Penelope smiled feebly. She was very long in recovering from her attack of fever, and Lady Haigh was anxious about her, even throwing out hints as to the possibility of emulating the despicable conduct of the Punjab ladies, and taking a trip to the Hills or the sea. But Penelope only shook her head, and said she should be better when the cool weather came. No change of scene could alter the fact that she had finally and deliberately taken upon herself the responsibility of Ferrers and his failings, or relieve her from the haunting feeling that henceforward there would be a blank in her life. What caused the blank she had not courage to ask herself. People were not so fond of analysing their sensations in those days as in these; it was enough to be conscious of an ever-present sense of loss, to know that she had put away from her something that it would have been a joy to possess. Three days passed without news of any kind, dreary days to the two ladies, who devoted themselves, as in honour bound, to their unsatisfactory pursuits, and only emerged from the fort for their evening ride. The “gardens”--for the name which sounded ironical had by general consent been adopted as prophetic--boasted a nondescript erection of masonry which did duty as a band-stand; and here a band in process of making struggled painfully through various easy exercises and a mutilated edition of “God Save the Queen.” Lady Haigh and Penelope always halted their _palkis_ dutifully in the neighbourhood of the band, and stepped out to walk and talk a little with Major Keeling and the other men. It was as necessary to appear here once a-day as on the sea-drive at Bab-us-Sahel, and if Major Keeling was in the town he never failed to show himself. Riding, fighting, building, surveying, planting, exercising his men, administering his district, he had ten men’s work in hand, and his only moment of leisure in the whole day was this brief evening promenade. Lady Haigh told him once that it was very good of him to devote it to social purposes. He replied gravely that it was his duty, the least he could do--then hesitated, and confessed that he did not dislike it, nay, that the thought of it sometimes occurred to him pleasantly in the intervals of his day’s labours, and Lady Haigh received the information with suitable surprise and gratitude. When the watchman on the fort tower announced at last that Sir Dugald’s detachment was in sight, Major Keeling broke up abruptly the court he was holding, and rode out to meet him. As soon as details could be discerned through the haze of sand, he assured himself that the numbers were complete, and that no fighting had taken place; but Sir Dugald’s face, as he met him, did not bear any look of triumph. “Well?” asked the older man sharply.