look up till he had mastered it.

"Good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye," so ran the message--"It is no
red-letter day for me, but I wish you joy with all my heart. Spare a
thought now and then for the good old times and the boy you left behind
you.--Your loving Jerry."

Amid a buzz of congratulation, Piet Cradock handed the missive back to
his bride with a simple "Thank you!" that revealed nothing whatever of
what was in his mind.

She took it, without looking at him, with nervous promptitude, and the
incident passed.

The guests were many, and Nan's attention was very fully occupied. No
casual observer, seeing her smiling face, would have suspected the
turmoil of doubt that underlay her serenity.

Only Mona, her favourite sister, had the smallest inkling of it, but even
Mona was not in Nan's confidence just then. No intimate word of any sort
passed between them up in the old bedroom that they had shared all their
lives during the fleeting half-hour that Nan spent preparing for her
journey. They could neither of them bear to speak of the coming
separation, and that embodied everything.

The only allusion that Nan made to it was as she passed out of the room
with her arm round her sister's shoulders, and whispered:

"Don't sleep by yourself to-night, darling. Make Lucy join you."

They descended the stairs, holding closely to each other. Old Colonel
Everard, very red and tearful, met them at the foot, and folded Nan
tightly in his arms, murmuring inarticulate words of blessing.

Nan emerged from his embrace pale but quite tearless.

"Au revoir, dad!" she said, in her sprightliest tone. "You will be having
me back like a bad half-penny before you can turn round."

Still laughing, she went from one to another of her family with words of
careless farewell, and finally rah the gauntlet of her well-wishers to
the waiting carriage, into which she dived without ceremony to avoid the
hail of rice that pursued her.

Her husband followed her closely, and they were off almost before he took
his seat beside her.

"Thank goodness, that's over!" said Nan, with fervour. "I'll never marry
again if I live to be a hundred! I am sure being buried must be much more
fun, and not nearly so ignominious."

She leaned forward with the words, and was on the point of letting down
the window, when there was a sudden, deafening report close to them. The
carriage jerked and swerved violently, and in an instant it was being
whirled down th