a fresh proof of the friendly
disposition which the Prince had already so often shown towards him, and
he was not slow to thank him most heartily.

The idea of being obliged to travel under the enemy's protection was, of
course, not a very pleasant one to Mr. Kennedy; but in the interests
of the females who accompanied him he was bound to acquiesce in the
arrangement, since there was really no better chance of reaching Karachi
quickly and safely.

"You cannot imagine," he said to Heideck, "how hard it is for me to
leave India, so dearly purchased. I have devoted twenty years of my life
to it, years of hard, unremitting toil. And now my work, like that of so
many better men, is rendered useless at a single stroke."

"You have spent two whole decades in India without a break?"

"Yes; I could not make up my mind to accompany my wife and daughter on
their occasional visits to Europe for a few months' relaxation. I was
passionately fond of my work, and I can hardly get over the idea that
all is lost. And it IS lost; I am under no illusion as to that. After
the Russians have once set foot here, they will never give up the
country again. Their rule will be more firmly established than ours,
since they are at heart much closer to the Indians than we are."

. . . . . . .

On the following day they set out.

Mr. Kennedy and the ladies rode in a mail-coach drawn by four Australian
horses, which had been originally intended for driving to the Anandale
races. He had brought with him his own English coachman, an English
servant, and an English maid; he had paid off and discharged his
numerous Indian servants before starting.

The march proceeded by way of Kalka, the last station on the railway to
Simla, without any incidents, as far as Lahore. Here Prince Tchajawadse
was informed that the Russian army had started on the previous day
for Delhi, and that he was to follow as rapidly as possible with his
detachment.

During the entry into the streets of Lahore, the sight of which awoke in
him so many painful recollections, Heideck was suddenly roused from his
reverie. Behind the pillars supporting the balcony of a house he thought
he caught sight of the form of a woman, who followed with staring eyes
the march of the glittering, rattling troop of horsemen with their
clattering swords. Although her face was almost entirely hidden by
a veil, he felt instinctively that she was no other than his own and
Edith's preserver--the page