I turned away, and buried my face in my hands. This last sorrow, which had come to me filling me with shame, with self-reproach, with pity, had been the filling of my cup. Lady Olive's white, horror-struck face, as my blundering words had told her the truth, had been before me all the night, and like a haunting, reproachful shadow, seemed as though it would never leave me. I was unnerved and weak, and before I well knew what was going to happen, the hot tears were streaming from my eyes. I was the better for them. When I stood before my father again I felt more like myself. "I have decided," I said calmly. "I have prayed you to let me go with you, and you have refused. God knows I would rather go with you; but, if you will not have me, I must stay behind. I will take the name of Devereux, since you wish it, and since you say that my taking it will make you happier. But into Devereux Court I will not go. I have sworn it before heaven, and I will not break my oath!" "But you will see your grandfather?" "I will see him anywhere else but at Devereux. I shall write him and tell him so. And as to my future, I have but one desire--to enter the army." A look almost of peace came into my father's face. "You have made me very glad, Hugh," he said simply. "But about our home? Supposing your grandfather and I both die, and you became Sir Hugh Devereux?" "Then my oath ceases, and I shall go there. But whilst he holds out his hand to me, and not to you, I will not take it. That will I not depart from." My father said never another word; but I knew that he was satisfied. CHAPTER XLI "TWO YEARS AFTER" "Colonel Sir Francis Devereux to see you, sir." I turned away from the window of my room, whence I had been gazing idly into the dreary barrack square below, and advanced to greet the stately, grey-headed old man who stood in the doorway. "Surprised to see me, Hugh, eh?" he asked, sinking into my one easy chair. "I didn't expect you in town again so soon," I acknowledged. "But I'm very glad to see you. You know that." "Are you?" he said shortly. "Then why the devil can't you come and see me sometimes? A nice thing to bring an old man over seventy years of age a couple of hundred miles whenever he wants to have a word or two with his grandson! Damn it, sir, you're as obstinate as a mule!" I did not answer him. He knew very well why I would not go to Devereux. What was the use of treading all over the old ground again? "More rumours in the _Times_ this morning, I see, about Burton Leigh and Mr. Arbuthnot," he remarked, after a short silence. "They say they've been handed over to the Mahdi now. Don't believe a word of it!" "I hope to God that it's not true," I groaned; "but in any case they must be in terrible danger. The Mahdi is gaining fresh followers every day, and they must be in the very centre of the most perilous district. Why on earth the Government doesn't make a decided move, I can't imagine!"