“Woman alive! who cares about you?” cried the doctor furiously. “What do your little bits of feelings matter compared with hers? No, no; I beg your pardon, Miss North,” his tone softening. “I’d get a fine wigging if the Commissioner heard me, wouldn’t I? But you must remember how much you have got left, and your sister has nothing. For God’s sake, let her please herself with thinking that he’s all right for the present, if that comforts her at all. By-and-by the truth will come to her gradually, but she will have the child to think of, and the worst bitterness will be gone. Come, now, you’re brave enough for that, aren’t you? How is she--asleep just now? I’ll look in again later on. Now make up your mind to be unselfish about this.” “Does he mean that generally I am selfish?” mused Mabel. “It never struck me before. But nobody seems to care about me. They all think that I have Eustace left. As if he could ever make up to me for Dick!” she laughed mirthlessly at the mere idea. “He will be coming in presently and making appropriate remarks. Oh dear, oh dear! if he had gone to the durbar and been killed instead of Dick, I believe I should have been _glad_. How dreadful it is! How can I ever marry him? But I know I shall never have the courage to tell him I want to give him up. What can I do?” “Mabel, my poor little girl!” Mr Burgrave emerged from the passage, and limped towards her as she stood listlessly on the verandah. “You have slept badly, I fear? How is Mrs North?” “She won’t believe that he is dead.” And with her eyes full of tears, Mabel repeated to him Georgia’s words. “Very touching, very touching!” remarked the Commissioner, his tone breathing the deepest sympathy. “Poor thing! it is unspeakably sad to see so strong a mind overthrown. You must find it very trying, poor child! I hope you are taking care of yourself?” His glance travelled over her, and Mabel remembered for the first time that she had slept in her clothes, and that her hair had not been touched since she had twisted it up roughly the night before on the first alarm. “Oh, I know I’m not fit to be seen!” she cried impatiently. “But what does that signify?” “It signifies very much. You must remember the natives in the fort. Their endurance--even their loyalty--may hang upon our success in keeping up appearances during the next few days. And we white men, also--surely it is a poor compliment to us to make such a sorry ob--figure--of yourself? Then there is your unfortunate sister. Is it likely to restore her mental balance to see you in such a dishevelled condition? Oblige me by changing your dress and doing something to your hair. It is a public duty at such a time.” “I wish you wouldn’t bother!” said Mabel, weeping weakly. “I have no black things, and I can’t bear to put on colours.”