n his hand. It was from the Resident of
Kashmir; bald and brief, yet full of grim possibilities.

"Captain Lenox dangerously ill at Darkot. Rheumatic fever. Doctor
sent out. Will wire further news. Writing."

Desmond read and re-read the words mechanically, an anxious frown
between his brows. Then, looking up again, he encountered his wife's
eyes, heavy with tears; and his arm enfolded her on the instant.

"Bear up, my darling, like the plucky woman you are," he commanded
gently, his lips against her cheek. "It's not the worst. By God's
mercy we may get him back yet. You must keep on upholding her a little
longer; that's all. I know it has been a strain for you,--this last
fortnight; so soon after your own affair too."

For they themselves had been enriched by a new life, a new link in the
chain that bound them--a bright-haired daughter not yet four months old.

Honor did not answer at once; but leaned upon him, choking back her
sobs, soothed by the magnetism of his hand and voice, that seemed
always to leave things better than they found them.

When her tears were under control, she drew herself up, brushing them
from her cheeks and lashes.

"Yes, it has been a strain," she admitted. "And I did so hope this had
brought news I could give her, at last. You don't see her as I do,
Theo, lying there day after day, so frail and white and patient. Quita
patient! Can you picture it? I quite long for a flash of her old
perversity. She has almost left off speaking of him. But the eternal
question in her eyes haunts me; and I feel half ashamed of my golden
time with you, when I see her going through it alone, poor darling; her
natural joy in the child shadowed and broken by the anxiety and longing
that are eating her heart out, and holding her back from health. Is
there nothing I can tell her, that would be truth, yet not all the
truth?"

Desmond knitted his brows again, pondering.

"Go to her now," he said. "Tell her we've heard by wire that he is
safely over the Darkot, but he may be delayed in getting on to Kashmir,
and we hope for more news within the week. If she asks to see the
wire, say you're sorry, but I tore it up."

He did so on the spot, dropping the shreds of paper reflectively among
the smouldering logs upon the hearth; while Honor hurried to the
sick-room, with her fragment of news: the room in which Lenox had
almost died of cholera, and in which Quita's ring had been restored to