m went
on to speak. He talked of tiger hunts; of long journeys through the
hot plain or over the lofty mountain; of desperate fights with savage
tribes. At length he spoke of the Indian mutiny. He had been at
Delhi, and had taken part in the conflict and in the triumph. What
particular part he had taken he did not say, but he seemed to have
been in the thick of the fight wherever it raged. Carried away by the
glorious recollections that crowded upon his memory, he rose to a
higher eloquence than any which he had before attempted. The passion
of the fight came back. He mentioned by name glorious companions in
arms. He told of heroic exploits--dashing acts of almost superhuman
valor, where human nature became ennobled and man learned the
possibilities of man. The fervid excitement that burned in his soul
was communicated to the fiery nature of Zillah, who was always so
quick to catch the contagion of any noble emotion; his admiration for
all that was elevated, and true and pure found an echo in the heart
of her who was the daughter of General Pomeroy and the pupil of Lord
Chetwynde. Having herself breathed all her life an atmosphere of
noble sentiments, her nature exulted in the words of this
high-souled, this chivalric man, who himself, fresh from a scene
which had tried men's souls as they had not been tried for many an
age, had shared the dangers and the triumphs of those who had fought
and conquered there. No, never before had Zillah known such hours as
these, where she was brought face to face with a hero whose eye,
whose voice, whose manner, made her whole being thrill, and whose
sentiments found an echo in her inmost soul.

And did Windham perceive this? Could he help it? Could he avoid
seeing the dark olive face which flushed deep at his words--the
large, liquid, luminous eyes which, beneath those deep-fringed lids,
lighted up with the glorious fires of that fervid soul--the delicate
frame that quivered in the strong excitement of impassioned feelings?
Could he avoid seeing that this creature of feeling and of passion
thrilled or calmed, grew indignant or pitiful, became stern or
tearful, just as he gave the word? Could he help seeing that it was
in his power to strike the keynote to which all her sensitive nature
would respond?

Yet in all Zillah's excitement of feeling she never asked any
questions. No matter what might be the intensity of desire that
filled her, she never forgot to restrain her curiosity. Ha