As they walked across the garden to the house the nightingales were singing in the soft still air of night.
The Governor, who was walking on the terrace, greeted his guests, and they passed into the house, which was all brilliantly lit to receive them.
“This is your last night with us, so I have asked you here to dine with me,” said the old man.
“My last night?” Her voice was full of wonder and sadness.
“You surely will not be sorry to leave the soil?”
“Ah! but you and Brightcoat are here. I would much rather stay. Besides, my heart is in the garden yet, and here with the jewels that I brought to you. Oh, you have been my friend; and there is none other. Where else can I go? Let me still live in the little hut, with the freedom I have bought to-night.”
But he shook his head and smiled as they sat down to dinner just alone.
“You imagine you have become attached to the hut. But there are other and better places, believe me.”
“And does the way back lead as I came?”
“Pretty much so, I believe.”