But that first battery--only seven hundred yards from the Moree Bastion--had a struggle for dear life. The dawn showed but one gun in position against all the concentrated fire of the bastion which, during the night, had been lured into a useless duel with the old defense batteries above. Only one gun at dawn; but by noon--despite assault and battery--there were five, answering roar for roar. Then for the first time began that welcome echo: the sound of crumbling walls, the grumbling roll of falling stones and mortar. By sunset the gradually diminishing fire from the bastion had ceased, and the bastion itself was a heap of ruins. By this time the four guns in the left section of the battery were keeping down the fire from the Cashmere gate, and so protecting the real advance through the gardens. That was the first day of the siege, and Kate Erlton, sitting in her little tent, which had been moved into a quiet spot, as she had begged to be allowed to stay on the Ridge until some news came of the man to whom she owed so much, thought with a shudder she could not help, of what it must mean to many an innocent soul shut up within those walls. It was bad enough here, where the very tent seemed to shake. It must be terrible down there beside the heating guns, in the roar and the rattle, the grime and the ache and strain of muscle. But in the city--even in Sri Anunda's garden----!
So, naturally enough, she wondered once more what could have become of the man who had gone back to find her nearly ten days before.
"May I come in? John Nicholson."
She would have recognized the voice even without the name, for it was not one to be forgotten. Nor was the owner, as he stood before her, a letter in his hand.
"I have heard from Mr. Douglas, Mrs. Erlton," he said. "It is in the Persian character, so I presume it is no use showing it to you. But it concerns you chiefly. He wants to know if you are safe. I have to answer it immediately. Have you any message you would like to send?"
"Any message?" she echoed. "Only that he must come back at once, of course."
John Nicholson looked at her calmly.
"I shall say nothing of the kind," he replied. "It is best for a man to decide such matters for himself."
She flushed up hotly. "I had not the slightest intention of dictating to Mr.--Mr. Douglas, General Nicholson; but considering how much he has already sacrificed for my sake----"
"You had better let him do as he likes, my dear madam," interrupted the General, with a sudden kindly smile, which, however, faded as quickly as it came, leaving his face stern. "He, like many another man, has sacrificed too much for women, Mrs. Erlton; so if ever you can make up to him for some of the pain, do so--he is worth it. Good-by. I'll tell him that you are safe; but that in spite of that, he has my permission to go ahead and kill--the more the better."