The carven face was not impassive now. "After all, Dilkusha,[10] what matter pictures when you have—herself?"
Roy started. "It's true. I have—herself. How could you know?"
Five minutes later, he was sitting beside his grandfather on the deep divan, telling him all.
Before setting out, he would not have believed it possible. But instinctively he knew himself in touch with a quality of love that matched his own; and the mere telling revived the marvel, the thrill of that strange and beautiful experience at Chitor....
Sir Lakshman had neither moved nor spoken throughout. Now their eyes met in a look of deep understanding.
"I am very proud you told me, Roy. It is not easy."
"No. I've not told any one else. I couldn't. But just now—something seemed to draw it all out of me. I suppose—something in you——"
"Or perhaps—herself! It almost seemed—she was here with us, while you talked."
"Perhaps—she is here still."
Their voices were lowered, as in the presence of sacred things. Never, till now, had Roy so keenly felt his individual link with this wonderful old man, whose blood ran in his veins.