the face which had called back to her the dead past, and then the
"beautiful statue" tore aside her gown. She gazed upon a folded
paper which had long lain upon her throbbing heart. "This shall
speak for me--at the last! His pride shall bend! He shall not break
the child's heart! For the mother's sake, I swear it! She shall
love and be loved!" and as she spoke, in far away Delhi sweet
Nadine stirred in her sleep, and smiled, with opening arms, for
the phantom mother she fondly sought seemed to clasp her now to a
loving breast!

In the Delhi Club there was high wassail below him, while Major
Alan Hawke restlessly paced his spacious rooms above, watching the
lonely white moon sail through the clearest skies on earth. The quid
mines had all observed the patiently haughty air of the returned
Major, and even the chattering club stewards marveled at the sudden
efflorescence of Hawke Sahib's fortunes.

"Devilish neat-handed fellow, Hawke," growled old Major Bingo Morris,
over his whist cards. "Close-mouthed fellow! Always wonder why he
left the service! Neat rider! Good hand with gun and spear! He
ought to be in our Staff Corps! He knows every inch of the northern
frontier!" The old Major glared around, inviting further comment.

"Fellow in Bombay tells me he went a cropper about some woman
or other, ten years ago," lisped a rosy young lieutenant who was
spreading the golden revenues of a home brewery over the pitfall-dotted
path of a rich Indian sub.

"Right you are!" sententiously remarked Verner of the Horse Artillery.
"He went a stunning pace for a while, and at last had to get out.