"Good morning, Frank. You are early to-day. And what a bad temper you seem to be in!" exclaimed a laughing voice; and Mrs. Norton, looking radiant and delightfully cool in a thin white Madras muslin dress, entered the room.

He went to her.

"They're sending me away, Violet," he said.

"Sending you away?" she repeated in an astonished tone. "Sending you where?"

"To h.e.l.l, I think," he cried. "Oh, I beg your pardon. I mean--yes, they're sending me away from Rohar, from you. Sending me to the other side of India."

The blood slowly left her face as she stared uncomprehendingly at him.

"Sending you away? Why?" she asked.

"Because--because we're friends, little girl."

"Because we're friends," she echoed. "What do you mean? But you mustn't go."

"I must. I can't help it. I've got to go."

Pale as death Violet stared at him.

"Got to go? To leave me?"

Then with a choking cry she threw her arms about his neck and sobbed.

"You mustn't. You mustn't leave me. I can't live without you. I love you. I love you. I'll die if you go from me."

Frank started and tried to hold her at arm's length to look into her face. But the woman clung frenziedly to him, while convulsive sobs shook her body. His arms went round her instinctively and, holding her to his breast, he stared blankly over the beautiful bowed head. It was true, then. She loved him. Without meaning it he had won her heart. He whose earnest wish it had been to save her from pain, to console her, to brighten her lonely life, had brought this fresh sorrow on her. To the misery of a loveless marriage he had added a heavier cross, an unhappy, a misplaced affection. No exultant vanity within him rejoiced at the knowledge that, unsought, she had learned to care for him. Only regret, pity for her, stirred in him. He was aware now as always that his feeling for her was not love. But she must not realise it. He must save her from the bitter mortification of learning that she had given her heart unasked. His must have been the fault; he it must be to bear the punishment. She should never know the truth. He bent down and reverently, tenderly, kissed the tear-stained face--it was the first time that his lips had touched her.

"Dearest, we will go together. You must come with me," he said.

Violet started and looked wildly up at him.

"Go with you? What do you mean? How can I?"

"I mean that you must come away with me to begin a new life--a happier one--together. I cannot leave you here with a man who neglects you, who does not appreciate you, who cannot understand you."

"Do you mean--run away with you?" she asked.

"Yes; it is the only thing to do."

She slowly loosed her clasp of him and released herself from his arms.

"But I don't understand at all. Why are you going? And where?"

He briefly told her what had happened. His face flushed darkly as he repeated the Colonel's words.

"'He wouldn't have an officer like me under his command,' he said. He treated me like a criminal. I don't value his opinion much. But Major Hepburn agrees with him. That hurts. I respect him."

"But where is this place they're sending you to?" she asked.

"Ranga Duar? I don't know. Eastern Bengal, I believe."

"Bengal. What? Anywhere near Calcutta?"

"No; it must be somewhere up on the frontier. Otherwise they wouldn't send Military Police to garrison it."

"But what is it like? Is it a big station?" she persisted.

"I can't tell you. But it's sure not to be. No; it must be a small place up in the hills or in the jungle. There's only a detachment there."

"But what have I got to do with your being sent there?" she asked in perplexity.

"Don't you understand? Someone's been making mischief," he replied.

"Those two vile-minded women have been talking scandal of us to the Colonel."

"What? Talking about you and me? Oh!" she exclaimed.

His words brought home to her the fact that these bitter-tongued women whom she despised had dared to a.s.sail her--her, the _Burra Mem_, the Great Lady of their little world. Had dared to? She could not silence them. And what would they say of her, how their tongues would wag, if she ran away from her husband! And they would have a right to talk scandal of her then. The thought made her pause.

"But how could I go with you to this place in Bengal? Where could I live?" she asked.

"You'd live with me."

"Oh! In your bungalow? How could I? And how would I get there?" she continued. "I haven't any money. I don't suppose I've got a ten-rupee note. And I couldn't ask my husband."

"Of course not. I would----" He paused. "By Jove! I never thought of that." It had not occurred to him that elopements must be carried out on a cash basis. He had forgotten that money was necessary. And he had none. He was heavily in debt. The local _shroffs_--the native money-lenders--would give him no more credit when they knew that he was going away. All that he would have would be the one month's advance of pay--probably not enough for Violet's fare and expenses across India--the Government provided his--and certainly not enough to support them for long. He frowned in perplexity. Running away with another man's wife did not seem so easy after all.

Violet was the first to recover her normal calm.

"Sit down and let us talk quietly," she said. "One of the servants may come in. Or my husband--if people are talking scandal of us."

She touched the switch of an overhead electric fan--the Government of India housed its Political Officer in Rohar much more luxuriously than the military ones--and sat down under it. Wargrave began to pace the room impatiently.

"Come, Frank, stop walking about like a tiger in a cage and let's discuss things properly."

With an effort he pulled himself together and took a chair near her. The woman was the more self-possessed of the two. The shock of suddenly finding herself up against the logical outcome of her desires had sobered her; and, faced with the prospect of an immediate flight involving the abdication of her a.s.sured social position and the surrender of a home, she was able to visualise the consequences of her actions. The most sobering reflection was the thought that by so doing she would be casting herself to the female wolves of her world--and she knew the extent of their mercy. There were others of her acquaintance besides Mrs. Trevor who would howl loud with triumph over her downfall.

The thought has saved many a woman from social ruin.

Thinking only of what she had so often told him of the misery of living with a man as unsympathetic as her husband, Frank pleaded desperately with a conviction that he was far from feeling. The hard fact of the lack of sufficient money to pay for her travelling expenses, the difficulty of getting off together from this out-of-the-way station, were not to be got over. Then the impossibility of knowing whether she could remain with him when he was on frontier duty and of supporting her away from him, the realisation of the fact that they would have to face the Divorce Court with its heavy costs and probably crushing damages, all made the situation seem hopeless. In despair he sprang up and resumed his nervous pacing of the room.

At last Violet said:

"All I can see, dearest, is that we must wait. It will be harder for me than for you. You at least will not have to live with anyone uncongenial to you. But I must. Yet I can bear it for your sake."

He stopped before her and looked at her in admiration of her courageous and self-sacrificing spirit. Then he bent down and kissed her tenderly.

Sitting beside her he discussed the situation more calmly than he had hitherto done. It was finally agreed that he was to go alone to his new station, save all that he could to pay off his debts--he would receive a higher salary in the Military Police and his expenses would be less--and when he was free and had made a home for her Violet would sacrifice everything for love and come to him. With almost tears in his eyes as he thought of her n.o.bility he strained her to his heart. When the time came for parting the woman broke down completely and wept bitterly as she clung to him. He kissed her pa.s.sionately, then with an effort put her from him and almost ran from the room, while she flung herself on a lounge and sobbed convulsively.

One of the Residency _syces_ had taken charge of the pony; and Wargrave, mounting it, galloped madly back to his bungalow, his heart torn with anguish for the unhappiness of the broken-hearted woman that he was leaving behind.