Tara advanced, still trembling, and clinging to Goolab, and trying to hide her face in the end of her garment; she was only sensible of the same sweet voice, as a girl of great, and to her strange, beauty, took her in her arms, embraced her, and said gently, "Peace be unto you! you are welcome, with the peace and blessing of Alla upon you!" and that another taller and older lady embraced her in like manner, and said the same. After that for a long while she remembered nothing.

When she recovered, she was lying upon a soft bedding in a small room, near an open window which looked out upon the lake that encircled the fort, glowing with the reflection of piles of sunset-clouds. On what seemed an island in the lake was a Hindu temple, with a high pyramidical roof, around which hung the rich foliage of several magnificent trees, and temple and trees were reflected double in the still water. These were the first objects that met her sight.

Then, turning round, the same young face that she had seen on entering the apartment bent over her, and a soft warm hand was passed over her face, and the ends of the fingers kissed in loving greeting; but the girl did not speak, though a sweet smile spread over her features, and she seemed to beckon with her left hand to another person behind her, whom Tara could not see. Another moment and her deliverer advanced, saluting her respectfully.

Fazil had ridden fast to overtake Tara, but had not succeeded. Twenty men, a light palankeen, and the hope of a liberal reward, had induced the bearers to put out their utmost speed, and they had well redeemed their promise of reaching their destination before sunset; but he had arrived soon after.

"Go away, brother," said Zyna, "do not speak to her now; you have seen that she is safe—that is enough."

"My sister," he replied in Persian, that Tara might not understand, "not so. It will grieve her, and thee too, sorely, but she must know the truth. Do not go away. I will speak to her in her own tongue, and show her these sad memorials which I have brought. It is mercy not to delay in such cases.—Can you listen to me, lady, a few moments?" he continued to Tara; "what I have to tell you is not worse than what you have already heard, but it will confirm it; and truth and reality are ever better than doubt."

"If you please to say it, sir," said Tara, who had arisen directly she saw Fazil approaching, and stood by the window.

"If—if—you saw anything that had belonged to them you would know it, perhaps," said Fazil hesitatingly.

Tara's bosom heaved so that she could not speak. She appeared as if gasping for breath, with the same distressing symptoms as when, in the morning, he had told her first of her bereavement,—and she trembled violently. She could not stand, and crouched down against the wall.

"O, not now, brother! not now," pleaded Zyna, who put her arm round Tara, and was supporting her.

But Fazil was merciless. "It must be," he said. "And now, lady, listen. If you had any doubt, these will remove it. After I left you the second time I went to the KuchÉri, for what JÁnoo NÄik told me he had left there, and these were given as having belonged to your mother, Anunda Bye, and your stepmother, Radha Bye. Look at them."

As he spoke he untied a bundle he held, and poured the contents at her feet; heavy gold and silver ornaments of some value, and a few rings.

Tara looked at them for a moment. The silver chain anklets, which were her mother's, were dabbled with blood, now dry on them; the gold pair had been made after those on her own feet for Radha's marriage, by her brother Moro. Enough—all were familiar objects. They swam before her eyes—the room seemed whirling round, and, weak as she was, she sank down again utterly unconscious, with Zyna crying over her.

"Let them remain," said Fazil, "she must see them when she recovers, else she will not believe. Show them to her one by one. I dare not stay;" and he left the room.

Tara had not however fainted, but she was gasping for breath, and Zyna called to Goolab to bring a fan, while she opened the casement of the window still more, to let in air. "He said—he said," sobbed Tara, trying to speak; "lady, I cannot speak—I am choking—O! why do I not die? He said——"

"He said you were to look at them all, one by one," said Zyna, trying to check her own sobs and tears. "He is kind. Fazil, my brother, would not give you pain unless it were for good. Look! here they are," and Zyna spread out the ornaments with her own hands, shuddering at the blood upon them.

Tara looked earnestly at Zyna; the eyes were full of misery—so full that Zyna could not bear them—passed her hands over her own, pressing them tightly, then looked away. Tara turned the ornaments vacantly over and over, sighing, and, as it were, catching her breath convulsively. There was one, a ring with a sapphire set in it, with which she knew her mother never parted, for she believed that without it evil would happen to her, and that it had brought prosperity. It used sometimes to be put on the altar when they worshipped Lakshmee, the Goddess of Wealth—else it never left her mother's hand; but it was there. Zyna did not know this then, but she saw Tara's hand tremble very much as she took it up and looked at it carefully. There was a dark stain inside, and Tara put down the ring, gasping, as it were, for breath, then took it up again.

Zyna watched wonderingly, the changing expressions which passed over the beautiful features: first despair; then, as it seemed to her, prayers were murmured in a language she did not understand, and the features appeared to relax, the upturned eyes glistened, there was a look as if of hope or triumph upon the face. She moved closer to Tara, still closer, as she thought she saw tears gathering in the hot eyes. If Tara could only weep it would be well. Zyna passed her left arm round her, and gently drew the girl's head on er own shoulder and bosom; it fell softly there and rested; the hand which held the ring dropped on her lap, beating restlessly; but the other grasped her so that it almost caused pain. Kind nature did not suffer the terrible struggle to continue longer, else Tara had died; and with almost a shriek of pain, her tears burst forth uncontrollably.

"Thank God for it," said Lurlee, who had entered, and was standing over them, and who now passed her hands over Tara, as Goolab had done; "she will be easier for this, and the worst is past: let her weep. The blessing of Alla and the Prophet on thee, my daughter," she said to Tara. "I salute thee with peace! Thou hast entered at a fortunate moment, and there is joy following thy grief. Fear not; thou hast come to those who will be to thee what thou hast lost."

"She will require much care, mother," said Zyna; "feel how she is trembling; I will not leave her. Ah, yes—that is the reason; take away those things, Goolab; wash them and put them by."

Goolab took them up, and with all her choicest epithets of "Poor little rose! my pretty dove! my lily! my own life!" she tried to soothe the girl; but Tara heeded no one. Keeping the ring clutched in her own hand, she hid her face in Zyna's bosom, then suffered her gradually to lay her head down on her knee, and rock it softly. She dared not speak, but tried to look up gratefully, sometimes, and then clung the closer to her gentle nurse.

"Hush," said Zyna, as fresh bursts of tears often occurred, "I know what has happened, and I will not leave thee, Tara; no, never now. And he, my brother, says it too." So they sat and lay—the two girls—long into the night; and gradually, unable to resist the kindness lavished on her, Tara spoke a little, and Zyna encouraged it, and heard wonderingly, Tara's simple tale of trial and sorrow.

That night, too, her future fate was the subject of earnest debate, often approaching the verge of passion, between Afzool Khan, his son, and the priest. What could they do with a Brahmun orphan, a heathen unbeliever who was a captive, and a slave, by the laws of war? Long and earnestly did the priest plead that she should forthwith be sent to the royal harem. So beautiful a slave would be cherished, loved, and have every luxury at her command; she might become the mother of princes, and the head of the state; and Afzool Khan supported this opinion, which was borne out by texts from the law, plausibly quoted by the Peer.

But Fazil opposed them both, gently yet firmly, and at last almost fiercely. "She is my captive, if captive at all," he said; "my slave, taken in war, according to your own texts, Huzrut—and I can release her, or ransom her, or keep her, as I will. She has relatives at Wye, where we are going, and with your permission, father, she can stay with us till then; we will be her safeguard, honourably and truly. After that," he added with some little confusion, "she can act for herself, and of her own free will; but to send her to the palace, to be decked out and noticed for a while, and then flung aside—no, father; better she died, or better still that we now turned her into the street, to shift for herself among her own people."

"That would be inhospitable, son, if no more," returned his father; "well, boy, let her stay, and welcome. No matter," he thought to himself, "if he have his own way in this thing." The Khan was decidedly in good humour. The kichÉri, kabobs, and some other dishes which were especial favourites, had been dressed to perfection by Lurlee, and were relished, as they can best be, with the zest insured by a long ride.

Lurlee had met him in good humour, and the stars were in propitious conjunction to welcome his arrival. The lady had nothing but good to say of Tara, whose beauty and sad history had at once deeply impressed her. "What if she be an infidel," she said, "she will make the better true believer. Let her stay with us, O Khan! she shall be a daughter to me," and the lady sighed. "There is nothing unlucky about the period of her arrival, for the sun was in conjunction with Jupiter, and she was born under Venus, she says; and as she is a Brahmun she knows all about her horoscope and the planets; besides, is not this Wednesday, and she arrived between five and six in the evening, under Venus, so that she is born to us under the same planet as she was born to her own parents? Is not that curious? and by-and-by I shall call her Fazila, according to the blessed scheme of nativity sent by the prophets. And listen further, Khan," continued the lady, pausing and examining her book. "Her name now begins with a T, and that stands for Air, and is lucky, because——" and she was nearly saying it aloud, only she checked herself in time, "because," she said to herself, "Fazil's name begins with an F, and that means Fire, and fire and air always agree best, because the one cannot exist apart from the other."

"I don't understand, Lurlee," said the Khan, "how it is. What about fire?"

"Never mind," replied the lady knowingly, "you will find out more by-and-by, Khan! there is a good deal to be done before then."

So Tara escaped another great peril which she knew not of, and remained as an honoured and welcome guest with her new protectors. And in a few days, when Afzool Khan had made the necessary arrangements, his army was ready to move on. These need no detail at our hands, except as concerns two characters in our history who did not accompany it.

The first was Kowas Khan, who, recalled by the King to manage the affairs of his own troops, returned from Sholapoor to the capital. The young man regretted the necessity; for to share a campaign in real service with his friend Fazil, had ever been one of his most cherished plans. The King's order was, however, peremptory, and was obeyed. "When we return," said the old Khan to him as they parted, "the days of mourning will be expired, and thou shalt have thy desire."

With him was sent the Lalla, who, being naturally of an unwarlike nature, rejoiced at the prospect of escaping hardships of no ordinary kind. And was not Kowas Khan the late Wuzeer's son, and nominal Wuzeer himself? He might become actually so, and what a field for advancement was opened to him if this should be! "May your prosperity increase, may you be victorious," he said to the father and son as he took leave of them. "Inshalla! your poor servant will write you news of the city and court, after the true imperial fashion, which is more his vocation than recording battles; only remember that your slave is grateful."

Afzool Khan's army, now organized in all respects, set forward on its march. A few miles only were traversed daily, and it would require a month or more ere they could reach Wye. Sometimes a house was found for the ladies in a village or town near which the forces encamped; but more frequently they were in the Khan's tents, which were infinitely pleasanter. The two girls grew together, the more as the first restraint passed away; and the lady Lurlee and Zyna were never tired of hearing from the lips of the beautiful heathen, the simple story of her life, her widowhood, and her strange rescue from dishonour.

Was Tara happy? Yes; when she thought of what her fate must have been had she not been rescued from Moro Trimmul, or even if Fazil had yielded to her first entreaties, and let her go without inquiry. She knew not then of the further escape from the royal harem which Fazil had secured; but as it was, gratitude to him had already become the main feeling of her life. Of her parents' death she had no doubt whatever now. The other members of the family would have claimed the property and cast her off. Widow and priestess combined, she would have been helpless against the insult and profligacy of men of her own faith, and now she was at least safe. She was grateful, therefore, and, for the most part, happy too.

But often, as she wept bitterly under the old memories of an innocent and happy home, the loving arms of her mother seemed clasped about her once more, and her caresses almost palpably felt, while the glistening eyes of the goddess appeared to follow her, sleeping and waking, with a reproachful look of desertion. In these moments, Tara endured bitter grief; but ever at hand were the gentle remonstrances of her new mother and sister, and to them also were joined those of her deliverer which, in the constant association which grew out of a camp life, she felt becoming more and more powerful day by day.