The sound of her own words seemed to reproach her for want of faith. Alicia felt that she was only craving the support of an earthly arm, and was forgetting in her terror that arm which is ever stretched out to help the servants of God. “O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?” flashed on the memory of Alicia. Her exclamations of distress now took the form of prayer. “Lord, save me, help me, guide me!” she repeated again and again as she sped on her way, the rough road marring her slippers, hurting and almost burning her feet. There was comfort in uttering that incoherent prayer, solace in realizing that wherever she might go there was a protecting wing above her. Alicia did not look much around her; she dreaded meeting the wondering stare of natives whom she might pass on the road. But very few people were abroad—here a wandering fakir, there two or three peasants weeding the fields on which the crops were almost ripe for the harvest, which is usually gathered in April. No one molested the poor young wanderer. At length Alicia reached a place where the road divided. There were two paths before her, both equally dusty and glaring, and she knew not which to take. Alicia stood still, utterly perplexed. Again the prayer for guidance burst from her lips, and then she turned to the right. Before her stretched a long straight road, white with dust and glare, and bordered with cactus. On that road, to Alicia’s inexpressible joy and relief, she saw forms which she instantly recognized. Their backs were turned towards her, and they were at a considerable distance; but well did Alicia know the brown tattu on which her father-in-law was mounted; familiar and dear to her eyes was the tall form in a sun-helmet which walked at his side.