t as Mihr-u-nissa--Sun of Women, and later, Nour-Mahal,
Light of the Palace, and latest, Nour-Jahan-Begam, Queen, Light of the
World?

Here in these gardens she had lived--had seen the snow mountains change
from the silver of dawn to the illimitable rose of sunset. The life, the
colour beat insistently upon my brain. They built a world of magic where
every moment was pure gold. Surely--surely to Vanna it must be the same.
I believed in my very soul that she who gave and shared such joy could
not be utterly apart from me? Could I then feel certain that I had
gained any ground in these days we had been together? Could she still
define the cruel limits she had laid down, or were her eyes kinder, her
tones a more broken music? I did not know. Whenever I could hazard a
guess the next minute baffled me.

Just then, in the sunset, she was sitting on deck, singing under her
breath and looking absently away to the Gardens across the Lake. I could
catch the words here and there, and knew them.

"Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar,
Where are you now--who lies beneath your spell?
Whom do you lead on Rapture's roadway far,
Before you agonize them in farewell?"

"Don't!" I said abruptly. It stung me.

"What?" she asked in surprise. "That is the song every one remembers
here. Poor Laurence Hope! How she knew and loved this India! What are
you grumbling at?"

Her smile stung me.

"Never mind," I said morosely. "You don't understand. You never will."

And yet I believed sometimes that she would--that time was on my side.

When Kahdra and I pulled her across to Nour-Mahal's garden next day, how
could I not believe it--her face was so full of joy as she looked at me
for sympathy?

"I don't think so much beauty is crowded into any other few miles in
the world--beauty of association, history, nature, everything!" she said
with shining eyes. "The lotus flowers are not out yet but when they come
that is the last touch of perfection. Do you remember Homer--'But whoso
ate of the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus, was neither willing to bring
me word again, nor to depart. Nay, their desire was to remain there
for ever, feeding on the lotus with the Lotus Eaters, forgetful of all
return.' You know the people here eat the roots and seeds? I ate them
last year and perhaps that is why I cannot stay away. But look at
Nour-Mahal's garden!"

We were pulling in among the reeds and the huge carven leaves of the
water plants, an