out in India I feel sure that matters would have
gone quite differently.

We tramped on over heather and ling and springy turf till we reached the
old ruin known as the Hunting Tower; then Derrick seemed to awake to the
recollection of present things. He looked at his watch.

"I must go back to my father," he said, for the first time breaking the
silence.

"You shall do no such thing!" I cried. "Stay out here and I will see to
the Major, and give him the letter too if you like."

He caught at the suggestion, and as he thanked me I think there were
tears in his eyes. So I took the letter and set off for Ben Rhydding,
leaving him to get what relief he could from solitude, space, and
absolute quiet. Once I just glanced back, and somehow the scene has
always lingered in my memory--the great stretch of desolate moor, the
dull crimson of the heather, the lowering grey clouds, the Hunting Tower
a patch of deeper gloom against the gloomy sky, and Derrick's figure
prostrate, on the turf, the face hidden, the hands grasping at the
sprigs of heather growing near.

The Major was just ready to be helped into the garden when I reached
the hotel. We sat down in the very same place where Derrick had read
the news, and, when I judged it politic, I suddenly remembered with
apologies the letter that had been entrusted to me. The old man received
it with satisfaction, for he was fond of Lawrence and proud of him, and
the news of the engagement pleased him greatly. He was still discussing
it when, two hours later, Derrick returned.

"Here's good news!" said the Major, glancing up as his son approached.
"Trust Lawrence to fall on his feet! He tells me the girl will have a
thousand a year. You know her, don't you? What's she like?"

"I have met her," replied Derrick, with forced composure. "She is very
charming."

"Lawrence has all his wits about him," growled the Major. "Whereas
you--" (several oaths interjected). "It will be a long while before any
girl with a dowry will look at you! What women like is a bold man of
action; what they despise, mere dabblers in pen and ink, writers
of poisonous sensational tales such as yours! I'm quoting your own
reviewers, so you needn't contradict me!"

Of course no one had dreamt of contradicting; it would have been the
worst possible policy.

"Shall I help you in?" said Derrick. "It is just dinner time."

And as I walked beside them to the hotel, listening to the Major's
flood of irritatin