The day passed somehow, but the dinner was dismal. Miss Westonhaugh was
evidently far from well, and I could not conceive that the pain of a
temporary parting should make so sudden a change in one so perfectly
strong and healthy--even were her nature ever so sensitive. Kildare and
the Pegnugger magistrate tried to keep up the spirits of the party, but
John Westonhaugh was anxious about his sister, and even old Mr. Currie
Ghyrkins was beginning to fancy there must be something wrong. We sat
smoking outside, and the young girl refused to leave us, though John
begged her to. As we sat, it may have been half an hour after dinner, a
messenger came galloping up in hot haste, and leaping to the ground
asked for "Gurregis Sahib," with the usual native pronunciation of my
euphonious name. Being informed, he salaamed low and handed me a letter,
which I took to the light. It was in _shikast_ Persian, and signed
"Abdul Hafiz-ben-Isak." "Ram Lal," he said, "has met me unexpectedly,
and sends you this by his own means, which are swift as the flight of
the eagle. It is indispensable that you meet us below Keitung, towards
Sultanpoor, on the afternoon of the day when the moon is full. Travel by
Julinder and Sultanpoor; you will easily overtake me, since I go by
Simla. For friendship's sake, for love's sake, come.
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