"Even so. Wherever I am sent, there I must go."
"Yours is a dangerous vocation, Mr. Conroy. You run many risks."
"A few--not many. As for danger, there is just enough of it to make the life a fascinating one."
"Yes; if I were a man I don't think I could settle down into a quiet country gentleman. I should crave for a wider horizon, for a more adventurous life, for change, for----"
She ended abruptly. Once again her enthusiasm was running away with her. There was a moment's silence, and then she went on, laughing:
"But I am content to be as I am, and to leave such wild rovings to you gentlemen! And now we must go back to my uncle, or he will wonder what has become of us."
Little was said during the walk back. Despite herself, Ella's heart sank at the thought of Conroy's going so far away. She asked, mentally and impatiently, what it could matter to her where he went. Had she not said twenty times that tomorrow all this would seem like a dream, and that in all likelihood she and Conroy would never meet again? What matter, then, so long as they did not see each other, whether they were separated by five miles or five thousand?
"Body o' me! I thought you were lost," exclaimed the Squire, as they re-entered the room. "Been for a ramble, eh? seen the sea! Fine evening for it. And when do you come down into this part of the country again, Mr. Sketcher?"
"That is more than I can say, sir. My movements are most erratic and uncertain."
"Mr. Conroy thinks it not unlikely he may be sent to Africa--to Ashantee," said Ella, a little ring of pathos in her voice.