“I think it will do Miss Ross good—to take her away from old associations, and people that she knows, I means.”
“And from me especially?” he asked bitterly. Lady Haigh answered him with unexpected frankness.
“Exactly—from you especially,” she said. “I really believe she will appreciate you better at a distance—no, not quite that. I want her to miss you. At present it is a kind of religious duty to Colin’s memory not to have anything to do with you; but when you are not there I think she will see that she has been turning her back on what ought to be her greatest blessing and comfort.”
Major Keeling looked as if he could have blushed. “Very well,” he said meekly. “If you can bring Haigh round to it, you shall go.”
“And shall I put it right with Captain Porter?” asked Lady Haigh, with an easy assurance born of success. “I know he’ll be quite willing to stay here if I tell him it’s for Pen’s sake,” she added to herself.
“Thank you, I think I am the best person to do that,” he replied, and again Lady Haigh caught the doubtful look in his eyes, of which she was reminded later when she found that the change of plan had put her husband into a very bad temper, though he would not give her any reason for it. The fact was that, as the Sheikh-ul-Jabal had predicted, the return from Gamara of the envoys sent to consult Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq, with whom his dervish follower had travelled, seemed to have been the signal for the Nalapuri authorities to begin a series of hostile acts. Troops—or rather the ragged levies of the various Sardars—were being massed in threatening proximity to the frontier, fugitive criminals were sheltered and their surrender refused, and a preposterous claim was put forward to the exclusive ownership of all the wells within a certain distance of the border-line. The Amir was undoubtedly aiming at provoking hostilities, and war might begin at any moment. To Major Keeling it was a most comforting thought that the European ladies could so easily be placed in safety without alarming them, for the south-western district was protected against any attack from Nalapur by a natural bulwark, the hills in which Sheikhgarh was situated; and the obvious course for an invading army was to pour across the frontier by way of the plains, with the undefended Alibad as its first objective. But to Sir Dugald, who knew the state of affairs as well as the Commandant, the case was different. He was the natural protector of his wife and Penelope, and it was only to be expected that he should remain to guard them, even in the place of safety to which Major Keeling was so glad to consign them—and this while there would be fighting going on round Alibad, and his beloved guns would be delivered over to the tender mercies of little Harris or any other subaltern who might choose to turn artilleryman for the nonce! Sir Dugald registered a solemn vow that when the news of hostilities came, he would leave his wife and Penelope in the nearest fortified village, and make all speed back to Alibad himself. Elma could not protest, after all she had said, and he would miss only the very beginning of the fight. The thought consoled him, and he was even able to take pleasure in withholding the reasons for anxiety from Lady Haigh, who would have refused point-blank to leave Alibad if she had guessed that fighting was imminent in its neighbourhood. Accordingly he interposed no obstacles in the way of an immediate start, and as Lady Haigh was as anxious to be gone as Major Keeling was to hurry her off, the necessary preparations were soon made. Penelope was roused perforce from her lethargy, and set to work, and she responded the more readily to the stimulus that Dr Tarleton’s vigorous expostulation seemed already to have waked her to something like hope again. Nevertheless, she still felt unable to face Major Keeling; and it was with a shock that on the afternoon of the start from Alibad she saw him riding up the street, with the evident design of seeing the travellers on their way. He made no attempt to attach himself to her, however, apologising for his presence by saying that he had some last directions to give Sir Dugald, and the two men rode on together. They had nearly reached the hills before Major Keeling turned back, and Lady Haigh at once claimed her husband’s attention.
“Dugald, do you think my horse has a shoe loose? There seems to be something queer about his foot, but I didn’t like to interrupt you before.”
Calling up one of the grooms, Sir Dugald dismounted and went to his wife’s assistance, and in the hum of excited talk which ensued, Major Keeling had a momentary opportunity of speaking to Penelope.
“Am I to hope that this change will do you good, and enable you to come back here?” he asked, bending towards her from his tall horse.
“Oh, I—I hope so,” she stammered. “Why?”