Sara Davenal's heart was beating against her side; a thousand improbabilities rushed into her brain. "Tell it me, Edward," she said, very calmly. Sometimes, in moments of agitation, she could be calm, almost unnaturally so, outwardly. It is frequently the case with those who feel the deepest. "The regiment's ordered abroad." "O Edward!" For a few minutes neither spoke again. Sara's greatest thought was for her father. She seemed to have divined how cruelly Dr. Davenal felt the separation from his sons; Richard dead, Edward in London with his regiment. If he had to go abroad to remote countries, thousands of miles away--why, almost as good that he had died. They should feel it so. "And that explains why I could not get a long leave," he resumed. "There's so much of preparation to be made; and we officers have to look to everything, for the men as well as for ourselves. We sail in a week or two." They paced on in silence. Captain Davenal suddenly looked down at her, and detected tears. "Don't grieve, child. I am but a worthless sort of brother, after all--never with you. Perhaps I shall come back a better one." "Edward, can't you sell out?" "Sell out!" he exclaimed, in astonishment. "Sell out because we are ordered on active service. You are a brave soldier's sister, Miss Sara Davenal!" "Some time ago, when there was a question of the regiment's going out, you were to have exchanged into another, and remained at home, Edward. It was just after Richard's death, I remember. Can you not do that now?" "No, I cannot. I can neither sell out nor exchange. It is impossible." There was so much grave meaning in his tone that Sara looked up involuntarily. He laughed at her earnest face. "O Edward! _must_ you go!" "There's no help for it. We go to Malta first. India--as we suppose--afterwards." "Papa may be dead before you return." "No, no! I trust not." "It will be as though he had no children!" she exclaimed, almost passionately, in her love for her father, in her grief. "Richard dead; you gone: he will have none left." "He will have you, Sara." "I! Who am I?" "The best of us. You have given him no grief in all your life; I and poor Dick have: plenty. It is best as it is, Sara." She could scarcely speak for the sobs that were rising. She strove bravely to beat them down, for Sara Davenal's was an undemonstrative nature, and could not bear that its signs of emotion should be betrayed outwardly. She loved her brother greatly; even the more, as the doctor did, for the loss of Richard; and this going abroad for an indefinite period, perhaps for ever, rang in her ears as the very knell of hope. He might never return: he might go away, as Richard had, only to die.