"Let us take a turn in the compound," said the major, "where no one can hear us."
For half an hour they walked up and down the garden. There could be no doubt about the truth of the news, for it was an official telegram from the adjutant at Meerut; and as to the extent of the misfortune, it was terrible.
"There is not a single white regiment at Delhi," exclaimed the colonel; "these fiends will have it all their own way, and at Delhi there are scores of European families. Delhi once in their hands will be a center, and the mutiny will spread like wildfire over India. What was the general at Meerut about? What were the white troops up to? It is as inexplicable as it is terrible. Is there anything to be done, major, do you think?" But Major Warrener could think of nothing. The men at present knew nothing of the news, but the tidings would reach them in two or three days; for news in India spreads from village to village, and town to town, with almost incredible speed, and Meerut was but a hundred and fifty miles distant.
"Had we better tell them inside?" the major asked.
"No," answered the colonel; "let them be happy for to-night; they will know the news to-morrow. As they are breaking up, ask all the officers to come round to the messroom; I will meet them there and we can talk the matter over; but let the ladies have one more quiet night; they will want all their strength and fortitude for what is to come."
And so, clearing their brows, they went into the house and listened to the music and joined in the talk until ten o'clock struck and every one got up to go, and so ended the last happy evening at Sandynugghur.
The next morning brought the news of the rising at
