"She may change her mind," I said, putting a hand on his. "Most women
do."
"Most admit of exceptions," he replied, regarding me with earnest eyes
as if to read what was going on behind mine. "There are some women who
never change. Her Highness is one of these. As I remarked before, she
has no love to give me; it is gone, and as it is gone without reward,
she will make no attempt to recall it to give to another. I love her
all the more for that. The game fate plays with our hearts is a cruel
one. For one affinity there are ten unfinished lives. Her Highness
loves a good man."
My hand fell from his, and I went over to the window. This was the
first intimation he had given to me that he knew the secret, the secret
which had made me so sad, the secret which I tried not to believe.
"You are determined to go to India?" I said, without turning my head.
I could find no other words.
"Yes. It will be the best thing in the world."
"You will promise to write?"
"Whenever I strike the post. Marry and be happy; it is the lot of the
few."
That night he started for Bombay, by the way of England, and the next
morning I put out for the feudal inn.