ening, as,
after a long walk together, she lay down to rest before tea-time, he
took Milly's arm and led her into the garden. "She has told me all,
Milly," said he, with some emotion; "at least, all that she can remember
of that terrible day."

CHAPTER XXIV. THE LAST AND THE SHORTEST

LOYD was married to Florence; and they went to India, and in due
time--even earlier than due time--he was promoted from rank to rank till
he reached the dignity of chief judge of a district, a position which he
filled with dignity and credit.

Few were more prosperous in all the relations of their lives. They were
fortunate in almost everything, even to their residence near Simlah, on
the slope of the Himalaya: they seemed to have all the goods of fortune
at their feet In India, where hospitality is less a virtue than a
custom, Loyd's house was much frequented, his own agreeable manners,
and the charming qualities of his wife, had given them a wide-spread
notoriety, and few journeyed through their district without seeking
their acquaintance.

"You don't know who is coming here to dinner, to-day, Florry," said
Loyd, one morning at breakfast; "some one you will be glad to see, even
for a memory of Europe--Stockwell."

"Stockwell? I don't remember Stockwell."

"Not remember him? And he so full of the charming reception you gave
him at Orta, where he photographed the villa, and you and Emily in the
porch, and Aunt Grainger washing her poodle in the flower-garden?"

"Oh, to be sure I do, but he would never let us have a copy of it, he
was so afraid Aunt Grainger would take it ill; and then he went away
very suddenly; if I mistake not, he was called off by telegram on the
very day he was to dine with us."

"Perhaps he'll have less compunctions now that your aunt is so unlikely
to see herself so immortalised. I'm to go over to Behasana to fetch him,
and I'll ask if he has a copy."

His day's duties over, Loyd went across to the camp where his friend
Stockwell was staying. He brought him back, and the photographs were
soon produced.

"My wife," said Loyd, "wishes to see some of her old Italian scenes.
Have you any of those you took in Italy?"

"Yes, I have some half-dozen yonder. There they are, with their names on
the back of them. This was the little inn you recommended me to stop
at, with the vine terrace at the back of it Here, you see the clump of
cypress-trees next the boat-house."

"Ay, but she wants a little domestic