In his last letter to Beejapoor, Moro Trimmul had directed his agent there to inform Maloosray that, at the day of which we write, there would be recitations in the temple, and, under cloak of this, that most of the heads of the Mahratta families were to assemble; it would, therefore, be advisable if he could meet them. It was partly on this account, but most particularly because of the murder of Khan Mahomed, that Tannajee had left the city so abruptly, and ridden through the night without a check.

Nor did Tannajee and his companion take rest anywhere during the day following, except for such refreshment as was absolutely necessary. They avoided all large towns and villages; and, as Tannajee knew the country perfectly by day, he guided his friend by cross paths, frequently through fields and waste lands, till, as the evening fell, they drew up before the gate of Sindphul, the village below the pass of Tooljapoor, which we have before had occasion to mention.

The owner, a distant relative of the Rajah Sivaji, by name Jeswunt Rao BhÓslay, was an intimate friend of Maloosray's, and a true and influential ally of the general cause in those districts. Maloosray's sudden arrival surprised him little, for in consequence of what Moro Trimmul had written, he had been expected; and, after a short conference, Maloosray urged that the news he had brought should be communicated to Moro Trimmul and those assembled with as little delay as possible, and in this Jeswunt Rao concurred.

So, after a slight rest and hearty meal, which both needed, the stout ponies, provided by their host, were announced to be ready in the courtyard of the house, and, accompanied by half-a-score of stout sword-and-buckler men, with matchlocks and lighted matches, they rode out of the village gate.

The active ponies, though well accustomed to the rough mountain-road, had paused for a moment to take breath on the level spot from whence the buildings could be seen below—the glare of light, spreading up both sides of the dell, revealing crag and rough wood, with the gilded pinnacles of the temple glittering brightly through the smoke of torches and of incense; but their impatient riders again urged them up the rocky ascent with all the speed they were capable of exciting. At the town gate there was no hindrance, for Jeswunt Rao was well known; so they were admitted without difficulty, and, leaving the animals at a house which belonged to him, adjoining the main street, the party proceeded at once in the direction of the temple.

It was no easy matter, however, to get there. As they approached the gate at the head of the steps descending into the ravine, and on the steps themselves, the crowds were almost impassable, but good-humour prevailed, and, after some struggles, the lower court and the great assembly were safely reached.

It was a remarkable sight. The court itself was crowded with spectators so closely packed that to move was impossible. They were sitting upon the paved floor in rows facing the centre, where an open space had been provided for the priests, and an avenue left for their communication with the shrine. Around this the most distinguished of the guests had been placed; and Maloosray observed with satisfaction, that many influential persons whom he desired to see, were present. So far, his visit could not have been better timed.

All round the court were huge cressets of iron, fixed into brackets in the walls and arches of the court. These were filled with cotton-seed which, fed with oil from time to time, threw a broad glare upon the people, and lighted up not only the temple and its quaint and fanciful ornaments, but the buildings around,—and above, the crags and precipices, with the houses hanging to them.

There was not a spot unoccupied; even the ledges and projections of the high pyramidal roof and spires of the temple were crowded, while the terraces of the vestibule and cloisters around, reserved for the ladies of the Hindu gentry of the neighbourhood, and of the chief visitors and priests, glowed with the gay colours of their garments, which stood out against the dark background of the mountain-side.

As the party advanced through the crowd, Moro Trimmul, who was among the Brahmun reciters, saw the tall figure of Maloosray behind that of Jeswunt Rao of Sindphul, who was struggling manfully with the crowd, and advanced hastily to greet him. He had hardly expected so prompt a compliance with his request, but was rejoiced that it had been made. He greeted Maloosray and Palkur heartily, and led them to the reserved space, where, recognized by many present, and speedily made known to others, they received a hearty welcome, and took their seats.

A few words whispered, sufficed to explain to Moro Trimmul the situation of affairs at Beejapoor, and the necessity for immediate action.

"We must dismiss the assembly earlier than usual," he said, in reply to Maloosray's anxious question as to how long the ceremonies would be continued, "and I will hasten what remains. Do not heed me; I have to take my part now, and as the assembly rises I will rejoin you."

Thus saying, Moro Trimmul passed into the dark vestibule of the temple, and was divesting himself of his upper garments and turban, when, from a pillar behind, the girl Gunga came towards him.

"I have been searching for thee," she said; "they wanted thee. Where hast thou been so long?"

"No matter where," he said gloomily. "Thou couldst have found me without, if needful. What hast thou done?"

"Nothing," she replied. "I cannot get speech of her, and the rest will not join me; they are afraid."

"So art thou, Gunga," he replied; "afraid, afraid of a girl? Ah, coward and liar!"

"Thou art afraid thyself, Moro Trimmul," she retorted. "Go! take her away. There she stands, no one will prevent thee; there, by the door—alone."

Moro Trimmul stepped from behind the pillar, still keeping within the gloom, and looked forward. Before the blaze of the shrine, and the lamps without it, stood Tara, in the act of bearing garlands of flowers to the altar. A number of them were hanging upon her left arm, while, with her right hand extended, she was delivering some to the priest.

As she stood at the door, in the full glare of the lamps within, the light fell upon her rich crimson silk drapery, its heavy borders and ends of flowered gold, and the massive gold zone which confined it round her waist; while the attitude she had involuntarily assumed, as she turned towards the shrine, showed the graceful outlines of her figure to peculiar advantage. She had wreathed a long garland of white flowers into her hair, which fell about her neck and bosom; and another was twisted round her brows, so as to form a coronet. It was a fanciful but simple and beautiful decoration, which suited the character of her small graceful head, and added to the charm of her attire.

Moro Trimmul watched her intently as she delivered the garlands to the old priest; then, as if a service had been done, she advanced to the centre of the doorway, and, making a low reverence, stepped aside and stood erect, looking into the vestibule in expectation, as it were, of further devotees. Moro Trimmul could see the sweet mouth parted in a smile, the pearly teeth glistening within the rosy lips, and the soft eyes flashing as the strong side light fell upon them. Beyond her the deep gloom of the recesses of the temple could not be penetrated. So her figure stood out against it in a power of effective relief which was almost startling.

It was a strange contrast. Within, the dreaded image, richly attired and covered with priceless jewels, the tiara on its head, and the weird ruby eyes, now sparkling brightly, now changing and glowing fitfully amidst the clouds of incense which was burning before it, and the black, stony, changeless features, seeming even to vary in expression with the passing effects of light and shadow. Without, Tara in her rich attire and glowing beauty, and that rapt expression in her countenance, which the excitement of the scene and the service of the "Holy Mother" had caused it to assume.

Moro Trimmul sighed. With all the fierce desire which burned within him, and which now gave him no rest night or day, there was mingled, curiously perhaps, a loving reverence for the girl, which, as yet, had restrained him both from violence and insult. It might be her character and position which had excited it, but rather, perhaps, her own innate purity and modesty of mind, and the charming simplicity of character, which he saw in daily exercise in her house, that controlled the fiery passions of his nature and his avowed unscrupulousness.

"If I were a man," sneered his companion, as she stood with him concealed behind the large pillar, "I should not be a coward when such a woman as that was burning at my heart. By the gods, she is no woman, but an incarnation of beauty. Look at her now!"

"Peace, devil," cried the Brahmun in a hoarse whisper; "hast thou forgotten the gold, and thy promise by the PÂp-nÂs?"

"No, I have not forgotten," said Gunga, "I have part of it here;" and she shook her foot, on which the gold anklets tinkled slightly; "and I want to change this silver thing round my waist for a zone like hers yonder. Ah, how it glows among the rich silk! But thou art a coward, Moro Trimmul, else I had earned it long ago; and I could have helped thee."

"Go and speak to her, Gunga, and I will believe thee braver than I am," he replied tauntingly. "If she cannot be spoken with, how wilt thou earn the zone?"

The girl regarded him with a look of defiance, and, without reply, stepped forward into the light, advanced towards the shrine, making a slight reverence to the image, glided forwards, and stood opposite to Tara.

"Thou hast served many hours, sister," she said, in an assumed voice of kindness, "and must be weary; sit down within for a while, and I will do what is needed; 'tis my office," she continued, laughing, "as well as thine."

Moro Trimmul marked the involuntary shudder of aversion which spread over Tara's countenance, and the action of withdrawing the skirts of her garment between her ankles, which accompanied it. Then she spoke.

"I am not weary of the Mother's service; when I am I will come no more," she said gently. "Go away; I will not speak with thee or thy people, and that thou knowest full well; go."

"And why should I go?" cried Gunga, excitedly; "am I not a Moorlee like thyself, and have I not served the Mother longer than thee? To be sure, I am neither a Brahmun nor a widow to be nice as thou art; yet I bid thee go, and let me have my turn: thou hast had more than thy share of money already to-day."

"It is all in the shrine before the Mother," said Tara, shrinking from the bold glances and excited manner of the girl. "I have taken none of it: I need it not."

"That does not matter," said Gunga; "I will have my turn now. Go away; thou art not wanted. Those that will not dance before the Mother are not worthy to serve her. Go, else some of us will push thee out."

"Me!" cried Tara, drawing up her slight figure proudly, her eyes flashing, and her features quivering with indignation,—"me! you dare not; you are impure, and the Mother loathes you: touch me, and she will strike you dead!"

Gunga shrunk from the trial; and others of her sisterhood, who had stood apart ready to advance, slunk again into the gloom behind the pillars. Gunga looked round as if for countenance, but no one seemed disposed to join her, while the old priest at the altar, who had caught the sound of voices, came to the door, and, seeing Gunga, waved her off.

"Away with ye, and the like of ye!" he cried. "Outside do as ye please; here ye are an offence. Away! let her stay;" and he pointed to Tara. "Do not molest her."

"There is some spell about thee, Tara, which shuts my mouth; beware!" muttered Gunga, retreating; "it may not always be so."

"Bear me witness," said Tara to the old priest, "she is threatening me."

"Ah, daughter," he replied, smiling, "fear not such as she; the Mother is good to thee; and they cannot harm thee so long as thou art holy and pure."

"I did not tell thee to quarrel with her," said Moro Trimmul angrily, seizing Gunga's arm as she approached, and dragging her within the shadow of the pillar. "Art thou mad, or has any one given thee drink, Gunga?"

"I spoke to her kindly, which is more than thou darest to do," retorted the girl sharply. "What answer did I get? Pure? Why should she be pure? I tell thee there is a spell about her neck—I saw it glittering among the flowers—which put me back: I could not speak. Yes, Moro Trimmul, if it be only to put that spell under my foot, and crush it with her throat, I will do it; yes, I will earn the gold; let her see to herself."

"Good," he replied; "then I can trust thee. Come to me to-morrow, and fail not." And then, naked to the waist, with his soft glossy hair falling over his shoulders, and his fine figure displayed to the best advantage, Moro Trimmul passed out, and took his place among the reciters.

Gunga's eyes followed him. "Drink!" she muttered; "drink! he said that. Well, better drink than this madness, which is worse." And, sitting down, leaning against a pillar, she hid her face in her garment, and sobbed bitterly.

Just then, one of the ordinary processions round the temple formed opposite the shrine. Priests, bearing offerings of flowers and lighted lamps, holy water and incense, preceded by musicians, and chanting a hymn, passed out into the court. Several of the temple girls were dancing before it; and Tara, led on by an excitement she could not control, had seized a pair of cymbals, and began to clash them in the cadence of the hymn as the procession moved.

Three times round and round did the priests pass, and at the second Gunga joined it, dancing wildly and tossing her arms on high as she circled with the rest. Tara, however, remained among the priests, singing with them; yet, in the elastic grace of her step, as well as in the expression of her face, it was evident that she shared the fervour of the scene, and could not control herself, while her clear ringing voice mingled sweetly with the deeper-toned chant of the men.

Maloosray saw Tara, and watched the eyes of Moro Trimmul wandering from one girl to the other with an intense expression of passion. "Ah, my poor friend!" he said to himself, "that is the devil sitting at thy heart, and looking out of thine eyes! Alas! alas! who is she—that girl?" he asked of Jeswunt Rao, who sat by him.

"She is our new Moorlee," replied the man; "is she not beautiful?—But listen to Moro Trimmul."