India -- History -- Sepoy Rebellion, 1857-1858 -- Fiction
“I think the best thing is for everyone to lie down for a few hours,”
the Major said. “No one had a wink of sleep last night, and most of us
have not slept much for some nights past. We must always keep two men on
the roof, to be relieved every two hours. I will draw up a regular rota
for duty; but except those two, the rest had better take a good sleep.
We may be all called upon to be under arms at night.”
“I will go on the first relief, Major,” the Doctor said. “I feel
particularly wide awake. It is nothing new to me to be up all night. Put
Bathurst down with me,” he said, in a low tone, as the Major rose from
the table. “He knows that I understand him, and it will be less painful
for him to be with me than with anyone else. I will go up at once, and
send young Harper down to his breakfast. There will be no occasion to
have Bathurst up this time. The Sepoys are not likely to be trying any
pranks at present. No doubt they have gone back to their lines to get a
meal.”
The Doctor had not been long at his post when Isobel Hannay came up
onto the terrace. They had seen each other alone comparatively little of
late, as the Doctor had given up his habit of dropping in for a chat in
the morning since their conversation about Bathurst.
“Well, my dear, what is it?” he asked. “This is no place for you, for
there are a few fellows still lurking among the trees, and they send a
shot over the house occasionally.”
“I came up to say that I am sorry, Doctor.”
“That is right, Isobel. Always say you are sorry when you are so,
although in nine cases out of ten, and this is one of them, the saying
so is too late to do much good.”
“I think you are rather hard upon me, Doctor. I know you were speaking
at me today when you were talking to the others, especially in what you
said at the end.”
“Perhaps I was; but I think you quite deserved it.”
“Yes, I know I did; but it was hard to tell me it was as contemptible to
despise a man for a physical weakness he could not help, as to despise
one for being born humpbacked or a cripple, when you know that my
brother was so.”
“I wanted you to feel that your conduct had been contemptible, Isobel,
and I put it in the way that was most likely to come home to you. I have
been disappointed in you. I thought you were more sensible than the run
of young women, and I found out that you were not. I thought you had
some confidence in my judgment, but it turned out that you had not.
If Bathurst had been killed when he was standing up, a target for the
Sepoys, I should have held you morally responsible for his death.”
“You would have shared the responsibility, anyhow, Doctor, for it was
you who repeated my words to him.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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