"I—I don't know how I'm to tell you," she began, speaking very fast. "I believed I had a good reason, and—later, I found out, that I had been misinformed. I was very sorry, and ashamed—too; but you had left Madras, and so I could not apologise. May I apologise now?"
"If I had some idea of what you were apologising for."
"Oh, it was a wicked, unfounded, cruel scandal, and Ada has written to me, and told me all you did for her,—and that was your reward!"
"They say virtue is its own reward," he answered, with a smile. "I have been out of society, and heard no gossip, and I can't for the life of me see how there could be any scandal about Miss Sim and myself. Well, anyway, it's all right now, you and I have put matters straight between us. How do you come to be in these parts?"
"Father and mother went home last March, and—and——" suddenly her voice seemed to fail her.
"So you did not marry Colonel Harris?"
"No, I simply couldn't! I screwed up my courage, and told him so, one day when mother sent us to look at a bungalow. At first, he was incredulous, then shocked, finally—as I was determined, furious;—so was mother. Within an hour she packed up my clothes, and sent me off in a gharry to the chaplain's wife in the Fort, with a letter to ask her to get me into some charitable institution, as my parents disowned me. I believe there were other dreadful things in the letter. Father was kinder, he came to see me and say good-bye, and gave me a little money, and told me to write to him at home to care of Grindlay and Co.—and said, 'this is none of my doing, Barbie—but your mother is too strong for us!'"
"By Jove!" ejaculated Mallender; "strong is not the word——"
"Poor father, he died of heat apoplexy in the Red Sea. Of course, Mrs. Tallboys came to my rescue, and found me this happy home. I've not many friends out here, but those I have, are splendid!"
"I have not many either. Look here, Miss Miller, shall you and I be pals? What do you say?"