The Daughter of Brahma | Page 2

made India," was the quiet, almost indifferent answer. "My father was born out here, and is buried in Lucknow. My son will be born, and will die out here, as I shall do. It is in the blood." Then, with a swift yet smooth movement, she drew herself upright and held out her arms. "Walter!" she said, joyfully.
The man who had been standing hesitating on the threshold of the room came quickly forward. The movements of the slight, agile figure seemed to betoken youth, yet, as he removed his pith helmet the pale light revealed the face of a man who had seen more than youth recks of anxiety, responsibility, perhaps fear. He bent over her and touched her hand.
"I was afraid of startling you," he said, in a low voice, "but I had to have a look in and see how you were getting on. Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes, quite all right. You have had news?"
He nodded.
"Lai Pandra has confessed. There is to be a big meeting to-night at some place outside the village. He is to act as guide. All the ringleaders will be there among them the Chitpaven Brahman, Nana Balagi. That is proof enough that there is more in it all than mere dacoity. It will be a big haul for us--if we are successful."
"There will be no danger?"
"I hope to get off with a few priestly curses."
"Is Lai Pandra to be trusted?"
"That's what none of us know. I am taking thirty Sikhs with me."
They looked at each other steadily. Mrs. Hurst had sunk back again, but her eyes had never left her husband's face.
"Is there any chance that you will be back in time?"
Hurst glanced at the nurse.
"In three or four hours if all goes well."
Nurse Campden nodded. She had recovered something of her self-possession.
"We can expect no change before then," she said.
"And if things don't go well?"
He held out his thin, brown hand and his wife took it and pressed it.
"In that case there isn't much to be said. I should like him to be called David after your grandfather, you know. It would be a good omen. There are no famous names on my side."
She smiled faintly.
"There is yours."
"I am one of hundreds."
"Not after to-night. And supposing it isn't a 'he'?"
He laughed.
"We've both made so sure, haven't we? Well, I leave it to you. Anyhow, you will act for the best. Good-bye, dear."
He bent and kissed her, and she put her arms round his neck and drew him close to her. A sudden exclamation broke from him.
"Jean!"
But she pushed him gently away.
"You must lose no time," she said. "Come back with glory."
He nodded, his eyes shining at her from under the straight brows.
"You're splendid!" he said. "Jean you're more made for this sort of thing than I am."
"That's not true." There was a vague impatience in her tone. "You ought not to have bothered about me. A wife is always a nuisance. Good-bye."
"Good-bye, Jean!"
He made no attempt to kiss her again, but went to the window. Nurse Campden followed him. His back was turned to the light, but in the part darkness she saw enough of his face to startle even her blunted susceptibilities. The rigid stoicism was gone. His fine, almost too delicate features were working as though in an agony; the perspiration stood out in great beads on his forehead.
"Mr. Hurst," she said in a rapid undertone, "couldn't you get some one to take your place? I feel it my duty to tell you that it would be better if you did not leave the house to-night. Any excitement or agitation might have serious results for your wife or the child."
He looked at her. The mask had slipped back instantly to its place.
"I have spoken to my wife," he said. "She perfectly understands. She will be neither agitated nor excited. I leave her in good hands. Good night!"
He went down the two steps which led into the compound. Once Nurse Campden fancied he hesitated and looked back at the lighted room, but she could not be sure, and the next instant the darkness had engulf ecj him. In the absolute quiet the two women could hear the sentry's challenge, the answer, a word of command, and then the steady tramp of marching feet on the high-road. Nurse Campden shivered and came back from the window.
"You must not allow yourself to be frightened, Mrs. Hurst," she said, with a weak attempt at professionalism. "You must think of your responsibility."
Mrs. Hurst smiled, and the smile had become scornful.
"I am not frightened, but I am rather tired. As you do not like to sit in the dark, take the light into the next room. I will call you when I want you."
Nurse Campden glanced back over her shoulder. Then she took up the