She had never before realised that so lay the very essence of love. No plannings, no cuttings, no contrivings. All things simplified, clarified.
It was a wonderful fortnight. The fire, after a brief recrudescence, died down, leaving the slums of the city in ruins, but purified. So cholera, most mysterious of diseases, abated, disappeared from the town; and even in the camps, exposed to the miasma of the Lake of Death, was shorn of half its terrors. And there was a stir as of coming life in the military backwaters. Marmaduke, his face alight, would say that the one thing needful to perfect happiness must be close at hand; for that was the curious thing about finding yourself in love--you wanted to be up and doing all the time.
And so one day when, instead of Marmaduke, Andrew Fraser--long since let into the secret of Maryam Effendi--appeared with a note, Marrion tried to echo Romeo's words without any reservations, and to be content if he would have it so. For the note ran as follows:
"Heart's Delight,
"The news has come! We are off to the Crimea. I feel that for the first time in my life I am going to have my chance--or, rather, we are going to have our chance, for I shall take you with me, never fear. I wish, dear, your real body were, small enough to go into my knapsack, but the heart that beats under this uniform coat is large enough to hold your love. I must be very busy, but I will find time in a day or two for perfect happiness.
"Yours ever,
"Marmaduke.
"P.S.--I must get you to box my ears before I go. It will keep me straight and make me what England expects.--M. M.
"P.P.S.--Andrew says he is taking my stockings for you to mend. Forgive us poor men bodies.--M."
So she sat darning the stockings and trying to prevent a sinking at the heart.