Jaya had stood in the midst of the carnage gazing with an anxious eye upon the scene of death; and although in the leader of her rescuers she traced the well-known features of one who was as dear to her as the first-born to its yearning mother, she uttered not a cry, but calculated the probable issue of the contest with a throbbing heart, whilst her outward demeanour appeared perfectly undisturbed by any inward emotion. Jeipal leaped from his horse, which he left to its own freedom, and sprang towards his beloved. “My sita,” he cried, “you are recovered. What anxious moments have I endured since I heard of your sudden departure! I instantly followed with these soldiers to protect your flight. This morning I heard that a party of the enemy were close upon your track: but you are restored, my sita; and I shall now, with these brave companions, bear you company to Jesselmere.” “Jeipal,” cried the delighted Jaya, “your presence has been my salvation. I may now bless the insolence of yonder chief, who has gone to undergo the everlasting doom of the wicked;--it has saved me from an awful separation. I attempted my own life to save myself from dishonour, but his violence frustrated the one, and your presence has prevented the other.” The Hindoo prisoners being now set at liberty repaired to a grove of trees, under which they squatted themselves, chewed their betel-nut and chunam, smoked, and flung little balls of rice down their throats until filled almost to the uvula; then rising with the greatest apathy, as if nothing had happened to interrupt their composure, snapped their joints, adjusted their turbans, and declared themselves ready to proceed. The bullocks were once more yoked to the hackery, and, being driven by one with whose voice they were familiar and accustomed to obey, they went leisurely forward without the slightest reluctance. Jeipal rode beside the vehicle, the curtains of which, in accordance with Eastern usage, were still kept down; but the lovers found no difficulty in carrying on their conversation through them. The Rajpootni had now less time to think of the sorrows arising from her father’s captivity, her mind being occupied by one to whom she ever lent a willing ear; her countenance therefore recovered its brightness and her voice its vivacity. There were no more interruptions to their journey, and they reached Jesselmere without any further adventures. Jeipal having delivered his affianced bride to the charge of her relations, to her surprise, declared his determination to proceed to Delhi. “To Delhi!” said Jaya, her countenance rather expressing alarm than pleasure: “why should you repair to the enemy’s capital?” “Is not your father a prisoner there, and do you not desire his release?” “Yes, truly; but how can your single arm avail to break through the bars of his prison, surrounded as he is by guards, who are as vigilant as they are cruel?”