The young Rajpoot lived apart from the bustle of the town, looking silently but vigilantly at passing events, and watching any opportunity that seemed to promise success to the purpose which now engrossed his thoughts. The loss of Jaya would be worse than death; and he resolved, at all hazards, to make an effort to prevent the accruing of so melancholy an event. He had left her with the relatives of her father at Jesselmere, and promised, when he quitted her, that he would shortly return and make her the beloved partner of his future life. The idea that the fulfilment of his promise might be frustrated by the pusillanimous impatience of her father under the privations of captivity, was wormwood to the young Rajpoot’s haughty spirit; and the thought of securing the lovely girl from the passions of Alla-ood-Deen, was never a moment from his mind. Even in his slumber, images to which this painful thought gave an impalpable but veritable form crowded upon his excited brain, and he had not a moment’s repose. The opportunity which he had been so long seeking, at length came. It was announced that the King, accompanied by all the nobles of his court, would on the following week, proceed on a hunting excursion to a forest within about eleven coss, or twenty-two English miles, of the capital. This was an announcement which made Jeipal’s heart leap within him. His plan was instantly formed. Hope danced before him like a young fair cherub from the skies, and he hailed the phantom as the harbinger of his future bliss. Upon the day mentioned in the royal proclamation, Delhi poured forth her multitudes to join their sovereign in the chase. A long line of elephants followed the King, and thousands of horsemen brought up the rear. The sight was one to excite enthusiasm in the breast of the most indifferent. The living sea flowed forward, undulating like the ocean when the breeze slumbers upon its bosom and it only gently swells with its own buoyancy, as if proud of its burden, rising to meet it with a gush of quiet transport. However joyous the scene, there was one sad heart at least among the delighted concourse; but he mingled with the merry throng, and the plant of bitterness which grew at that moment within his bosom was imperceptible beyond the secret sanctuary in which it was enshrined.