know I did." She looked at him with distress in her eyes. "I've
wished I hadn't ever since. There is my poor Stella in bad trouble for
one thing. She says she will have to change her _ayah_. And there is--"

"She has got Peter--and her brother-in-law. She doesn't want you too,"
said her husband.

"And now there is little Tessa," proceeded Mrs. Ralston, growing more
and more worried as she proceeded.

"Yes, there is Tessa," he agreed. "You can offer to take her to Bhulwana
with you if you like. But not her mother as well. That is understood. It
won't break her heart to part with her, I fancy. As for you, my dear,"
he gave her a whimsical look, "the sooner you are gone the better I
shall be pleased. Lady Harriet and the Burton contingent left to-day."

"I hate going!" declared Mrs. Ralston almost tearfully. "I shouldn't
have promised if I could have foreseen all that was going to happen."

He squeezed her arm. "All the same--you promised. So don't be silly!"

She turned suddenly and clung to him.

"Gerald! I want to stay with you. Let me stay! I can't bear the thought
of you alone and in danger."

He stared for a moment in astonishment. Demonstrations of affection were
almost unknown between them. Then, with a shamefaced gesture, he bent
and kissed her.

"What a silly old woman!" he said.

That ended the discussion and she knew that her plea had been refused.
But the fashion of its refusal brought the warm colour to her faded
face, and she was even near to laughing in the midst of her woe. How
dear of Gerald to put it like that! She did not feel that she had ever
fully realized his love for her until that moment.

Seeing that her presence in her own bungalow was not needed just then,
she betook herself once more to Stella, and again the afternoon silence
fell like a spell of enchantment. That there could be any element of
unrest anywhere within that charmed region seemed a thing impossible.
The peace of Eden brooded everywhere.

The evening was drawing on ere Bernard slowly emerged from his serene
slumber and looked at the child beside him. Some invisible influence--or
perhaps some bond of sympathy between them--had awakened her at the same
moment, for her eyes were fixed upon him. They shone intensely,
mysteriously blue in the subdued light, wistful, searching eyes, wholly
unlike the eyes of a child.

Her hand came out to his. "Have you been here all the time, dear?" she
said.

She seemed to be still ha