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“You wanted to speak to me, Lady Haigh?” Major Keeling had dismounted, and was coming up the steps, looking almost gigantic in the picturesque full-dress uniform of the Khemistan Horse.

“I want you to do a kindness,” she responded, rather breathlessly.

“I know what that means. I am to break a rule, or relax an order, or in some other way go against my better judgment.”

“I—I want you to let me bring a friend of mine to Alibad with me.”

Major Keeling’s brow darkened. “I knew this would come. You assured me you could stand the isolation, but I knew better. Of course you want female society; it is quite natural you should. But you professed to understand that on the frontier you couldn’t have it.”

“Not society—just this one girl,” pleaded Lady Haigh.

“Who is she? a sister of yours or Haigh’s?”

“No relation to either of us. She is Mr Ross’s sister—your old friend’s daughter—an orphan, and all alone.”

“Engaged to any one who is going with me?”

“No—o.” The negative, doubtful at first, became definite. “I won’t say a word about Ferrers, even to get him to let her come,” was Lady Haigh’s resolute determination.