The Coming Conquest of England [89]
men of your stamp amongst us, for there is more elbow-room in our army than in yours. But I know that it is useless to say anything further about it. One word more! You need not at once take off the uniform to which you do honour before you leave Simla. To-morrow I am returning to Lahore, and during the march I beg you will still remain at the head of your squadron. It will be safest for your English friends to travel with our column. At Lahore you can do as you please. Since the course of the campaign is in a south-easterly direction, the west is free, and you may possibly be able to travel by train for a considerable portion of the journey to Karachi." In this proposal Heideck recognised a fresh proof of the friendly disposition which the Prince had already so often shown towards him, and he was not slow to thank him most heartily. The idea of being obliged to travel under the enemy's protection was, of course, not a very pleasant one to Mr. Kennedy; but in the interests of the females who accompanied him he was bound to acquiesce in the arrangement, since there was really no better chance of reaching Karachi quickly and safely. "You cannot imagine," he said to Heideck, "how hard it is for me to leave India, so dearly purchased. I have devoted twenty years of my life to it, years of hard, unremitting toil. And now my work, like that of so many better men, is rendered useless at a single stroke." "You have spent two whole decades in India without a break?" "Yes; I could not make up my mind to accompany my wife and daughter on their occasional visits to Europe for a few months' relaxation. I was passionately fond of my work, and I can hardly get over the idea that all is lost. And it IS lost; I am under no illusion as to that. After the Russians have once set foot here, they will never give up the country again. Their rule will be more firmly established than ours, since they are at heart much closer to the Indians than we are." . . . . . . . On the following day they set out. Mr. Kennedy and the ladies rode in a mail-coach drawn by four Australian horses, which had been originally intended for driving to the Anandale races. He had brought with him his own English coachman, an English servant, and an English maid; he had paid off and discharged his numerous Indian servants before starting. The march proceeded by way of Kalka, the last station on the railway to Simla, without any incidents, as far as Lahore. Here Prince Tchajawadse was informed that the Russian army had started on the previous day for Delhi, and that he was to follow as rapidly as possible with his detachment. During the entry into the streets of Lahore, the sight of which awoke in him so many painful recollections, Heideck was suddenly roused from his reverie. Behind the pillars supporting the balcony of a house he thought he caught sight of the form of a woman, who followed with staring eyes the march of the glittering, rattling troop of horsemen with their clattering swords. Although her face was almost entirely hidden by a veil, he felt instinctively that she was no other than his own and Edith's preserver--the page Georgi. He turned his horse and rode up to the house. But the vision disappeared as he drew near, as if the earth had swallowed it up. He accordingly was driven to assume that it was merely a delusion of his senses. He took leave of Prince Tchajawadse with a heartiness corresponding to their previous relations. The Prince embraced him several times, and his eyes were moist as he again wished his comrade a prosperous journey and the laurels of a victorious warrior. Nor was Heideck ashamed of his emotion, when he clasped the Prince's hand for the last time. "If you see your page again, please give him my own and Mrs. Irwin's farewell greeting." The Prince's face clouded over. "I would do it with all my heart, my friend, but I shall never see my page again. Let us speak of him no more. There are wounds of which a man cannot feel proud." With this they parted. Heideck, who had resumed