“I think he will be right,” she said at last gravely; “if he wishes to do so, I should not try to dissuade him; it would be very hard to know that he is in danger, but no harder for me than for others.” “That is right, my dear,” the Doctor said affectionately; “I should not wish my little girl--and now the Major has gone I feel that you are my little girl--to think otherwise. I think,” he went on, smiling, “that the first part of that plan we spoke of will not be as difficult as I fancied it would be; the sting has gone, and he will get rid of his morbid fancies.” “When shall I be able to see him?” “Well, if I had any authority over him you would not see him for a week; as I have not, I think it likely enough that you will see him tomorrow.” “I would rather wait if it would do him any harm, Doctor.” “I don’t think it will do him any harm. Beyond the fact that he will have to carry his arm in a sling for the next fortnight, I don’t think he will have any trouble with it.” CHAPTER XXIII. The next morning Bathurst found Isobel Hannay sitting in a shady court that had been converted into a sort of general room for the ladies in the fort. “How are you, Miss Hannay? I am glad to see you down.” “I might repeat your words, Mr. Bathurst, for you see we have changed places. You are the invalid, and not I.” “There is very little of the invalid about me,” he said. “I am glad to see that your face is much better than it was.” “Yes, it is healing fast. I am a dreadful figure still; and the Doctor says that there will be red scars for months, and that probably my face will be always marked.” “The Doctor is a croaker, Miss Hannay; there is no occasion to trust him too implicitly. I predict that there will not be any serious scars left.” He took a seat beside her. There were two or three others in the court, but these were upon the other side, quite out of hearing. “I congratulate you, Mr. Bathurst,” she said quietly, “on yesterday. The Doctor has, of course, told me all about it. It can make no difference to us who knew you, but I am heartily glad for your sake. I can understand how great a difference it must make to you.” “It has made all the difference in the world,” he replied. “No one can tell the load it has lifted from my mind. I only wish it had taken place earlier.” “I know what you mean, Mr. Bathurst; the Doctor has told me about that too. You may wish that you had remained in the boat, but it was well for me that you did not. You would have lost your life without benefiting me. I should be now in the well of Cawnpore, or worse, at Bithoor.” “That may be,” he said gravely, “but it does not alter the fact.” “I have no reason to know why you consider you should have stopped in the boat, Mr. Bathurst,” she went on quietly, but with a slight flush on her cheek. “I can perhaps guess by what you afterwards did for me, by the risks you ran to save me; but I cannot go by guesses, I think I have a right to know.”