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"Why should he send me these send me this?" she asked Jerry-Jo, who had brought the package to her. "He always wanted you to have it. I told you that; he remembers, I suppose, and wants you to have it. He said it was more yours than his." To test her Jerry-Jo was hiding behind Travers. "I'd walk a hundred miles over the rock on bare feet to thank him," the girl replied, her big eyes shining.
Travers, never much of a reader, was by no means a despiser of learning, and he soon took to historical and archaeological researches with the ardour of a man who must always throw energy into any pursuit that occasion presents as an escape from indolence. Indolent Leopold Travers never could be.
He was received there by an old servant, who told him that Nehal Singh had gone out riding before sunrise, but was expected to return shortly. "The Rajah Sahib remembers my coming?" Travers asked. "Yes, Sahib. The Rajah Sahib commanded that the palace should be at the Sahib's disposal while he waits." The idea suited Travers excellently.
He understood and recognized the fighting spirit, and his admiration kindled and mingled with a biting, cruel grief. He watched her as she walked proudly erect at Travers' side, and his heart ached.
Travers exclaimed, staring at him. He then broke into a discordant laugh. "Why, my good Stafford, they'll have to have me, whether they want me or no. Lois is mine mine, I tell you; and that fellow, Nicholson, had better look to himself " "You are beside yourself, Travers. Nicholson saved her life. What do you mean by saying she is yours?" "She is to be my wife.
Thereby hangs some tale, I feel sure." "Why, yes," said Lord Robert, and he held her hand. Then he looked at me with his eyebrow up. "But won't you introduce me to Miss Travers? To my great surprise she seems to have forgotten me." I laughed, and Lady Verningham introduced us, and he sat down beside us, and every one began tea. Lady Verningham had such a look in her eye!
"A gain to what?" asked Sir Peter, testily. "To his country? about which I don't believe he cares a brass button." To this assertion Leopold Travers replied warmly, and was not less warmly backed by Mrs. Campion.
They cannot conceive what I suffer when curious visitors insist, as they do every day, on spelling out the words from our windows, and asking me countless questions about them! Sometimes I meet the Curries about the village, and as they pass me with averted heads I feel myself growing crimson. Travers is almost always with Lilian now.
As she spoke they dashed suddenly into an avenue of high trees through whose branches the moonlight played fantastic, uncanny shadows on the white road. Travers' horse shied violently, and for some minutes his work was cut out for him in pacifying the excited animal. When they were once more bowling smoothly over the open plain, he glanced down at the girl beside him. She was smiling to herself.
He let the paper fall on the coverlet and went on reposing as before. It was a sick man's repose. Mrs. Travers in the armchair, with her hands on the arm-rests, had a great dignity of attitude. "I intend to go," she declared after a time. "You intend to go," repeated Mr. Travers in a feeble, deliberate voice. "Really, it doesn't matter what you decide to do. All this is of so little importance.
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