“We—Miranda and I—have a nice girls’ school of our own in quite a different part of the fort. It is in that very gallery where I first saw poor Premi pounding away at the rice. I can scarcely recognize that unhappy young Hindu widow in the tall, graceful, beautiful Christian lady who is to me as the sweetest of sisters. You write, ‘I suppose that Miss Macfinnis has quite cast off all her old Hindu ways, and is quite the English demoiselle now?’ No, not exactly. Miranda is not, I think never will be, just like one who has always trodden a drawing-room carpet; she is more like Shakespeare’s Miranda—a beautiful blossom reared under Indian skies, not in a conservatory at home. Miranda always by preference wears the chaddar when she is engaged in the mission work which she loves, but when we are at home her luxuriant hair is braided just like my own. She reads and converses well in English, but with a slight accent which to our ears makes her language more sweet. We all love her dearly, and her native pupils are ready to kiss her feet. Miranda’s influence over them is much greater than mine. “We had an absurd little scene a few days ago; I laugh at the recollection. The bara Sahib, Mr. Thole, paid us a visit. I suspect that his curiosity drew him here, for he had never seen Premi since that strange day when, shrinking and trembling, bruised and bleeding, a poor oppressed Hindu widow was brought before the commissioner, whose verdict would decide her fate. Miranda entered our sitting-room without knowing that a guest was there; her chaddar was off, her hands filled with flowers from the garden which Robin has made. She looked herself like a rose. The commissioner rose, with his stiff, formal politeness, and said, ‘This is, I presume, Miss Miranda Macfinnis.’ Miranda started like a frightened fawn, dropped her flowers, and vanished out of the room. I could scarcely keep my countenance when I apologized for my young cousin’s unintentional rudeness. ‘A little jungly,’ said Mr. Thole, with a condescending smile. ‘You should send her to a school in the hills.’ “I must add that poor Miranda was very penitent for having treated the commissioner thus. ‘I was so startled,’ she said; ‘the unexpected sight of Mr. Thole called back such strange and terrible recollections. But I should have rather thanked him on my knees for what he did; he was one means of delivering me from bondage to freedom, of changing ignorance and misery to this light and love and joy.’