concluded.

"Let all the officers of the army about to march appear at early durbar to-morrow," said the Queen. "Inshalla! there need be no delay."

"All is ready, may it please you," returned Abbas Khan. "My intention was to make a short march to-morrow afternoon, and afterwards to hurry on as fast as possible to the Royal camp, which lies somewhere between Sholapoor and Puraindah."

"We shall send to thy shrine at early morning, O Peer Sahib, offerings to be distributed to the poor, and ask thy prayers for a victory over the State's enemies. Alas! that they should be our near relatives."

"My prayers and blessing will not avail much, I fear, lady, against what I have witnessed to-night," returned the Peer Sahib, haughtily and ungraciously. "Those that ask for them should obey the commands of Alla and his Prophet; nevertheless, I will submit my poor supplications to the Searcher of hearts."

It was well, perhaps, that the Royal lady affected not to hear what had been said, for she merely made an inclination of acknowledgment; and directing the usual complimentary dismissal gifts to be brought, rose after they had been distributed, and left the throne.

"Have you been mad to-night, Peer Sahib? Was your afternoon dose of opium too strong for thee?" asked Hyat Khan, who feared no priest, and in particular despised the Peer. "It is well she did not order thee to my humble dwelling."

"Silence!" cried the Peer, furiously. "Begone! and let me pass;" and gathering up the skirts of his robe, lest they should be polluted by the touch of anyone, he struggled out of the hall, leaning on his long staff.

"His jealousy has been aroused by you, Padré Sahib, and he is spiteful; take my advice and do not cross him again. I will send a guard of my people to thy lodging, they can both watch and protect."

As d'Almeida made his acknowledgments, Runga Naik, who had been busy writing in a corner, in a large, sprawling hand, approached the new Governor of Juldroog, and gave the letter to him.

"Take my advice," he said, "do not attempt to cross by the western ferry above the fall; turn off the main road at Talikota; make for Korikul, which belongs to me; ask for one Burma Naik, or, if he be away, for Kèsama, my wife; give either of them this letter, and they will give thee men and boats to cross the town ferry to the fort: this will save thee more than a day's march. Thou wilt be landed privately, close to the village; and the rest is in thine own hand, with three hundred of my people to help thee."

"If thou wouldst only go thyself, Runga," said Abbas Khan.

"No, no, Meeah!" was the reply, the tears springing to his eyes; "where thou goest I follow. If the Meer Sahib follows my advice, he will secure Osman Beg ere he rises from his bed the day after to-morrow. The people there will rejoice to be delivered from his insolence and tyranny. By Krishna! do not send me, I should slay him; and his life—well, it is in the Lord's hands, worthless as it is. No, not with thee, Meeah; I must go to my people; I shall meet thee at the early durbar."

CHAPTER IX.
A DAY IN THE PALACE.

It was late in the night before Francis d'Almeida reached his abode, but he found his sister awaiting his arrival; and his account of the events of the evening, after he had made up and despatched by the Queen's messenger a sealed bottle of medicine for the young Queen, was in the highest degree interesting to her. Francis had not intended to tell her of the rudeness of the Mussulman priest, but she told him that a guard of twelve men had arrived some time before, which had alarmed the whole household as well as herself. Nor when she had ascertained that they had been sent for their protection, could she imagine what danger threatened them; or if there were no danger, were they to be prisoners in spite of Abbas Khan's assurances? A few words from her brother soon, however, explained all; and he made light of the Peer Sahib's rudeness, which he told his sister was only what they must expect to endure as Christian missionaries.

"We have been spoilt too much," he continued, "by the good old Nawab of Moodgul and by our friend Abbas Khan; and in a city like this, full of fanatics and different religious bodies of Mussulmans, we may hardly expect to escape notice. But we have a good friend in the great Kotwal, and under the Queen Regent's protection we should have no fear. You will see her and her daughter-in-law to-morrow, at their special request, and we shall accompany Abbas Khan to the Palace at an early hour. I think you may be of use to that poor sufferer, the young Queen, whom they believe to be under a malignant evil spell; but who is either weakened by fever, or by some insidious complaint, which I humbly trust may not be decline, and yet I fear it. I want you to watch, since I may not see her face; and the eagerness with which she bade me assure her that you would come proves to me you will be heartily welcomed. Rise early, therefore, as I shall, and prepare yourself. Take some drawings and work with you, and I can promise you a happy and interesting day. You will not see much of the great Queen Regent, perhaps; but after she has given audience to the officers about to march to-day, she may have leisure."

Maria had no apprehension. Accustomed as she was to visit the harem of the Nawab of Moodgul, and to friendly and intimate association with his wife and children, she felt no embarrassment in visiting another Indian lady, even though she might be a Queen. Accordingly rising at daylight, she set aside what she needed to take with her; and her brother having prepared the medicines he purposed to administer, they partook of an early breakfast, and were ready when the palanquins sent from the Palace arrived for them.

More than ordinarily lovely did his sister appear to Francis d'Almeida that morning. She had selected the finest of her lawn coifs and kerchiefs to wear, and their exquisite whiteness enhanced the rosy colour of her complexion, and harmonised with the purity of her fair neck and arms; while her soft brown hair, in natural ringlets, escaped from the coif and hung about her shoulders. To anyone who had never seen a pure European lady, she must, in spite of the sombre robe which concealed her graceful figure, have appeared a vision of beauty.

Old Donna Silvia, the wife of the painter, took her in her arms as she prepared to enter the palanquin, and kissed her affectionately and warmly, and bade her fear naught; and throwing the Queen Regent's beautiful Cashmere shawl around her head and shoulders, she entered the palanquin, closed the doors, and proceeded onwards with her old servant shuffling by her side.

At the gate of Abbas Khan's mansion they joined in his cavalcade, which, as well from his own retinue as the number of officers by whom he was accompanied, was of an imposing character. Maria would have liked to open the doors of her palanquin and look out at the richly dressed crowd of officers, many of them in glittering mail—at the magnificent caparisons of their horses, bounding and prancing as they went, and of the huge elephants which accompanied them, the incessant clash of whose bells was almost deafening; but modesty forbade it, and she contented herself with such glimpses as she could obtain through the small jalousies of the doors which let in light and air. She could catch passing glances of Abbas Khan, whose noble figure and spirited charger were remarkable over all by whom he was surrounded, and inwardly prayed for a blessing on him, and protection in the new scenes of war into which he was about to plunge. She had not forgotten poor Zóra,