oing with you," Barlow declared.

Bootea expostulated with almost fierce eagerness; with a fervour that
increased the uneasiness in Barlow's mind. He had a premonition of
evil; dread hung on his soul--perhaps born of the dream of a tiger
devouring the girl.

"The Sahib still has the Akbar Lamp--the ruby?" the girl queried,
presently.

"I have it safe," he answered, tapping his breast.

"If the Sahib is not going to the shrine Bootea would desire that we
could go out beyond the village to a _mango tope_ where there are none
to observe, for she would like to make the final salaams in his
arms--then nothing would matter."

"Perhaps we had better go anyway," Barlow said eagerly--"though I am
going over to the shrine with you; for now, being a Hindu, I can pass
as your brother--and there there would not be opportunity."

The girl turned this over in her mind, then said: "No, we will not go
to the grove, for Bootea can say farewell to the Sahib in the cloister
where Swami Sarasvati has a cell for vigils."

Then asking Barlow to wait she went into the house and soon returned
clothed in spotless white muslin. He noticed that she had taken off
all her ornaments, her jewellery. The bangle of gold that was a
twisting snake with a ruby head, she pressed upon Barlow, saying: "When
the Sahib is married to the Englay will he give her this from me as a
safeguard against evil; and that it may cause her to worship the Sahib
as a god, even as Bootea does."

The simplicity, the genuine nobleness of this tribute of renunciation,
hazed Barlow's eyes with a mist--almost tears; she was a strange
combine of dramatic power and gentle sweetness.

"Now, come, Sahib," she said, "if you insist. It will not bring misery
to Bootea but to you."

Barlow strode along beside the girl steeped in ominous misgivings.
Perhaps his presence at the temple would avert whatever it was, that,
like evil genii seemed to poison the air.

There was a moving throng of pilgrims that poured along in a joyous
turbulent stream toward the bridge. No shadow of the dread god, Omkar,
gloomed their spirits; they chatted and laughed. Of those who would
make devotions the men were stripped to the waist, their limbs draped
in spotless white. And the women, on their way to have their sins
forgiven, were taking final license--the _purdah_ of the veil was
almost forgotten, for this was permitted in the presence of the god.
Even their beautifully formed bodies and