“The new plan doesn’t answer.  Suppose you read, as usual, and let me interrupt, also as usual, after the first two lines.”

He opened the book obediently, but turned the pages at random.

She watched him for a moment, and then bent a little forward toward him.

“It is my turn now,” she said, suddenly; “is anything wrong?”

He raised his head, and their eyes met.  There was a pause.  “I will be more honest than you,” he returned; “yes, there is.”

“What?”

“I’ve had orders to move on.”

She drew back, and her lips whitened, though she kept them steady.

“When do you go?”

“On Wednesday.”

There was silence again; the man still kept his eyes on her face.

The whirring of the insects and the creaking of the wheel had suddenly grown so strangely loud and insistent that it was in a half-dazed fashion she at length heard her name—­“Kathleen!”

“Kathleen!” he whispered again, hoarsely.

She looked him full in the face, and once more their eyes met in a long, grave gaze.

The man’s face flushed, and he half rose from his seat with an impetuous movement; but Kathleen stopped him with a glance.

“Will you go and fetch my work?  I left it in the tent,” she said, speaking very clearly and distinctly; “and then will you go on reading?  I will find the place while you are gone.”

She took the book from his hand, and he rose and stood before her.

There was a mute appeal in his silence, and she raised her head slowly.

Her face was white to the lips, but she looked at him unflinchingly; and without a word he turned and left her.

Mrs. Drayton was resting in the tent on Tuesday afternoon.  With the help of cushions and some low chairs, she had improvised a couch, on which she lay quietly with her eyes closed.  There was a tenseness, however, in her attitude which indicated that sleep was far from her.

Her features seemed to have sharpened during the last few days, and there were hollows in her cheeks.  She had been very ill for a long time, but all at once, with a sudden movement, she turned her head and buried her face in the cushions with a groan.  Slipping from her place, she fell on her knees beside the couch, and put both hands before her mouth to force back the cry that she felt struggling to her lips.

For some moments the wild effort she was making for outward calm, which even when she was alone was her first instinct, strained every nerve and blotted out sight and hearing, and it was not till the sound was very near that she was conscious of the ring of horse’s hoofs on the plain.

She raised her head sharply, with a thrill of fear, still kneeling, and listened.

There was no mistake.  The horseman was riding in hot haste, for the thud of the hoofs followed one another swiftly.

As Mrs. Drayton listened her white face grew whiter, and she began to tremble.  Putting out shaking hands, she raised herself by the arms of the folding-chair and stood upright.