inct he knew that it was in his hands to save once more,
even as he had done more than once already.

And that his cup of joy might be full, the way in which his charge
accepted the position was perfect. Under the circumstances other women
might well have given way. The very precariousness of their situation,
recollection of the horrors and perils so lately passed through,
apprehensions as to the future, the necessary roughness of their life,
the deprivation of a thousand and one of the many conveniences and
comforts--great and small--of ordinary civilisation, the society of but
one companion day after day--all might have conduced to low spirits and
constraint and irritation, but nothing of the kind was manifest in Nidia
Commerell. A day of complete rest in their snug hiding-place amid the
rocks had completely set her up. The outdoor life and plain rough
living, and sense of temporary security, had brought a healthy glow into
her face, and the excitement and novelty of the position a brightness
and sparkle into her eyes, that rendered her in the sight of her
companion more entrancing to look upon than ever. Nor did she show the
least tendency to become weary of him, any more than in that time, which
now seemed so long back, when they were so much together amid
surroundings of civilisation and peace. Her spirits were unflagging,
her appreciation of his efforts and care for her comfort never wanting.
She, too, seemed to have made up her mind to put the past, with its
grievous and terrible recollections, the future, with its apprehensive
uncertainty, far from her, and to live in the present.

And at night, when the grim mountain solitudes would be awakened by
strange eerie sounds--the weird bay of the jackal, the harsh truculent
bark of the baboon, the howling of tiger wolves, and other mysterious
and uncanny noises, exaggerated by echo, rolling and reverberating among
the grim rocks--she would lie and listen, her eyes upon the patch of
gushing stars framed in the black portal of their rocky retreat, alive
to the ghostly gloom and vastness of the wilderness around; then,
rejoicing in the sense of proximity, even the care, of one whose slumber
was light unto wakefulness in the reliability of his guard over her, she
would fall asleep once more in the restful security afforded by the
contrast.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

A FOOTPRINT IN THE SAND.

Reduced to existence in its most primitive state, it followed that the
m