."

"His father?"

"A brave man--a soldier himself. He will know it was a good death and
that Harry would not fail. He did not at Ypres. He would not here. But
all joy and hope will be dead in that house tomorrow."

"And what do you think?"

"I am not sorry for Harry, if you mean that. He knew--we all know--that
he was on guard here holding the outposts against blood and treachery
and terrible things--playing the Great Game. One never loses at that
game if one plays it straight, and I am sure that at the last it was joy
he felt and not fear. He has not lost. Did you notice in the church
a niche before every soldier's seat to hold his loaded gun? And the
tablets on the walls; "Killed at Kabul River, aged 22."--"Killed on
outpost duty."--"Murdered by an Afghan fanatic." This will be one memory
more. Why be sorry."

Presently:--

"I am going up to the hills tomorrow, to the Malakhand Fort, with Mrs.
Delany, Lady Meryon's aunt, and we shall see the wonderful Tahkt-i-Bahi
Monastery on the way. You should do that run before you go. The fort is
the last but one on the way to Chitral, and beyond that the road is so
beset that only soldiers may go farther, and indeed the regiments escort
each other up and down. But it is an early start, for we must be back in
Peshawar at six for fear of raiding natives."

"I know; they hauled me up in the dusk the other day, and told me I
should be swept off to the hills if I fooled about after dusk. But I
say--is it safe for you to go? You ought to have a man. Could I go too?"

I thought she did not look enthusiastic at the proposal.

"Ask. You know I settle nothing. I go where I am sent." She said it with
the happiest smile. I knew they could send her nowhere that she would
not find joy. I thought her mere presence must send the vibrations of
happiness through the household. Yet again--why? For where there is no
receiver the current speaks in vain; and for an instant I seemed to see
the air full of messages--of speech striving to utter its passionate
truths to deaf ears stopped for ever against the breaking waves of
sound. But Vanna heard.

She left the room; and when the bridge was over, I made my request. Lady
Meryon shrugged her shoulders and declared it would be a terribly dull
run--the scenery nothing, "and only" (she whispered) "Aunt Selina and
poor Miss Loring?"

Of course I saw at once that she did not like it; but Sir John was all
for my going, and that saved the situati