" she moaned, and threw herself face
downward on the _diwan,_ sobbing wildly.

So she lay, her whole body quivering with the frenzy of her emotions,
and as she lay there, inch by inch, cautiously, the nearer door began
to open. Chunda Lal looked in.

Finding the room to be occupied only by Miska, he crossed rapidly to
the _diwan,_ bending over her with infinite pity and tenderness.

"Miska!" he whispered softly.

As though an adder had touched her, Miska sprang to her feet--and
back from the Hindu. Her eyes flashed fiercely.

"Ah! _you! you!"_ she cried at him, with a repressed savagery that
spoke of the Oriental blood in her veins. "Do not speak to me--look
at me! Do not come near me! I hate you! God! how I hate you!"

"Miska! Miska!" he said beseechingly--"you pierce my heart! you kill
me! Can you not understand----"

"Go! go!"

She drew back from him, clenching and unclenching her jewelled fingers
and glaring madly into his eyes.

"Look, Miska!" He took the gold chain and amulet from his bosom. "Your
token! Can you not understand! _Yah Allah!_ how little you trust me--
and I would die for one glance of your eyes!

"_He_--Stuart Sahib--has gone, gone long since!"

"Ah! Chunda Lal!"

Miska swayed dizzily and extended her hands towards him. Chunda Lal
glanced fearfully about him.

"Did I not," he whispered, with an intense ardour in his soft voice,--
"did I not lay my life, my service, all I have, at your feet? Did I not
vow to serve you in the name of _Bhowani!_ He is long since gone to
bring his friends--who are searching from house to house along the
river. At any moment they may be here!"

Miska dropped weakly upon her knees before him and clasped his hand.

"Chunda Lal, my friend! Oh, forgive me!" Her voice broke. "Forgive ..."

Chunda Lal raised her gently.

"Not upon your knees to _me,_ Miska. It was a little thing to do--for
you. Did I not tell you that _he_ had cast his eyes upon you? Mine was
the voice you heard to cry out. Ah! you do not know; it is to gain
_time_ that I seem to serve _him!_ Only this, Miska"--he revealed the
blade of a concealed knife--"stand between Fo-Hi and--you! Had I not
read it in his eyes!"

He raised his glance upward frantically.

_"Jey Bhowani!_ give me strength, give me courage! For if I fail ..."

He glared at her passionately, clutching his bosom; then, pressing the
necklet to his lips, he concealed it again, and bent, whispering
urgently:

"Listen ag