder if my eyes shine in the dark like a
cat’s? That would give him rather a turn; he might think it was a
tiger. Hullo! back already, are you, and another lot of powder too?
Now if you’ll only leave it behind you, and retire gracefully for the
moment, we’ll whip it up over the wall in no time, and requisition it
for her Majesty’s service. Oh, that’s it, is it? Well, you are a cool
hand, I must say, to make your bed on a heap of powder-bags! But I
can’t stay watching you until you choose to make a move. I might
sneeze, you know, so I’m afraid I must trouble you. Now then! just
hand over that knife. Oh, that’s your little game, is it? This is not
playing fair. Firearms not allowed on any account. I say!”
There was a pause, a sigh, and the voice went on again.
“I never guessed these bricks would be so knobby. It’s rather rough
negotiating them without any boots. Awfully good job those Sikh
fellows are making such a noise on the wall. I’m sure I dislodged
something then----” Mabel lifted an agonised face to the doctor.
“He’s saying the same things over again. What does it all mean?”
“He is going over the last two or three minutes before the explosion.
I suppose the thoughts and impressions of that time have fixed
themselves in his mind, which seems to have been set working again by
the shock of the bursting shell. Very likely he will go on like this.”
“What! Always?” cried Mabel, in horror.
“We’ll hope not, though I have known cases in which the effect of such
a shock has been permanent. The brain seems unable ever to receive any
other impression afterwards. But he can’t well go on talking at this
rate long, and when he’s exhausted he may sink into a stupor, and
emerge in a more rational state of mind. I wonder whether his hearing
has returned? Anstruther!”
There was no answer. “You try,” said the doctor.
“Fitz!” cried Mabel, her tones sharpened by anxiety; but the low
monotonous voice rambled on, and there was no response to be
discerned.
“We can’t do anything. He must go on until he is tired,” said Dr
Tighe. “And you had better go on the sick-list yourself, Miss North.
You’re a good deal knocked about.”
To her astonishment, Mabel found that this was the case. Bruises and
flesh-wounds of which she had not been conscious were painfully
evident on her arms and shoulders, and her dress was torn in a dozen
places. But she refused to leave her post until the time Dr Tighe had
appointed her was over; and perceiving that she would not be able to
rest while Fitz was in this state, he consented to do what he could
for her on the spot, and allowed her to remain for the present. It was
almost more heart-rending to listen to the often-repeated story of the
last few minutes of consciousness Fitz had known, than it had been to
see him lying silent, but she remained at her post until the low
hurrying tones became intermittent, and finally ceased altogether. By
this time the servants had contrived, by means of screens and loose
boards, partially to repair, or at least to conceal, the dilapidation
of the room, for Dr Tighe declined to attempt the removal of the
patient, assuring Mabel cheerfully that he was in the safest place in
the fort. Even if the relieving column should chance to drop in a few
more shells, all the probabilities were against their falling in the
same spot. Thus assured, Mabel consented to allow her own hurts to be
looked to, and swallowed with unexpected docility the draught which
the doctor gave her. She did so the more readily that she began to be
conscious she could not keep up much longer. The vigil and terror of
the night, the alarm and anxiety of the day, seemed to have robbed her
of every vestige of strength, and she had no mind to allow herself to
be ousted from the post which was hers by right. If she was to
continue in charge of Fitz, she must contrive to get the doctor on her
side, and not alienate him by opposition to his orders.
This time she had no difficulty in obtaining rest. Her eyes closed
almost as soon as she threw herself on her bed, and she slept without
waking until the evening. When at length she awoke, she sprang up in
alarm. Why had no one called her? It was actually getting dark, and
the courtyard looked utterly deserted. What had happened? She threw on
her dress, and ran along the verandah to the sick-room. Just as she
reached it, the screen which served as a door was moved aside, and
Dick and Dr Tighe came out, accompanied by a sunburnt elderly man in
khaki campaigning uniform.
“My sister,” said Dick laconically. “We have been taking Colonel
Slaney to see Anstruther, Mab. Glad to say he thinks he’ll do.”
“Oh, really, really?” cried Mabel, clasping her hands, and looking at
the surgeon with eyes suddenly overflowing with tears.
“Well, he’ll never be much of a beauty again,” was the gruff reply.
“Oh, what does that signify? His mind--will that be all right?”
“I hope so--if he can be kept from any more shocks. That shell to-day
seems to have been a kill or cure business--I shouldn’t recommend any
more of the same sort. You were there at the time--stuck to him--eh?
Very plucky thing to do. Well, you just let him alone now. Don’t try
to excite his feelings, or make him recognise you. Give the brain time
to recover itself.”
“But you are sure it will be all right? Oh, I can’t thank you properly
for telling me this--but he will get quite well?”
“Very ungrateful if he doesn’t, with such a nurse. Don’t go and wear
yourself to a shadow looking after him while he’s insensible. You’ll
need all your cheerfulness and good spirits when he recovers
consciousness.”
Mabel looked dumbly at Dr Tighe. What did this warning portend? The
little man answered her mute appeal with friendly alacrity.
“At the best he’ll be rather badly scarred, Miss North, but we hope
and trust there’ll be nothing else the matter. Colonel Slaney doesn’t
mean to imply that you would mind the scars, or that the poor fellow
would care about them for his own sake, but it’s likely he will for
yours.”
“I see. Thank you for telling me. I shall know what to do now,” said
Mabel, quite calmly, though the screen trembled where her fingers were
gripping it.
“Buck up, Queen Mab!” said Dick kindly, lingering behind the other two
to give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Never say die!”
She caught his hand and wrung it, reading in his action an apology for
his hasty speech of the night before, and he smiled at her cheerily as
she disappeared behind the screen. Fitz was still lying in the state
of stupor in which she had left him, and she sat down beside the bed,
and tried to lay her plans for the future. As she recalled what
Colonel Slaney had said, it was natural that the man himself should
recur to her mind.
“Why, we must be relieved!” she said to herself. “How stupid of me
never to have thought of it. Colonel Slaney belongs to the column, of
course. And Dick has come back safe, too. And I took it all for
granted, and nobody said anything. Where can Georgie be--and Flora?”
Wondering again at the calm way in which the three men had ignored the
almost incredible fact of the ending of the siege, she tried to recall
her conversation with them, in order to see whether any allusion had
been made to it, and suddenly remembered what had struck her vaguely
at the time, the stranger’s manner. He had not addressed her in the
way in which long experience had prepared her to be addressed; in
fact, she missed the peculiar deference to which she was accustomed
from the other sex.
“He spoke to me just as if I was any other woman!” she said to
herself, with a _naïveté_ which would have struck her as laughable
in any one else. “He was kind and encouraging--patronising, almost. Do
I look very dreadful, I wonder?” She cast a puzzled glance at her limp
cotton gown. “Still, even then, it’s not usually my clothes that
people think about. How Dick would laugh! He’ll say that the
celebrated smile failed of its effect for once.”
Presently an unexpected solution of the mystery occurred to her.
“Perhaps I’m getting old and ugly, and people won’t care to talk to me
any more. How dreadful to have to ask men to do things, instead of
their rushing to do them of their own accord! It will take a long time
to get accustomed to it. Oh, and perhaps Fitz won’t care for me now!
If he leaves off loving me just as I have found out that I love him,
what shall I do? I told Georgie once that I would give anything to
care for any one as she cared for Dick, but I never thought of not
being loved in return. There was some fairy tale about a princess who
had no heart, and could not get one without giving everything she had
in exchange for it, and that’s how I feel. But how dreadful to get the
heart, and then find that it’s not wanted! If he cares for me still, I
don’t mind if I never speak to another man again, but if he
doesn’t----!”
There was a step outside, and Flora looked cautiously round the corner
of the screen, then advanced, bearing a tray.
“Oh, Mab, you must have thought we had forgotten you, you poor thing!”
she murmured, in subdued tones. “But you were fast asleep when I
looked into your room, and we thought it would be kinder not to wake
you. We were all in the mess-room verandah to welcome General
Cranstoun and the officers of the column. It was lovely to see them
come in; I did wish you were there. And they are all so kind, you
can’t think! As soon as ever they heard what we were reduced to, they
sent their servants for all sorts of private stores, and gave us
everything they could think of that we should like. Look! here’s a cup
of tea--strong tea--for you, with milk in it, and I have made you some
sandwiches of potted meat. Isn’t it good of them? And they say such
nice things about the way we have stood the siege, and they are so
interested in the boy, and they admire your brother and Mrs North so
much. It’s delightful to hear them.”
“But what has happened to the enemy?” asked Mabel.
“Oh, most of them have surrendered, but Bahram Khan and a body of
horse escaped, and got safely to Dera Gul. Major North just succeeded
in saving the Amir, and he’s in the fort now. Part of the column has
gone on to keep an eye on Dera Gul, but the rest will camp here for
to-night. Some of the officers are coming in after dinner--doesn’t it
sound funny to say that again? You will come and talk to them, won’t
you?”
“I’ll just come and see them--it would seem rude not to go near them
after all they have done for us--but I can’t leave him for long.
Flora!” suddenly, “do you see anything different in me?”
“You are dreadfully pale and tired, and your dress looks as if you had
put it on in a hurry, and your hair isn’t very nicely done,” said
Flora hesitatingly. “Is that what you mean?”
“No--not quite. If--if you were a man, should you still think of me as
Queen Mab?”
Flora hesitated still, then suddenly flew at Mabel, and kissed her
with great vehemence. “What does it signify?” she demanded. “I shall
love you just as well, and so will _he_, and lots of people will love
you a great deal more. You’re just as lovely, really, as ever you
were.”
“Then there is something,” cried Mabel. “What is it?”
“I--I don’t know, exactly. It’s something gone. I have noticed it
going, since--I think since Mr Anstruther came back from looking for
your brother. It was a sort of assurance--I can’t think of the proper
word--as if you knew that every one admired you, and you had a right
to their services. Yes, that was it. It took every one captive, you
know, Mab.”
“And now?” asked Mabel, in a low voice.
“Now? Oh, it makes me miserable to see you. You look as if you wanted
people to be kind to you, poor darling.”
“Only one person,” whispered Mabel. “Do you think he will?”
“As if you doubted him! Fraud! If he isn’t, I’ll give Fred up, and
come and live with you in a hermitage. There!”
“Then I don’t mind. I have lost my kingdom, and found a heart.”