A few steps further on, and Kakrey turned the ponies into a side street, and stopped at the handsome gateway of a respectable house. The steps up to the entrance being easy, the active mountain animals scrambled up them in turn, and their riders were thus taken at once into the first court. Then, when the gates were closed, Goolab lifted them from their seats; and the men, who had remained without, took possession of the guard-room inside the first archway, which, while it afforded ample accommodation, enabled them to continue their protection to the last.

Once more in private, and their mufflings removed, and as Goolab led Lurlee into the second court, they were met by a lady of middle age, who, attended by several servants, advanced and saluted them cordially, yet with a peculiar reverence.

"The wife and daughter of Afzool Khan are welcome to our poor house. O lady! why did you not advise me of your coming?"

"Who art thou?" asked Lurlee faintly, "and who told thee of us?"

"My husband was at his office in the bazar," replied the lady, "and some men came asking for shelter for noble travellers who were very weary. He asked who they were, and was told of you. O lady, your steps are fortunate, and Alla hath led you here to do us honour. Many benefits hath my lord received from the noble Khan, and there is much to repay—very much."

"Have you hot water for a bath, lady?" cried Goolab, interrupting her, "and some decent clothes instead of these, and some food that noble ladies can eat? They will be better than fine words. Alas! that for the last four days we have eaten dry parched pease, dry bread, garlic, and porridge—unblessed food, O lady; and my mistress, you see, is ill of it, and talking to her won't cure her!"

"Fear not," replied the dame, smiling; "we have had scant notice, yet we may do something," and she was as good as her word. Hot water to bathe with, was quickly prepared, and clean refreshing clothes; and the rubbings and kneadings of several young girls relieved their weary aching limbs. Soft cushions were put down to lie on; and there was a hospitable, grateful hostess ministering to every want. Even Lurlee's churlish humour was already softened by the attention paid to her; and she remembered, with satisfaction, in spite of her late disbelief, that the day was Thursday, and that, as she entered the house between five and six in the afternoon, the hour was ruled by Mercury, and was propitious.

About the same time, a body of horsemen—there might have been from two to three hundred of them—were approaching the town from the other side, through the camp which spread out irregularly among the fields and gardens. Their horses neighed frequently as they passed tents where others were picketed, seemingly envious of their rest and comfort; and the appearance of the whole party, jaded and wayworn, indicated a long weary march in a hot sun that day, which had now come to a close.

As they passed the first tents, the men loitering by the wayside asked carelessly who they were, and being told, followed them eagerly; while the news that one remnant of the noble host which had been so treacherously destroyed at PurtÂbgurh had arrived, traversed the camp before them. As men of the Paigah of Afzool Khan were recognized, many a rough heart swelled, many an eye filled with tears, as the horsemen proceeded: while crowds followed them, greeting old friends who had escaped, or tendering their respectful salutations to the young Khan, and congratulating him on his escape.

Bulwunt Rao and the hunchback were in front, and as they neared the town urged their horses on. "Wait for us at the gate; we will not be long, and will bring the water," cried the latter; and when Fazil reached it, a litter—which had been rudely constructed of a bed-frame and stout bamboo poles, covered with some coarse sheets—by which he had been riding, was set down. The men who had carried it were exhausted, and as they placed it on the ground, lay down themselves at a little distance.

Fazil dismounted and approached it. "Tara!" he said, "Tara! art thou asleep? We have arrived, and there is now no more fatigue or danger. O Tara, awake!"

The girl turned mechanically towards him, but did not seem to recognize him; her eyes were much glazed, and her lips cracked and parched. "Water," she said faintly.

"Alas! I dare not give it thee, Tara," he replied. "O my life—O beloved, look up! wait but till they return, and all will be well!"

She shook her head, and a smile, very sad and sweet, seemed to pass over her face, but she did not speak. Fazil looked out among the people passing to and fro; perhaps there might be a Brahmun among them, who could give her a few drops of water to moisten her mouth, but he saw none. How wearily the time seemed to pass! With what impatience did he watch the gate whence Lukshmun or Bulwunt Rao, on their double errand, should return; and with what misery did he look upon the poor girl, lying in heavy fever, without the means of relieving her! How he longed for his sister or Lurlee! but it might be days ere they arrived, and till then he must trust her to strangers.

It had been a weary day, indeed—a day of intense anxiety to all who accompanied him. Under the excitement of release from imminent death, and in the rapid ride of the afternoon of her rescue, Tara had borne the fatigue wonderfully; and as night set in, and they took some hurried rest among the corn-fields of a village, Fazil hoped that she would sleep, and be refreshed against the morrow; but it was not to be so. During the night the girl began to speak incoherently at times, and it was evident that she suffered from high fever. Still they must proceed; there was no delaying there. The tracks of his party were distinct, and a force of the enemy's horse might yet overtake them and destroy them if they tarried.

So, after feeding their horses on green corn-stalks, and themselves obtaining a rough meal from the green heads of corn roasted in a fire, they again set forth. They had no other food, for they dare not stay to cook it, and they had avoided villages as likely to expose themselves to collision with the surly people. Once or twice, straggling parties of cavalry had been met; but they had passed without notice, and the farther they proceeded, the less chance there was of interruption. So far all was well; but Tara grew worse, and could no longer sit the horse on which she had been placed; so, in a village which was passed, a litter was contrived, a drink of milk obtained, and the party again set forward. Finally, they had arrived safely at Kurrar; but Tara now knew no one, she could not be roused to speak, and lay moaning piteously, as if in pain.

"When she gets water it will refresh her," thought Fazil, as he sat helplessly by her, praying, in his own simple fashion, that God would be good to him and spare her. "Weariness and the terror of death have caused this," he said to himself, "and rest alone can cure it."

At last Lukshmun returned with a Brahmun and some water, and the man, looking into the litter, shook his head hopelessly.

"She is dying," he said; "let her be taken out and placed on the ground, that her spirit may depart easily."

Fazil flung him away angrily. "She shall not die," he cried passionately; "give her the water—as much as she will drink." But it was of little avail,—she scarcely swallowed any, and motioned the man away with her head impatiently.

Then came Bulwunt Rao. "I had much ado to find the merchant," he said, "and when I did, he told me strange guests were already with him, and that he could not find room for a Brahmun woman. Nevertheless he yielded at last, and we are to go. I rode by the house. The porch was full of men, so we must seek shelter elsewhere. The merchant said he would meet you at the door of the house, but he does not yet know who you are. I did not tell him. I only said you were a nobleman of Beejapoor."

"And why did you not tell him?" cried Fazil, with some impatience; "he owed my father a thousand benefits."

"So much the better, Meah," returned Bulwunt, "and he looks as though he would repay them. Come, it is close by."

The bearers again took up the litter and carried it on. Fazil accompanied it on foot, holding the side; and at the same door which we have already described, stood a pleasant-looking man, dressed in flowing Arab robes and a green turban, and several servants behind him,—who saluted Fazil courteously as he stood aside for the litter to go by.

"Meer Jemal-oo-deen, if thou art he," said Fazil, "will have forgotten one whom he knew long ago."

"I have forgotten your face," returned the man, "yet you are welcome, and the peace of the Prophet be upon you. Who are you?"

"Fazil, the son of Afzool Khan," was the reply.

"O, great joy! O, thanks be to Alla!" cried the man, lifting up his hands, "and blessed be the saints and the Prophet who have sent thee. Embrace me, and come in quickly, for thy mother and sister have also been brought to us, and are safe within."

"Then she will live! they will save her!" cried the young man excitedly. "They will save her! O Meer Sahib, where are they?"

"Within, in the zenana," replied the merchant. "Sorely exhausted, I hear, but already better; and she?" and he pointed to the litter.

"No matter, sir," said Fazil, advancing; "all will be told you hereafter. She is much to them; but she is grievously shaken, and we lose time. She cannot speak, and is burning with fever."

"Ah, is it so? Then let her be carried in," and he clapped his hands. "Take that litter within at once," he said to the women who came; "then see to the lady who is in it."

Four stout women took up the litter, carried it into the inner court, and set it down.

Lurlee and Zyna were lying in an inner room, the door of which was open, and from whence the entrance to the court could be seen. "What can they be bringing in?" said Lurlee, as she saw the end of the strange litter entering the door. "A man following, too! Begone!" she screamed violently, hiding her face under the sheet; "begone! this place is private."

"Mother," cried Fazil, who heard her voice but did not see her; "it is I; and here is Tara. Come, O Zyna; where art thou? Come quickly to her."

O delicious joy! Lurlee, forgetting all her previous troubles, sprang from the bed on which she had been lying languidly, and Zyna followed; and they fell upon his neck with low whimpering cries, like dogs when they have found a lost master. Where was fatigue now?

Tara! It was far in the night ere consciousness returned to her. "No matter, Alla hath sent her again to us," said Goolab, whose ideas were always of the most practical description; "she is ours now, and we will bathe her." And some Brahmun women, who lived hard by, came and assisted. So, ere morning broke, Tara was lying on Lurlee's bosom sobbing gently: and, with her loving arms wound round her recovered treasure, Zyna was sobbing too.