He at all
events was still in the dark as to the motive which had taken Feversham
southward beyond the Egyptian patrols. And he must remain in the dark.
For Ethne did not even now slacken in her determination still to pretend
to have forgotten. She stood at the window with the letter clenched in
her hand. She must utter no cry, she must not swoon; she must keep very
still and quiet, and speak when needed with a quiet voice, even though
she knew that Harry Feversham had gone southward to join Colonel Trench
at Omdurman. But so much was beyond her strength. For as Colonel
Durrance began to speak again, the desire to escape, to be alone with
this terrible news, became irresistible. The cool quietude of the
garden, the dark shadows of the trees, called to her.
"Perhaps you will wonder," said Durrance, "why I have told you to-night
what I have up till now kept to myself. I did not dare to tell it you
before. I want to explain why."
Ethne did not notice the exultation in his voice; she did not consider
what his explanation might be; she only felt that she could not now
endure to listen to it. The mere sound of a human voice had become an
unendurable thing. She hardly knew indeed that Durrance was speaking,
she was only aware that a voice spoke, and that the voice must stop.
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