A week later Mrs. Wessington died, and the inexpressible burden of her existence was removed from my life.  I went Plainsward perfectly happy.  Before three months were over I had forgotten all about her, except that at times the discovery of some of her old letters reminded me unpleasantly of our bygone relationship.  By January I had disinterred what was left of our correspondence from among my scattered belongings and had burnt it.  At the beginning of April of this year, 1885, I was at Simla—­semi-deserted Simla—­once more, and was deep in lover’s talks and walks with Kitty.  It was decided that we should be married at the end of June.  You will understand, therefore, that, loving Kitty as I did, I am not saying too much when I pronounce myself to have been, at the time, the happiest man in India.

Fourteen delightful days passed almost before I noticed their flight.  Then, aroused to the sense of what was proper among mortals circumstanced as we were, I pointed out to Kitty that an engagement-ring was the outward and visible sign of her dignity as an engaged girl; and that she must forthwith come to Hamilton’s to be measured for one.  Up to that moment, I give you my word, we had completely forgotten so trivial a matter.  To Hamilton’s we accordingly went on the 15th of April, 1885.  Remember that—­whatever my doctor may say to the contrary—­I was then in perfect health, enjoying a well-balanced mind and an absolutely tranquil spirit.  Kitty and I entered Hamilton’s shop together, and there, regardless of the order of affairs, I measured Kitty’s finger for the ring in the presence of the amused assistant.  The ring was a sapphire with two diamonds.  We then rode out down the slope that leads to the Combermere Bridge and Peliti’s shop.

While my Waler was cautiously feeling his way over the loose shale, and Kitty was laughing and chattering at my side—­while all Simla, that is to say as much of it as had then come from the Plains, was grouped round the Reading-room and Peliti’s veranda—­I was aware that some one, apparently at a vast distance, was calling me by my Christian name.  It struck me that I had heard the voice before, but when and where I could not at once determine.  In the short space it took to cover the road between the path from Hamilton’s shop and the first plank of the Combermere Bridge I had thought over half-a-dozen people who might have committed such a solecism, and had eventually decided that it must have been some singing in my ears.  Immediately opposite Peliti’s shop my eye was arrested by the sight of four jhampanies in black and white livery, pulling a yellow-paneled, cheap, bazar ’rickshaw.  In a moment my mind flew back to the previous season and Mrs. Wessington with a sense of irritation and disgust.  Was it not enough that the woman was dead and done with, without her black and white servitors re-appearing to spoil the day’s happiness?  Whoever employed them now I thought I would call upon, and ask as a personal favor to change her jhampanies’ livery.  I would hire the men myself, and, if necessary, buy their coats from off their backs.  It is impossible to say here what a flood of undesirable memories their presence evoked.