"Tell me first, are you glad to see me--as glad as Kipper?"
"Yes," I answered, "so very, very glad--though your coming can make no difference in one way. Do tell me how you found that I was in Bangalore?"
"It was through that little brick, Sally Payne. She is as sharp as they make 'em, and she had an idea that, instead of burying yourself in a hill station, or going home, you had followed your brother down to Bangalore. She said it would be so like you--and she was right. Sally saw you on her way to the Neilgherries; she stayed here for a few days looking about. She heard from her maid, who heard from her ayah, who heard it in the bazaar, that 'a tall young English lady lodging in Infantry Lines had apparently no friends--and there was something mysterious about her.' Then one Sunday she caught sight of you in church, and cabled to me at once; and now, Eva, I suppose you understand that I have come out on purpose to take you home?"
"No, no!" I protested; "I cannot desert Ronnie. Think of it--how could I!"
"From what I know of Ronnie he will never agree to such an unnecessary sacrifice. How is he getting on?"
"At first he wanted to kill himself, but since he has seen me he has recovered a little. The superintendent is as lenient and thoughtful as he dare venture; and, after all, a European prisoner, especially if he is well behaved and gives no trouble, may have a little more margin than, say, a murderer from the West Coast. Ronnie is now a convict warder. I saw him three days ago, and he seemed to be in better spirits."
"I wonder if I may be allowed to visit him?"
"I am also sure, from what I know of your brother, that he has no wish for you to remain in this country. Come now, answer me--tell me the truth--what does he say?"
"He urges me to return to England, but I know I am a comfort to him. Even if I would go Torrington is closed to me. They gave me my choice of remaining here, or having a home with them. Aunt Mina wrote that if I stayed in India on Ronnie's account they washed their hands of me for ever and ever."
"But, my dear Eva, Torrington is not the _only_ home that is open to you in England. What about mine?"
"And your people, and your mother?" I asked.
"My mother sees eye to eye with me in this. I have brought you a letter from her. She knows all about you, and admires your devotion, as you will see. Now, my dear Eva, I should like to see _you_. This room is nearly pitch dark, and, by Jove!--what a room it is! But apparently your old landlady thinks no end of it; she has been sitting here part of the time to keep me company, and has told me the price of every single piece of furniture. She also told me, what interests me far more, that she is very fond of you, and what was a shock--that she does not think you are long for this world! Now call a fellow to bring lamps; I should like to be able to judge for myself!"