"What's the matter?" cried Kitty; "what made you call out so foolishly, Jack?
If I am engaged I don't want all creation to know about it. There was lots of
space between the mule and the veranda; and, if you think I can't ride--
"--There!"
Whereupon wilful Kitty set off, her dainty little head in the air, at a hand-
gallop in the direction of the Bandstand; fully expecting, as she herself
afterward told me, that I should follow her. What was the matter? Nothing
indeed. Either that I was mad or drunk, or that Simla was haunted with devils.
I reined in my impatient cob, and turned round. The 'rickshaw had turned too,
and now stood immediately facing me, near the left railing of the Combermere
Bridge.
"Jack! Jack, darling!" (There was no mistake about the words this time: they
rang through my brain as if they had been shouted in my ear.) "It's some
hideous mistake, I'm sure. Please forgive me, jack, and let's be friends
again."
The 'rickshaw-hood had fallen back, and inside, as I hope and pray daily for
the death I dread by night, sat Mrs. Keith-Wessington, handkerchief in hand,
and golden head bowed on her breast.
How long I stared motionless I do not know. Finally, I was aroused by my syce
taking the Waler's bridle and asking whether I was ill.
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