“Because I love you, Fitz. You couldn’t have the heart to send me away after that, could you? Don’t try to talk; I understand.”
Returning to her watch that evening, Mabel met the Commissioner, who stopped to inquire after Fitz.
“He is conscious; he knows me,” she answered joyfully, adding, after a moment’s hesitation, “I think perhaps you will like to know that it is all right between us now.”
“I am very glad to hear it. I hope from my heart that you may be absolutely happy. As for Anstruther,” added Mr Burgrave, in his old courtly way, “there can be no question as to his happiness.”
“We shall always feel that we owe it very much to you,” faltered Mabel.
“It is extremely kind of you to say so. I am leaving early to-morrow, and that is a pleasant assurance to carry with me. I hoped I should meet you this evening, as I am dining at your brother’s, but I see you have other duties.”
“I am so sorry—I didn’t understand—how stupid of me!” cried Mabel. “Are you leaving the frontier altogether?”
“I am returning in the first instance to Bab-us-Sahel, to take up my regular duties again. My visit to the frontier has extended over a preposterous length of time, owing first to my accident and then to the rising, and I fear it has thrown the machinery of government a good deal out of gear. Personally, however, I cannot bring myself to regret it. I have enjoyed many important experiences, for which I did not bargain when I set out.”
Mabel’s eyes fell before the kindly look in his. “Can you ever forgive me?” she murmured.
“I have nothing to forgive. The fault was mine.” He bowed over the hand she held out to him. “The Queen can do no wrong.”