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Updated: June 24, 2025
In the same paper certain promotions and distinctions on account of the recent Mahsud campaign were reprinted from the Gazette. Captain Henry Warkworth's brevet majority was among them.
And Sir Wilfrid walked along, slashing at the railings with his stick, as though the action relieved him. Julie Le Breton quietly resumed: "I understand that Lord Henry and Captain Warkworth's father went through the Indian Mutiny together, and Captain Warkworth has some letters " "Oh, I dare say I dare say," muttered Sir Wilfrid. "What's this man home for just now?"
Julie snatched the paper and looked at the telegrams. High up in the first column was the one she sought. "CAIRO, June 12. Great regret is felt here at the sudden and tragic news of Major Warkworth's death from fever, which seems to have occurred at a spot some three weeks' distance from the coast, on or about May 25.
She left her chair and began to pace the little terrace on Julie's arm. Her dragging step, the mournful black of her dress, the struggle between youth and death in her sharpened face, made her a tragic presence. Julie could hardly bear it, while all the time she, too, was secretly and breathlessly waiting for Warkworth's last words. Lady Blanche returned, and Julie hurried away.
The mission would proceed to Mokembe as soon as possible, but of two officers who on the ground of especial knowledge would form part of it, under Captain Warkworth's command, one was at present in Canada and the other at the Cape. It would, therefore, hardly be possible for the mission to start from the coast for the interior before the beginning of May.
The cab rolled away, and Delafield walked on. Half-past seven, striking from all the Paris towers! And Warkworth's intention in the morning was to leave the Gare de Lyon at 7.15. But it seemed he was now bound, at 7.30, for the Gare de Sceaux, from which point of departure it was clear that no reasonable man would think of starting for the Eternal City. "D'abord,
He did not for one moment believe that General Warkworth's letters had been the subject of the conversation he had witnessed that morning in the Park, nor that filial veneration had had anything whatever to say to it. Julie Le Breton gave him her hand. "Thank you very much," she said, gravely and softly. Sir Wilfrid at the moment before had not meant to press it at all.
When he suffered he merely said to himself, steadily, that time would heal the smart for both of them. "Only one thing would be absolutely fatal for all of us that I should break with Aileen." Julie read these obscure processes in Warkworth's mind with perfect clearness.
Here, indeed, was the child of Warkworth's picture the innocent, unknowing child, whom their passion had sacrificed and betrayed. She could see the face now, as it lay piteous, in Warkworth's hand. Then she raised her eyes to the original. And as it looked at her with timidity and nascent love her own heart beat wildly, now in remorse, now in a reviving jealousy.
As to Warkworth's replies, which she was sometimes allowed to see, Lady Blanche, who had been a susceptible girl, and the heroine of several "affairs," was secretly and strongly of opinion that men's love-letters, at any rate, were poor things nowadays, compared with what they had been. But Aileen was more than satisfied with them. How busy he must be, and with such important business!
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