"Oh, we shall be only too delighted," said Mrs. Flant. "It will be so nice all travelling together. It was quite providential our finding the bungalow." "For me also," he replied. "I was just wondering how Angel really was to travel, and your turning up here is a piece of wonderful good luck." Angel opened her eyes to their widest extent. Was her guardian an accomplished hypocrite? His countenance, when he had descried those two white faces peering in at the window, had expressed amazement, horror, and disgust. CHAPTER XIX THE PARTING GUESTS THE morning succeeding the arrivals, and the storm, was cloudless. There are few things more beautiful, or more treacherous, than a break in the rains in the Himalayas. The sun shone brilliantly, the sky was a dense turquoise blue, against which stood out a far-away range of jagged white peaks. A stillness lay upon the deep, dim valleys beneath the forest bungalow, there was scarcely a sound besides the twitter of birds, and the thunder of a water-course. Miss Ball was standing in the verandah pulling on her gloves, and contemplating the scene. The party were on the eve of departure. "What a delicious spot this is," she exclaimed, rapturously, to Major Gascoigne; "isn't it perfectly lovely, Bella? I should like to come here for my honeymoon." "You must first get hold of the bridegroom," declared her sister in a tart voice. Fanny's disappointments had begun to have a wearing effect upon that lady's patience, and this early start, and the natural apprehension of a detestable, if not dangerous journey, had somewhat darkened her outlook on life. "The bungalow is always at Miss Ball's disposal," replied the host gallantly. "And now we must be getting under weigh, as we have a long march before us." In ten minutes the verandah was empty, the last coolie had disappeared among the trees, Abdul, the Khansamah, free from further anxieties, retired to his charpoy, and his huka. It proved to be a day of thrilling adventures, of almost hair-breadth escapes. Mrs. Flant emphatically declared that she could not face certain obstacles, but she managed to progress, thanks to her escort's cool determination, and ruthlessly deaf ear to her agonised exclamations. Miss Ball, on the back of a stalwart hill-man, cut a sufficiently ridiculous figure; she had not the nerve to skirt a certain frowning precipice on her own feet. The path was narrow, the drop apparently fathomless, her fears and protestations entailed twenty minutes' delay. She angrily refused to follow her sister's example to be led across blindfolded by Gascoigne, she simply sat in her jampan (hill-chair), and there lifted up her voice and wept.