"Ever yours, "H. S. AGGETT." "No, thanks. It is lovely here, and | clined to believe that no one has an I should like to stay forever. How the idea yet of what Sir John can do. tents are lifted by the mirage! And the temple seems hung in the blue above them. But we shall be in in ten minutes. Would you mind taking up my girth a little ?" "You weren't frightened when we got lost?" asked Holles in the same low tone, busying himself with the buckles. "I was awfully nervous about you. You didn't mind? Really?" She was rather tired. It was an agitating experience, and she had not let him see that she felt it more than he did. He was very close to her, and they were quite alone. She felt a strange shyness that was new to her. Words would not come. He looked up and saw the sweet eyes full of tears. "Dear, could you tell me, now?" She let her head droop a little towards his. The first thing Holles saw when he got into his tent was a letter marked 66 Immediate." He opened it without any particular interest. Then he saw it was from Colonel Aggett. "Providence!" said Holles. "Providence, Providence! If that dear little soul hadn't caved in, it would have looked like a bribe. The deuce is in it if I haven't a right to give her the horse now for her very own,' the darling." He took a train-card out of his pocket-book. Night mail stops at Chalisgam at 5 A.M. It can't be more than thirty miles across country. Jehanpoor, 9.30. Settle the whole thing and bring him down to Sidhwan by the evening train. What is it? Sixthirty. We should be in here by midnight, and she would find him ready for her on Christmas morning -Santa Claus, and that sort of thing." His thoughts went back to the morning. "What a pitiable funk I was in! Fancy my being afraid of Helen, Helen, Helen! Did I use to call her Miss Cave? Former state of being, all that. Sandy desert, life was! 'A green isle in the sea, love, a fountain, and a shrine !' Who says that? Fancy getting a new start alongside of a sinless creature like that, who believes in you, bless her silly little soul! I wonder if Ghulam Mohamed has the gift of prophecy as well as private inquiry. What was it? Lots of boys No, my imagination won't run to boys. I could fancy her with one little girl. We'll take Sir John home with us, hanged if we won't, and drive his great-grandchildren. England will be a bit of change for him." "Glegg's Hotel, Malsein, Dec. 22. "My dear Holles, If you care about getting the best horse in India, bar none, for half his value, now is the time. On getting back here after seeing you, I found that Mellish had arrived from Agra, via Jehanpoor. Poor devil! he is dying of liver, and his one chance is to be off by the mail of the 26th. Perhaps you don't know that he is the owner of Sir John. Riddell, who bought him from Sykes, was one of the Nynee Tal victims. He brought the horse down with him to Jehanpoor, with a notion that Creyke would jump at him. Creyke being after dacoits, "Change! He's had a fair lot of it Heaven knows where, he finds himself in the last nine months! What the in a hole. He will take Rs. 4,000. If devil did that fellow mean, I wonyou could get into Jehanpoor on the der? Temper seems all right, by all 24th, a wire from you to Greyleigh's would settle the matter. The horse is now with Fawcett, R. A., who, ou getting a telegram from Mellish, would hand him over to you at once. "From all I hear, I should be in The word gave his thoughts a new direction. accounts. I'll ride him myself through the bazaars at Jehanpoor, show him an elephant, if there's one in the place, and get a notion of his manners all round before I put Her on him. wish I'd taken that blessed tailoring I chap by the throat and throttled it out | in that direction. Then she glanced of him, whatever it was. But he was so beastly civil. All that about barsati was rot. Bonnor will own up now. Here he comes ! Hillo, Bonnor! Happy? I should just think I was Look here, old man, I must get over to Chalisgam to-night, somehow." IV. into the vast vacuity of the big tent, under the door awning of which she was standing. No; a morning greeting in there would be even more embarrassing than outside. So she put on her helmet by way of disguising her sweet, rosy color, and stood her ground as composedly as she might. Merry Christmas!" said Holles, NOTHING shows the impatience of coming up quite unembarrassed. uniformity in the Anglo-Saxon charac-"What, you won't wish me one!" as ter more than the diversity of modes in she seemed to have forgotten to speak. which Christmas day is observed in "Oh, I wished you that quite early,' different Christmas camps. Here it is she said at last, regaining a little haud Sunday pure and simple, plus the tradi- that perhaps felt rather crumpled. tional viands. There it is only plum" You did not get in till after midnight. pudding and mince pie that distinguish | But I heard you ride in," blushing and it from any other holiday. At the Bon- smiling with a shy, delicious sense of nors' a compromise had been struck. his pleasure at the confession. There was good snipe ground within "You ought to have been asleep for three miles. By favor of special in-hours, miss," says Holles severely. dulgence issued by Mrs. Bonnor, who "You did go to sleep then, I hope." represented orthodox practice, the men "Directly. That minute. I just were allowed to have a bit of shooting said, 'Thank God for bringing' — for in the morning, while the ladies looked bringing you back safe, you know, and on as long as they could, and then rode then I was asleep. Mrs. Bonnor said home, put on their Sunday bonnets, you would be so tired with your mysteand were ready for service at eleven rious journey that you wouldn't be up sharp, by which time the shooters till quite late. She didn't tell me she would be back. Breakfast after church, meant to go out as early as this with then fays ce que voudras till afternoon everybody" (looking up with another tea and Badminton brought everybody blush); "and then when I came out together again. all I found was a note to say I was to take care of you.” This arrangement implied an early start, so early, indeed, that when Miss Cave came out in her little pale grey district riding-habit, with a white helmet swinging on her arm, and looked round in expectation of confronting rather a crowd of early tea-ers, she found nobody, not even the crumbs that had fallen from their tables. All traces of earlier occupation had been removed, and nothing was to be seen in the shadow of the great dining-tent but a couple of basket chairs and a tiny tea-table set out for two, upon which lay a note which seemed to cause Miss Cave infinitely more confusion than its diminutive size would have led you to suppose. She looked towards her own quarters in the ladies' wing of the great encampment, but gave up the idea of retreat "Bless her!" says Holles. "There is a mounted policeman to take us on to where they have all gone. Where did you go yesterday?" "Oh, nowhere. Only just in the evening, before everybody came in, I walked with her to the top of the little hill where they are building the temple, and saw the sun set over the marsh. It looked, oh, so melancholy, as if everything one cared for was sinking into that dreadful waste, and nothing but desolation was left. And then the mist grew and grew like a white pall. And you were away, and I was frightened. It was so silly. I am not like that generally, you know," apologetically. "But I was so glad to hear you come in." "Child, child ! ” says Holles con tritely. "To think you should pain | Holles falls a little behind to give his yourself like that about a brute like companion plenty of room. me! I'm not worth it, dear." "You are worth everything, everything, everything to me," she says in the lowest of possible whispers. Then she offers him in pantomime another cup of tea, her voice not being quite up to the utterance of the important question. "No, thanks. And now we'll start. Bring the horses" (to the servants). "We have another mount for you to-day, Helen." The two stand together under the awning. He lays his hand upon her shoulder, and she lets herself sway half an inch towards him, smiling. What is it to her what she rides, if she rides with him? Then the horses come round. She looks at the grey with the sidesaddle with half-careless interest. Then a look comes over her face that has never been there before, and she raises her eyes to his. It is miraculous; but all miracles pale before the great miracle of the love that has come into her heart. She lets herself be put up without a word. Sir John moves off buoyant, playing lightly with his bit, and stepping delicately with the self-consciousness inherited from a hundred admired progenitors. The girl in the saddle feels it a duty to make her pride match his. She sits slim, poised, erect, borne by the elastic force beneath her like a seabird on a dancing wave, exulting all through in the doubled loveliness that is his. "Life piled on life" could never produce a moment to cast that into eclipse. The guide in front strikes into a canter as they turn down the little village street. In front is a cart drawn by a couple of oxen, toiling up the ascent with a load of spars-scaffolding for the upper courses of the spire. One end of the longest of all is between the heads of the cattle, the other projects high aloft, some twenty feet beyond the tail of the cart. There is space to pass. The outrider canters by without drawing rein. It was one of those things against which no forethought can guard. A few wild hog haunt the borders of the marsh. They were on the move, disturbed by the shooting. A wild boar, once out of his country, will go anywhere. A grey old tusker comes lumbering in his heavy gallop over the hill, past the temple and its busy workmen, right across the street the cart is ascending. The slow bullocks hurl themselves on one side, active for the moment as stags in the extremity of their panic. The spar is whirled round like the spoke of a capstan when a cable parts. Miss Cave had glanced back with a smile to acknowledge her lover's care for her. There was a horrible crash. The horse canters on alone, hardly scared. "Ses In five minutes all was over: dix-huit ans, hélas ! et son doux rêve." V. "COME out of this beastly place somewhere, can't you? I want to speak to you," said Holles three weeks later, cutting short Ghulam Mohamed's respectful demonstrations of welcome with unrestrainable irritation. "Master come in Circus," said Ghulam, eager in compliance. "Circus close by. No man there this time. I take where wind not come. This wind bad for master." An arid north-easter was sweeping angry dust along the streets of Malsein, curdling the very blood of the halfnaked coolies who cowered behind the angles of the houses, seeking shelter from the numbing cold. The hard glare of the sun did not warm; it only sent chill shivers over the shrinking skin. As they left the shop Holles shuddered. The wind seemed to blow through him. He had not been ill; he had not broken down. Only the delight in existence that bids defiance to externals was dead. They turned down a passage and came out between two piles of stately buildings-segments of a circle enclosing a public garden. It was ar Sir John." caded, and offered a choice of shelter. | curse. Only a stray native clerk hurried along mouth. here and there, or a couple of coolies struggled with a bale at the entrance of one of the warehouses which formed the ground floor of the palatial offices overhead. Commercial Malsein was at Tongue black, hang out of Man no liear, but tongue move till he die. He curse still. He say that horse carry curse. Where he go, that go. What man get that horse, he ruin, die, go to hell. Then he die. Little time, king's brother poison king, get horse. By and by mad Arab man kill him in masjid. All people much frighten. Then wicked man he say, ‘I take horse, go Malsein, sell Feringhi Kafir.' Then that Arab that tell story laugh; all laugh plenty. Then I come in ship with master. When I go stable, I hear Abdool Rizak talk with Arab man, and I know same horse. So I say master, 'No buy.'" He stopped. Holles knew of the injustice of what he was going to say, but the impotence of his anger drove him to speech. "And why in the couldn't you tell me? tell Wybrow?" buy." name of Satan Why didn't you Holles did not speak. The man went on: - "I born Aden. Father Borah in "Master laugh if I tell. Wybrow camp. I know Arab language all same Sahib he say, 'Ghulam Mohamed, you Arab. One month before I see master dam fool.' How I know master not I go Aden. There I hear Arab man change mind if Wybrow Sahib no buy ? talk, tell story. He Riad man, long I lend him eight hundred rupees for way up country. People there not civilize bloody people. What he tell? This way. One sheikh of tribe that live in tent in desert, poor-man tribe, have mare, good mare, caste A1. By and by colt. Colt so good all man call on name of Prophet when see him. King hear, send for sheikh, much money give for colt. 'No,' he say; 'I not give.' King say, 'Your father not pay my tax.' Take colt. Poor "Wybrow Sahib die cholera. Sykes Sahib soon make carpet in Khooshbund Jail. Riddell Sahib under hill in Nynee Tal. Mellish Sahib bury in sea off Perim. Master go home alive. Sick now, well by and by. Master give leave, I say wise word of Persian poet: man helpless, go away. After one Little bit peach flower blow on wind over month steal colt back. King send soldier, catch, put on stick. Three days he live." "Put on stick?" I garden wall to me. go in peach-tree garden, then I pick flower how many I please. "So beautiful Missy Sahib come Malsein, all same one little bit flower. Master he go England, then Holles laughed out. A couple of natives passing looked round sharply. It was like the cry of a tortured animal. "Well, good-bye, Mr. Ghulam," he "Stick through body, stick fix in ground. All time he live, he curse. Master not know Arab language. Englishman swear nothing. Native Indian swear-nothing. Arab first-class language for swear. And this man curse better than other Arab, because said, putting out his hand. "You did he good man, religious man, know all you could, and I'm very much Kuran all same Moolah. Body rot; obliged to you." eyes drop same like fat in sun. Still he JOIN KENT. From Temple Bar. "La sorrowful anxiety in his great dark eyes which was almost terrible in its "MAINTENANT que l'enfant est fait, pathos. Clearly he was one of those il faut : 1° tâcher de la faire vivre long- upon whom sorrow had fallen before temps; 2° tâcher de la faire réguer un he had the strength to bear it. jour. J'y travaillerai de mon mieux." Duchesse d'Orléans et le Comte de These are the words in which, August Paris," was whispered from group to 4th, 1838, the Duke d'Orléans an- group, and the députés looked at each nounced to his sister the birth of other in evident embarrassment. That the Comte de Paris, his firstborn. mournful-looking child was now, by The young duke, strong and vigorous though he was, had not much time for the work he wished to accomplish; he died before his child was four years old, and it almost seems as if with him died all hope of that child's ever reiguing. On the morning of February 24th, 1848, there was keen anxiety in the Palais Bourbon, for the streets around were thronged with an angry crowd, and, although the députés had the best will in the world to earn cheap popularity by yielding whatever the populace desired, petitions can hardly be granted before they are presented. Louis Philippe had abdicated; there fore, whatever shadow of authority remained was in the hands of these députés. They were honestly bent upon devising some means of putting an end to the crisis, but it is not easy to solve political problems when a shrieking crowd is within hailing distance, and the sharp, whizzing sound of shots is ringing through the air; little wonder the députés, in despair, fell to mutual recrimination; and, in turn, attacked with equal violence the king, the people, and each other. Speech after speech was made, but no one listened; the time for words was past. right of inheritance, their king; but then, who knew what the populace was going to do? It would be neither wise nor safe to anticipate its sovereign will. Eleven years before, the Parisians had given a warm welcome to this duchess, who came to them then as a bride; later they had hailed the birth of her boy with outbursts of wild delight; but in those days the brilliant young Duc d'Orléans was alive to cast a halo around his wife and child by exciting the enthusiastic loyalty of the people. Now they stood alone, nay, worse than alone, for the Duc de Nemours, the best hated man in France, had declared himself their protector. When Louis Philippe entered the room where his family was assembled, and in that calm, business-like voice of his announced that he had abdicated, the Duchesse d'Orléans sprang to her feet, and declared not a moment must be lost; her son must be proclaimed at once. She wished to drive with him through the city, show him to the people, appeal to the députés on his behalf. Perhaps, as she spoke, a vision of that scene in the Hungarian assembly, where a mother saved a crown for a son, rose before her mind; but, noble-minded, unselfish woman as she was, she was no Maria Theresa, and Just when the excitement was at its the cool, critical attitude those around height, a lady and two children ap- her assumed, depressed her. Enthupeared at the door a piteous little siasm must be very staunch, very heartgroup in truth. The lady wore a wid- felt, to be utterly impervious to shrugs ow's long black robe, and was white of the shoulder. The poor duchess's and trembling; her face was tear- courage began to waver before she left stained, and her frame shook from the Tuileries. When she appeared at time to time with a convulsive sob. the garden entrance, not a cheer was The elder of the children, a boy of ten, clutched his mother's hand with passionate energy, and scanned the faces of those around him with a depth of raised; there was an ominous murmur when the little comte and his brother shrank back, in evident fear, at the sight of the crowd; the wise are chary |