“No, of course not,” he agreed; “but why shouldn't he speak to you? You can't have done anything to offend him except taking up with Forster.”
“It is nothing to do with Captain Forster at all, Mr. Wilson; I—” and she hesitated. “I said something at which he had the right to feel hurt and offended, and he has never given me any opportunity since of saying that I was sorry.”
“I am sure you would not have said anything that he should have been offended about, Miss Hannay; it is not your nature, and I would not believe it whoever told me, not even yourself; so he must be in fault, and, of course, I have nothing more to say about it.”
“He wasn't in fault at all, Mr. Wilson. I can't tell you what I said, but it was very wrong and thoughtless on my part, and I have been sorry for it ever since; and he has a perfect right to be hurt and not to come near me, especially as”—and she hesitated—“as I have acted badly since, and he has no reason for supposing that I am sorry. And now you must not ask me any more about it; I don't know why I have said as much to you as I have, only I know I can trust you, and I like you very much, though I could never like you in the sort of way you would want me to. I wish you didn't like me like that.”
“Oh, never mind me,” he said earnestly. “I am all right, Miss Hannay; I never expected anything, you know, so I am not disappointed, and it has been awfully good of you talking to me as you have, and not getting mad with me for interfering. But I can hear them coming down from the terrace, and I must be off. I am on duty there, you know, now. Bathurst has undertaken double work in that hole. I didn't like it, really; it seemed mean to be getting out of the work and letting him do it all, but he said that he liked work, and I really think he does. I am sure he is always worrying himself because he can't take his share in the firing on the roof; and when he is working he hasn't time to think about it. When he told me that in future he would drive the tunnel our shift himself, he said, 'That will enable you to take your place on the roof, Wilson, and you must remember you are firing for both of us, so don't throw away a shot.' It is awfully rough on him, isn't it? Well, goodby, Miss Hannay,” and Wilson hurried off to the roof.
CHAPTER XVI.
The next four days made a great alteration in the position of the defenders in the fortified house.
The upper story was now riddled by balls, the parapet round the terrace had been knocked away in several places, the gate was in splinters; but as the earth from the tunnel had been all emptied against the sandbags, it had grown to such a thickness that the defense was still good here. But in the wall, against which one of the new batteries had steadily directed its fire, there was a yawning gap, which was hourly increasing in size, and would ere long be practicable for assault. Many of the shots passing through this had struck the house itself. Some of these had penetrated, and the room in the line of fire could no longer be used.
There had been several casualties. The young civilian Herbert had been killed by a shot that struck the parapet just where he was lying. Captain Rintoul had been seriously wounded, two of the natives had been killed by the first shot which penetrated the lower room. Mr. Hunter was prostrate with fever, the result of exposure to the sun, and several others had received wounds more or less severe from fragments of stone; but the fire of the defenders was as steady as at first, and the loss of the natives working the guns was severe, and they no longer ventured to fire from the gardens and shrubberies round the walls.