“Well, it was nothing to what he asked me. I had to promise never to keep Dugald back--or even to try to--from anything he was ordered to do. Wasn’t it barbarous? You see, in that fight at Umarganj Dugald had got his guns up just in time to take part, and they decided the battle. Major Keeling was so pleased that he said at once, ‘We must have you at Alibad,’ and of course Dugald was delighted. But when the Chief found out he was married he almost refused to take him, for he had sworn he would have no ladies on the frontier. And there was I, who had said over and over again that I would never stand between Dugald and his chances! It really looked like a romantic suicide, leaving pathetic letters to break the cruel Major’s heart, didn’t it? But Sir Henry Lennox interceded for me, and I told Major Keeling I would promise anything if he would only let us both go. And now I wake up at night dreaming that the Chief has ordered Dugald to certain death, and I mustn’t say a word, and I lie there sobbing, or shaking with terror, until Dugald hears me, and asks me why I don’t control my imagination. That’s what husbands are. What with keeping them in a good temper when they are there, and missing them when they are away, one has no peace. Don’t invest in one, Pen.” “I have no intention of doing it--at any rate at present. But, Elma----” “Of course I mean it all depends on your getting the right man.” Lady Haigh was uncomfortably conscious that she might one day wish to explain away her last remark. “Only find him, and he shall have you with my blessing. Pen, did you notice anything about Major Keeling’s eyes? I mean”--she went on, talking quickly to cover her sudden realisation that the transition must have appeared somewhat abrupt to Penelope--“did he seem to be able to read your mind? The natives believe that he can, and say that he can tell when a man is a spy simply by looking at him. He seems to have funny ideas, too, about being able to foretell a person’s fate from his face. He was very much struck by--at least”--she blundered on, conscious that she was getting deeper and deeper into the mire--“he said something last night about Colin’s having a very remarkable face.” “Oh dear, I hope he hasn’t second-sight! Colin has it sometimes, and if two of them get together they’ll encourage one another in it,” said Penelope wearily. “Colin is not quite sure about its being right, so he never tries to use it, but sometimes---- Oh, Elma, I must tell you, and I’m afraid you won’t like it at all. Colin was here before breakfast, and talked to me a long time about George Ferrers. I think they had been having a ride together.” “Colin ought to know better than to have anything to do with Ferrers. He will get no good from him.”