The planter looked old and grey as he told me that the deaths among the coolies were mounting up with awful rapidity; and his voice broke as he said that little Norah was to be buried at sundown.
"And Laura?" I asked.
He answered at once like a man whose mind is made up. "She must be taken away from this. I cannot go. Will you take her? My place is here; but I won't risk her life. Take her to" He named the nearest hill station. I have sent to lay a dooli dak, and after sundown you must start. "You can be ready?"
I went at once to make arrangements for the journey with my bearer, who put up my kit with alacrity. "I not go Sahib," he said with a ghastly grin. "My mother gone dead in Calcutta. I go; come again in two weeks."
The man was terrified and useless.
Baby Norah was buried at sunset in a spot consecrated only by the use to which it had been put; and by the side of two others, whose resting-places were marked by crosses of decaying wood, the planter and I laid the little body for its last long sleep.
Laura's dooli was ready when we returned to the house, and a syce was bringing my horse round from the stables, coolies were taking up their burdens, and the time for our departure had come.
The planter went into Laura's room; and I awaited her in the verandah. The door opened, and she appeared, dressed for her journey, pale and wan with weeping—the very ghost of herself. Her husband supported her with his arm, and there were traces of strong emotion in his face. I drew back; for suddenly he clasped her in a farewell embrace, and, never heeding the presence of a crowd of servants and coolies, kissed her repeatedly.
"My love," he said, "must I lose you too?" God only knows what my happen before we meet again!"
Laura was settled in her dooli at last, and everything was ready; there was no possible excuse for further delay; we only waited for the word of departure, which the planter seemed loth to give.
