That night brought Tom's stay at Meerut to a close. Hearing, on the following morning, that Grace was at Lucknow, and that as she had several more visits to pay there was not the least chance of her returning home for some considerable time, he could no longer be persuaded to delay. Early in the forenoon his camp was struck, and he followed it towards sundown; Maud and Trixy, with two or three young officers, riding out with him for some little distance.
When he insisted at last upon their drawing rein, Maud, who was riding in front with him, looked into his face with steady eyes.
'Good-bye, Tom,' she said. 'What message to Grace?'
'Will you take it if I send it?'
'Certainly,' holding out her hand.
'Thank you,' said Tom, grasping it warmly. 'Give her my dear love, Maud.'
'I will. Anything more?'
'Tell her,' hoarsely, 'that, whatever happens, I shall not lose sight of her.'
'Isn't that——?'
'A curious message,' broke in Tom, with a smile. 'I am afraid it is; but I can't help it. Good-bye.'