at this point, one of which led to the district cutcheries or courts. and was largely used. Sew Ratan came into the shade of the tree and bargained for a minute or two with the sweet-seller, who sat on a little wooden platform in the middle of his baskets. Finally a bargain was struck, and Sew Ratan became the possessor of a pound or so of some sticky compound that looked like whitish barley-sugar twisted into bracelets. He received his purchase in a large green leaf, and after a desultory conversation strolled off down the dusty road, eating the bracelets and yodelling softly to himself. At the entrance to the cantonments, which he duly reached about an hour later, there was a house in which one of his friends was employed. Feeling rather thirsty from the effects of his walk in the sun and his pound of sweets, he went round to the stables and got his friend to give him some water. After that the two sat down on their heels under a tree close to the stable and smoked a pipe together, putting the tobacco at the end of a long upright stem, and sucking at the cocoanut bowl with that cussedness which characterises the Oriental. When he had spent another hour in this pleasant manner, Sew Ratan rose with a sigh and proceeded on his journey, at the end of which he eventually delivered himself of his letter. By that time one of its corners was broken, and it bore a very dirty thumb-mark, which would have made Helen miserable if she had seen it. She wrote a pretty hand, clear and legible with some character in it, like Aunt Madge, and was rather proud of the neatness of her letters.

Guy's bearer had gone to his dinner, which included a quiet afternoon's sleep upon a string-bed in his hut, and he was not going to get up for any of the Sahib's ridiculous letters; besides which, the Sahib was away at court-martial. So Helen's loving little note was put down upon the wooden stool outside the great man's hut, and there it remained until the sun was sloping westward. Then it was taken over to the house and placed upon the sitting-room table.

After lunch she sat in her room trying to read, until it was time to change her dress. There were a number of people coming to tennis. In the evening it was better. The tennis helped to pass the time, and then her father and she went out to dinner at the Hunters', and there were other things to think of. But all the time the secret was lying in her heart; how strange it seemed that no one of them knew.

CHAPTER XVI

GUY WRITES HOME

WHEN Guy at last got his letter it was evening. The court-martial had lasted an unusually long time. Directly he was free he mounted his pony which had been waiting for him for some hours, and went over to his quarters at a gallop. 'Langley seems to be in the devil's own hurry,' St. Orme remarked, as he disappeared round the corner, leaving a trail of dust behind him.

6

The moment he was in the house he saw his letter on the table. 'When did this come?' he said, with an affectation of indifference, as he took it up.

'It has just come, Sahib.

The Commissioner Sahib was out, and the syce had to wait until evening.'

Guy went into his room to read his letter. Dale was out apparently, but he might come in at any moment.

Guy looked at the seal as he turned the envelope over to open it, and noticed what a perfect impression it was. His first feeling was almost one of disappointment at the extreme shortness of the letter; but as he read it over and realised all that it meant his heart bounded within him. Then he was seized with a furious impatience to see Helen. It was hard to be so near, and yet unable to get to her. Should he ride over and try to see her now? He looked at his watch. No, it was hopeless. There would be a dozen people at tennis, and he would have to come back early, as he was dining with the Aylmers. Besides, he had no right to go. She had asked him to come in the morning, and it might embarrass her if he came earlier. He must possess his soul in patience. Then it occurred to him that he could write, and he sat down at once. That would be relief, and it would be delicious to feel that she had his letter before night. This time

he let himself go. She had accepted his love, and let him know that he had won hers. What need for further restraint?

MY DARLING-Your letter has just reached me, and I must send you one line of thanks for it. You cannot know what mad delight it has given me. I had been trying all day to harden my heart for the answer which I feared would come; and I hope that if it had come I should have taken it like a gentleman, but when I saw your letter all my courage was gone, and for a moment I could not open it. Now that I have done so the joy is almost more than I can bear. I must not weary you by writing any more, but you will forgive me for writing this much? I cannot let the night pass without telling you what happiness you have given me, and I cannot tell you except by letter. It does seem cruel that I should be obliged to stay away from you when I could be with you in a few minutes; but you are right of course, and your wish is law to me. It always will be. I shall ride over early to-morrow morning and hope to see you for one minute before breakfast. Don't disappoint me if you can help it. Till then, good-bye. I feel as if I could not stop writing. Why cannot I go to you instead of these cold words ?-Ever your own GUY.

This letter took some time to write, and the darkness had closed in before Guy entrusted it to his servant, with orders that it must be delivered the same evening, and that there was

no answer.

When Helen received it, which she did on return from her dinner-party, Guy's words did not strike her as being by any means 'cold,' but she was far from resenting their warmth. It seemed to her strange and delightful that she should have aroused such fiery devoted love. She locked up the two letters together when she went to join her father over his cigar. If he had asked to see the second, she would of course have shown it to him, but she felt no inclination to do so. Already there was that between her and Guy which was not for other eyes. Colonel Treveryan did not ask to see the letter; but after a time he put his hand out and laid it on Helen's. 'Did you write to Langley?'

he said.

"Yes, father. He is coming to-morrow morning to break

fast.'

There was silence for a time, and then Colonel Treveryan · ventured one more question. It all seemed to him so sudden and unexpected that he could not quite get over a feeling of doubt even now. Girls were apt to imagine themselves in love with the first man who admired them. 'Forgive me, Nell,' he

said, in a hesitating tone; 'you know how much your happiness is to me. Are you quite sure you really care for him?' There was no hesitation about her answer.

'Quite sure, father dear.' Her voice was low, but it was level and steady.

'You have not known him long, Nell.' Helen was silent, and he went on 'Two or three months is a very short time, and you have not seen much of one another.'

Helen leant her head against his shoulder with a mute caress. 'I am quite sure, daddy.'

Colonel Treveryan gave in. He remembered his own marriage. He had not known his wife three months when they were engaged, and they had been very happy. The time had not seemed short to him then; and, in truth, three months at a small Indian station, where people are thrown together almost daily, as much as on board ship, may mean a fairly close acquaintance. 'Very well, I won't say any more. You ought to know best, and he is a very fine fellow. I don't wonder at your liking him.'

Of course Helen read over his letters again before she got into bed. Was it possible that she had received them both since the morning? It seemed as if the day had been a month long. Her prayers that night were an outpouring of thankfulness and love. For the first time Guy's name was mentioned in them. It was never omitted again so long as he lived.

Next morning Helen was up early. She used to go down to the church sometimes before breakfast to practise, and the church was on the road to the cantonment by which Guy must ride in. She felt sure that if he saw her carriage at the door he would come to her, and she knew they would be alone. It was an innocent plot, which she would not have been ashamed to confess, and it succeeded as it deserved to do. Riding past the church at a slow walk, half an hour before the earliest time at which he could present himself at Colonel Treveryan's, Guy heard the sound of music and saw the brougham near the porch. He turned into the church enclosure and asked the coachman whether Helen was inside. The answer was as he expected; and handing over his horse to a syce he walked up the narrow stone stair to the gallery. Helen heard his step, and rose to her feet; and there, while the last note of the broken music still lingered in the echoing roof, he saw her standing, her sweet eyes turned towards him, and her sweet face flushing to the temples.

There for the first time he kissed her lips. It was a solemn

betrothal, but she never felt that there was any unfitness in it. She was plighting her faith to the man she loved. What better place than the quiet empty church, where they would be alone but for the presence of the God who had been so good to her ? And Guy cared not a straw whether he was in a church or anywhere else so long as he held her in his arms.

They drove up to the house together, one of the syces bringing up Guy's horse, and shortly after their arrival Colonel Treveryan appeared. His manner was quiet but friendly, and that breakfast was a pleasant one to two at least of the three. When it was over, Colonel Treveryan carried Guy off. 'Come along,' he said with a smile, laying his hand on the young man's arm, 6 we must talk this business over seriously. You have not done with me yet.' They went away to Colonel Treveryan's smoking-room and sat down. Guy would not smoke. Colonel Treveryan's cigar took some time to light, and while it was getting ready he was thinking how he should begin. He had spent a very sleepless night pondering over it all. Life with a cavalry regiment was an expensive thing, and he knew little about Guy's circumstances. His own means were not large, and he could not do much to help. All this must be cleared up, though it was doubtless all right.

At last the cigar had caught evenly all round and was fairly started. 'Well, Langley,' Colonel Treveryan said, 'my daughter showed me your letter, and I understand that she has given you the answer you wanted.'

'Yes, sir.' Guy went on with a hesitation and an earnestness which became him well: 'I hope, sir, that you do not disapprove. I know I am not worthy of her-no one could be; but if I do not make her happy it will not be for want of trying. I do care for her, sir, from the bottom of my heart.'

His eyes seemed trustworthy. 'I am sure you do,' Colonel Treveryan answered; and apparently she does not think you unworthy of her. It has taken me by surprise, and it is rather a wrench to me; but I daresay I shall get accustomed to it in time, and so far as you are concerned, I can only say that as I must lose her I know no one I would rather have in your place.' 'Thank you, sir. Of course I can understand what you feel about it.'

Colonel Treveryan sighed. 'Can you? Perhaps you can. Well, now about business. When do you want to rob me of my daughter?'