"It will be all right, Francis; you need not be afraid. I shall give you a letter for him, and he will be glad to let me go,—and never see me again."
Francis made a noise like "tch, tch, tch." "Oh, Missy, already have we got too much sorrow—will you thrust more upon us—and yourself——?"
"More—sorrow—we could not have," declared his reckless young mistress. "Now for my plans," she continued.
"I want you to send a coolie with a telegram to prepare Nurse Jane. I shall remain in this room to-morrow; sick—and I am sick—and I wish I was dead! At night, when all is still, I intend to ride away down to the railway station. Francis, it is for you to make all the bandobast. I know you will help me. Good-night," and he was dismissed.
By the first streak of dawn, the next morning, Nancy crept out to visit, for the last time, the newest grave. She was so early that no one beheld her, but the birds, and Togo.
During the long hours when Mrs. Hicks was busily engaged in counting glass, china, and cooking pots (for the inventory), or reposing on her beloved bed, Nancy and her ayah were occupied in making final, but secret arrangements. When these were completed, Nancy sat down and wrote two letters. The first was to Mrs. Ffinch,—and began:
Dear kind Finchie,
This is to say, that I am going my own way. Please do not be vexed. You will hear of me at my nurse's in Coimbatore. I feel somehow that I want her, as when I was a small kid, and had had a bad fall; later, I hope to go to England; for much as I adore the hills, I cannot endure them just now. Give my love to all my friends, and please do understand, that I am most grateful to you for your kind offer, to have me with you at Clouds Rest,—and forgive,
Your loving,
Nancy.
Having completed and addressed this, she sat for a long time with a sheet of note-paper before her, resting her head upon her hand, nibbling the penholder, and making up her mind how to frame a letter to Captain Mayne. At last she began, and wrote—rapidly, almost without a pause: