Moreover, no power on earth would have kept her away
from Daisy now that she knew herself to be wanted.
Though more than half of the three days' journey lay across the
sweltering Plains, she contemplated it without anxiety, even with
rejoicing. At last, the breach, over which she had secretly mourned so
deeply, was to be healed.
The next morning at an early hour she was upon her way. She looked
out as she drove through the gates for the old native beggar who had
crouched at the entrance on the previous afternoon. He was not there,
but a little way further she met him hobbling along to take up his
post for the day. From the folds of his chuddah his unkempt beard
wagged entreaty at the carriage as it passed. Impulsively, because of
the gladness that was so new to her lonely heart, she leaned from the
window and threw him a rupee.
Looking back upon the journey later, she never remembered its tedium.
She was as one borne on the wings of love, and she scarcely noticed
the hardships of the way.
Will Musgrave met her according to his promise at the great junction
in the Plains. She found him exceedingly solicitous for her welfare,
but so grave and silent that she hardly liked to question him. He
thanked her very earnestly for coming, said that Daisy was about the
same, and then left her almost exclusively to the society of her ayah.
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