“I will. I didn’t know you took it to heart so much, and Penelope will be glad to know it too. I’m sure she has an idea that you don’t--well, care for her as you once did. But now I can put that right. You know that there’s no one I would sooner have as a brother-in-law if--if all was well with you.” “Yes, yes, all in good time. There is one of my patrols over there, so you had better turn back now. All right!” Colin turned back with the escort, and Ferrers pursued his way, fuming inwardly. He did not wish to deceive his friend. Was it his fault if Colin was so ridiculously easy to deceive, and persisted in believing the best of him in spite of all evidence to the contrary? Ferrers knew what his last sentence had meant. There were certain books with which Colin had provided him, entreating him to read them, when he went to Shah Nawaz, and which he was always anxious to discuss with him when they met. Since the only form of religious study to which Ferrers had given any attention of late was the convenient philosophy expounded by the Mirza, which proved right and wrong to be much the same thing, and man to be equally irresponsible for either, he congratulated himself on having so skilfully evaded cross-examination. As for Colin, he rode back to Alibad with a serious face, and, instead of stopping at his quarters, went on to the fort to find Penelope. He was full of generous indignation over the treatment Ferrers had received, and he was glad Lady Haigh was out of the way. Penelope raised her tired head from her cushions in surprise as he entered. “Why, Colin! Is there anything the matter, dear?” “I am disappointed in you, Pen,” he returned gently, sitting down beside her. “You have treated poor George very unkindly to-day.” Reproof from Colin, though he was only her own age, was very grievous to Penelope. “Oh no,” she cried, trying to defend herself; “I scarcely spoke to him, and I’m sure I said nothing unkind.” “That was just it. You said nothing to him, and he is deeply hurt.” “But he was so rough and noisy, Colin, and talked so loud. I could scarcely bear him to be in the room.” “It is not like you to be selfish. He wants a helping hand just now, and you think only of his voice and manners. It is a terrible responsibility to push a man back when he is trying to climb up.” “If that was all,” said Penelope, rather warmly, “I would give him any help I could. But you know you said he wanted more than that.” “Of course he does.” Colin drew back and looked at her in astonishment. “Why, Pen, he has your promise.” “No, no,” she said restlessly, “not quite a promise. I--I don’t like him, Colin. He is quite different from what he used to be. Even his face has changed.”