Belle, attired in a fresh and becoming toilette, was seated in the big verandah, surrounded by hopeful hawkers, and the cynosure of many admiring eyes. Some of her fellow-passengers were also sitting, or standing about, and there was a whisper among them, that possibly Miss Redmond’s bridegroom had cried off. They were all rather curious to see what manner of man he was, and his non-appearance occasioned some disappointment, and more excitement, now that an element of uncertainty was imported into the situation. But there was not the shadow of a cloud in Miss Redmond’s face, as she turned over jewellery and silver articles with childish delight, and excitedly bargained for rugs and phool-carries for her future drawing-room. Hearing a sudden exclamation of joy and relief from Mrs. Calvert, she raised her eyes, and saw George ascending the stairs, and with a bound across a case of rings, and three silver sugar-bowls, she fluttered out to meet him. He was greatly altered, he looked worn, thin, and haggard; and he seemed to have aged ten years; his neatly-fitting tight suit hung loosely on him, and his hands were as emaciated as if he had just recovered from a long illness. He explained, when the first greetings were over with Belle and the Calverts, that his train had broken down on the Ghauts, entailing a delay of twelve hours, and after a short parley, Belle, who was not the least bashful, placed her arm frankly within his, and led him away through a staring circle, into the privacy of the ladies’ sitting-room,--which happened to be empty. “Well, George,” she exclaimed, “here I am you see,” and she put her hand on his shoulder, and gazed smilingly into his face. Poor George, he had been nerving himself for this terrible interview for days, and the reality proved more than the anticipation. “Yes, here you are, I see,” and he kissed her. “I hope you have had a good passage?” “Delightful, but what dreadfully short notice you gave me, and”--as if it had only just struck her--“how desperately ill you are looking. Were you afraid that I would not come?” “I have had a very bad go of fever,” he answered evasively. “And nothing knocks one over so quickly. I shall soon be all right.” “And how do you think _I_ am looking?” she enquired coquettishly. “Prettier than ever,” he replied with promptitude, as he gazed dispassionately at his future wife--the wife that fate and Mrs. Redmond had sent him. She was really remarkably handsome, and appeared to be in the highest spirits, and utterly unconscious of her mother’s baseness. “I am charmed with India so far!” she said, “with the funny Parsees with their coal-scuttle hats, and the brown natives, the warm atmosphere, the big buildings, the Portuguese waiters, the hotel and the hawkers, in fact, with everything.”