After the first congratulations, he offered to conduct Sir James and his staff to the commander-in-chief. It was an undertaking of some danger, but the Bayard of India never knew fear. They passed unscathed through a shower of grape and bullets, and Sir James took shelter in the shade of a hut while Kavanagh went to announce his arrival to Sir Colin Campbell. The meeting between these two gallant men was like the meeting between Wellington and Blucher after Waterloo; but there was no time for empty compliments; they had to make good their retreat from Lucknow without a moment’s delay. Havelock, the good Christian, the gallant soldier, tottered forward to welcome his deliverer; seven days later he was carried to his grave, lamented and respected by all who have learned to appreciate his heroic bravery, his humble piety. Three better or braver men than Havelock, Outram, and Campbell have never met; they have all passed away now; but such men can never die; they will live for ever in the memory and affections of their grateful and admiring countrymen. Nor was Kavanagh forgotten at that meeting. Sir Colin spoke of him in such terms of admiration as rarely issued from his stern lips, and expressed his sense of the value of his services in his despatch to the Government of India. “His escape at a time when the intrenchment was closely invested by a large army, and when communication, even through the medium of natives, was almost impossible, is, in Sir Colin Campbell’s opinion, one of the most daring feats ever attempted; and the result was most beneficial; for, in the immediate subsequent advance on Lucknow of the force under the Commander-in-chief’s directions, the thorough acquaintance with the localities possessed by Mr. Kavanagh, and his knowledge of the approaches to the British position were of the greatest use; and his excellency desires to record his obligations to this gentleman, who accompanied him throughout the operations, and was ever present to afford valuable information.” But dearer to Kavanagh than the praises of despatches or the congratulations of comrades were the tender reproaches of his wife, as she clasped him to her breast and wept her joy and admiration in his arms. The poet who sang the parting of Hector and Andromache could alone do justice to such a meeting; it lies not within the province of simple prose. He appeared in the midst of that beleaguered garrison as a bearer of safety—a messenger of mercy; the very soldiers blessed him as he passed, the heart of the widow and the captive sang aloud for joy, and many pressed into his house that they might “only have a look at him.” Few rewards have been more justly earned or more gratefully paid.