“Good-bye,” she said, simply, and she held out her hand, placing it afterwards upon Captain Hilton’s arm, as if she wished him to escort her down to the landing-stage.
This he did, followed by Chumbley, and on reaching the boat the rowers leaped to their places with the alacrity of well-drilled and disciplined men.
The Princess stood aside till the last of her attendants was in her place, and then she turned to Hilton.
“Good-bye,” she said.
“Good-bye, Princess,” he replied, shaking her hand. “I hope we shall have orders to come to your help.”
“So do I,” cried Chumbley, as he took the Princess’s hand in turn; and as he uttered his earnest words he involuntarily raised her hand to his lips and kissed it with profound respect.
The Inche Maida’s eyes flashed as she glanced at him, but they turned directly after with rather a regretful look at Hilton, as she seated herself beneath the awning. Then giving a signal with her hand, the rowers’ paddles dipped, the swift boat darted out into the stream, was deftly turned, and began to ascend rapidly; the two young men standing upon the stage where the guard had presented arms, both of them a good deal impressed.
“I say, old fellow,” cried Chumbley, speaking with animation, “that’s an uncommonly fine woman, in spite of her coffee skin.”
“Yea; you seemed to think so,” replied Hilton, laughing.
“Did I?” said Chumbley, with his eyes fixed on the retreating boat.