had oppressed him, and he longed to see England again. Besides he had promised to execute the dying wishes of Captain Sinclair.
He had found the letter in that officer's tent the day after the battle of Tulandand, and had put both letter and locket away in a safe place. The locket he had never opened, having been deterred from doing so by a feeling of delicacy or reverence for the dead man's wishes.
One of those lucky speculations which are only met with in half-civilized countries, had enabled him to make enough money to pay his passage and leave him a good bit over. He took passage in a Cape liner, and three weeks later was in Southampton; from thence he went to London, and the next night took his seat in the Scotch Express.
As he was borne along at the rate of sixty miles an hour, the memory of the last time he had undertaken the journey crossed his mind, and all the circumstance of that eventful night flashed before him.
“What a blackguard I was,” he said to himself. “And how badly I behaved to that little woman. She could have put me in gaol for five years if she had liked, and I should have deserved it. I wonder who she was? I heard the big man call her some name that night, but I have clean forgotten what it was. I keep fancying it was Sinclair, but that of course is nonsense — a trick of the brain. By the way, I hope I shall know poor Sinclair's widow when I see her. I have never looked at her portrait yet — kept back by some indefinable feeling for the dead man — but as I am to see the lady in the flesh and blood within the next few hours, surely it can do no harm to look at her portrait.”
He pulled the little case out of his pocket, opened it and stood up in order to get the full light of the lamp on it. As he looked, his eyes and mouth opened wide, and with a groan he dropped back in his seat.
“By Jove! the woman I raped in this very train!
EPILOGUE
Brandon's first care on arriving at Glasgow was to disguise himself so effectually that there was no chance of recognizing him. Then he made his way to Acacia Villa, and told the servant that an old soldier, who had been with Captain Sinclair in Africa, wanted to see her mistress.
He was shown into the drawing-room, and in a few minutes Mrs. Sinclair, looking very pretty in her widow's weeds, came into the room. Brandon, who had tried to make himself look like an old soldier, was glad to see she did not know him again. He told her all the particulars concerning her husband's death, and handed her the locket and the letter. She looked long at the locket with tears in her eyes, and she read the letter through carefully. As she reached the end she started and looked hard at Brandon. “Did my husband have brain fever, or sunstroke Mr…?”
“Thompson, mum. Bill Thompson — at your service,” replied Brandon. “No, mum, I never see any signs of it.”
Mrs. Sinclair asked a few more questions, and when the messenger got up to leave she pressed a couple of sovereigns into his hand.
“I suppose an old soldier is not too proud to accept a present from an officer's widow,” she said.
To her surprise the old soldier dropped on his knees before her.
“I can keep up this deceit no longer,” he cried. “You see before you the wretch who did you a cruel wrong, but who has never ceased to reproach himself for it. I loved you from the first moment I set eyes oh you and the thought of you has been my stay in life many a weary night. Your image prevented me from taking my own life, or throwing it away, on a hundred occasions.
“Mr. Brandon!” she gasped.
“Yes, madame,” he replied, “the man who committed a dastardly offence on you; for which he again prays your forgiveness — and when he has attained that will dare to hope to win your love.”
Mrs. Sinclair was silent for a minute, then she handed her husband's letter to Brandon.
“Will you please read that paragraph?” she said.
Brandon took the paper and at the spot indicated read as follows:
Brandon read this through slowly and looked at Mrs. Sinclair.
The widow blushed, and cast down her eyes.
“Of course I must obey my husband's last wishes,” she murmured — and the next moment she was in her lover's arms.
