He stepped out, and Bayle followed, but turned to look at Julia, who gave him one quick look that seemed to say “Good bye,” and then as he stepped out into the verandah he saw her bending over Eaton again.
“Nice little girl that,” said the Captain, as they marched down behind the guards and the wretched men they drove before them almost at the bayonet’s point.
Bayle bowed.
“Sweet and innocent, and all that. Really, Mr Bayle, I agree with my wife.”
“Indeed!” said Bayle.
“Yes; she thinks that at any cost her friends ought to have kept her in England, and not brought her here.”
Christie Bayle made no reply, for he was thinking of Philip Eaton lying wounded up at the house, and Julia installing herself as his nurse.
But she was not bending over him at that time, for no sooner had the last of the party gone, than Crellock said something fiercely to Hallam.
“No, no, never mind,” the latter said, savagely.
“I tell you I won’t have it,” cried Crellock. “Ah, you needn’t scowl like that. I’m not afraid of your looks. Will you go and fetch her out?”