lf.
'Tis I and my father who are now prisoners, in spite of your pledges
to us. Surely you will not suffer this!"

Thus she spoke to him, but, ah! not in the old self-confident strain,
but with a certain mournful submission which wrung my very
heartstrings.

"What do you say? You amaze me, Marian! This is a gross breach of the
Serdar's own promise to me, but I doubt not that it will at once be
righted. As for your father, I do not say; it may be that the old man
would be better off in captivity. But I take it on myself that you
shall be released without delay. I will go straight and speak about
it."

He said all this so readily that I could not feel sure he was not
sincere. Marian, poor girl, gladly believed him, and gave me a look
which was plainly meant to protest against my entertaining evil
thoughts of Rupert. He hurried away, as he had said, and at the same
time Mr. Holwell was sent for again to the Nabob.

By this time it was getting to be near evening. The sun was dropping
down on the other side of the river, and the long shadows of the palm
trees rocked on the water. From where we stood we could see the
soldiers going to and fro getting ready their evening meal, and hear
an occasional shot in the town, where some Indian was letting off his
musket by way of triumph for the victory. It was still hot, but a
little breeze began to move up the river and flutter some pieces of
linen that hung out drying in the lower courtyard, yesterday having
been washing day in the fort.

Mr. Holwell and Rupert returned together, the former more cheerful,
but Gurney very sulky, and making a show of being much annoyed.

"I have spoken to the Serdar, Marian, and could do nothing for
to-night. He says that you are to remain with the other English till
he can take the Nabob's pleasure, who is now getting drunk, and
difficult to deal with."

Mr. Holwell confirmed the story, adding--

"Surajah Dowlah may scarce be spoken to. His looks are dreadful. Yet
he has sworn to me on the faith of a soldier that no hair of any of
our heads shall be injured."

"That is right," quoth Rupert. "So you see, Marian, it is but staying
here with your other friends"--he gave me a jeering smile as he said
this--"till to-morrow morning, when I will speak to the Nabob myself,
at all hazards, and have you released."

Poor Marian glanced at him in despair.

"Rupert, you won't desert me!" she cried. "You don't mean to leave me
as you did in Gheriah