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Updated: May 20, 2025
Rudyard's words seemed to madden her, and there was a look of scrutiny and inquiry in his eyes which she saw and saw nothing else there. There was the inquisition in his look which had been there in their last interview when he had said as plainly as man could say, "What did it mean that letter from Adrian Fellowes?"
Yet if that letter had not fallen into Rudyard's hands we might perhaps have now been on our way to begin life again together. Does that look as though there was some one else that mattered that mattered?" He held himself together with all his power and will. "There is one way, and only one way," he said, firmly. "Rudyard loves you. Begin again with him." His voice became lower.
Barry Whalen had seen Rudyard's danger, but had been unable to do anything. His hands were more than full, his life in danger; but in the instant that he had secured his own safety, he heard the cry of "Baas! Baas!" Then he saw the levelled rifle fall from the hands of the Boer who had aimed at Byng, and its owner collapse in a heap.
There was that strange, distant look of agony in her eyes, that transfiguring look in the face; there was the figure somehow gone slimmer in these few hours; and there was a frail appearance which did not belong to her. As she was about to leave the room to descend the stairs, there came a knock at the door. A bunch of white violets was handed in, with a pencilled note in Rudyard's handwriting.
It lifts a man away from the fret of life, and sets his feet on the heights where lies repose. The peace of the stars crept softly into Rudyard's heart as he galloped gently on to overtake his men. His pulses beat slowly once again, his mind regained its poise. He regretted the oath he uttered, as he left Jasmine; he asked himself if, after all, everything was over and done.
As Ian waited for Rudyard to speak he was conscious that even the words of the silly, futile love-song: "Not like the roses shall our love be, dear Never shall its lovely petals fade, Singing, it will flourish till the world's last year Happy as the song-birds in the glade." Through it all now came Rudyard's voice.
It was the grip of men who knew each other knew each other's faults and weaknesses, yet trusted with a trust which neither disaster nor death could destroy. "My girl if anything happens to me," Barry said. "You may be sure as if she were my own," was Rudyard's reply. "If I go down, find my wife at the Stay Awhile Hospital.
Their alliance was only the durable alliance of those who have seen Death at their door, and together have driven him back. Barry Whalen had regarded Krool as a spy; all Britishers who came and went in the path to Rudyard's door had their doubts or their dislike of him; and to every servant of the household he was a dark and isolated figure.
Yet she talked on gaily to her guests until the men returned from their cigars; as though Penalty and Nemesis were outside even the range of her imagination; as though she could not hear the snap of the handcuffs on Rudyard's or Ian's wrists. Before and after dinner only a few words had passed between her and Rudyard, and that was with people round them.
Now, when she heard of Rudyard's bravery at Wortmann's Drift, a curious thrill of excitement ran through her veins, or it would be truer to say that a sensation new and strange vibrated in her blood.
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