There was no time for the poor lady to express her gratitude as fully as she would have liked. Having read the welcome letter, she told her visitor what she wished him to say to her husband, and then—the five minutes having expired—Nicholson departed.
"These two incidents," says Sir John Kaye, "speak for themselves. There is no lack, thank God, of kind men, brave men, or good men among us, but out of them all how many would have done these two things for 'his neighbour'? How many respectable men would at this moment condemn them both?"
What Henry Lawrence and his noble wife thought of the Kossuth enterprise was expressed in a letter from the latter some months later. "You can hardly believe," she wrote, "the interest and anxiety with which we watched the result of your projected deed of chivalry.… When I read of your plan my first thought was about your mother, mingled with the feeling that I should not grudge my own son in such a cause."
After having performed his mission, Nicholson made his way to London, where he found his mother awaiting him at Sir James Hogg's town house. It was now the month of April. The rest of the year he spent in sight-seeing, visiting his old home at Lisburn, and looking up various relatives in Ireland and England. He found time, however, to make a journey to St. Petersburg, where he was much impressed by a grand review of troops by the Tsar. This opportunity to study the Russian military system gave him considerable satisfaction, as he had already devoted some attention to the French and Prussian armies. But what struck him most was a recent Prussian invention, the needle-gun, which he saw would be the arm of the future. In strong terms he urged the importance of introducing this weapon in place of the old-fashioned muskets then in use, but his counsel was unheeded.
At the end of 1851 Nicholson bade good-bye to his mother, and set off on his return journey to India. His friend, Herbert Edwardes, had preceded him thither some months earlier, taking with him his newly-wedded wife. To Nicholson Edwardes had said before he left, "If your heart meets one worthy of it, return not alone," but the advice was not followed. Nicholson, with all the fascination which his personality exerted over women, gave no indication of being susceptible to the grand passion, and he went forth to take up the great task that lay before him single-handed.
CHAPTER VI.
THE MASTER OF BANNU.
On reporting himself at his old station at Lahore, Nicholson was not left waiting long for a fresh appointment. Reynell Taylor, who had been in charge of the Bannu district, had applied to be relieved, and Sir Henry Lawrence, now Chief Commissioner for the Punjaub, offered the post to Nicholson. The latter accepted, and in May of 1852 entered upon his duties as Deputy Commissioner.
This new position was one fraught with considerable difficulties. Bannu, which lay on the north-western frontier of the Punjaub, was populated by a wild and lawless people. Waziris, Marwatis, and men of other Afghan tribes, they had lived an open, free-booting life, raiding far and wide at will, and were known as the most daring thieves and bloodthirsty ruffians on the border. Under Taylor's wise but gentle rule they had been kept within certain bounds, but much remained to be done. They were now to learn from Nicholson the lesson which in time transformed the province into the most orderly one in the whole Punjaub.