The death of poor Goutama, whom he respected for his worth, had cast a cloud over his peace. But for his noble sacrifice, the father would have been doomed to mourn the loss of a daughter, of whose virtues he was proud, and of her beauty vain. He presented the family of Goutama with a compensation sufficient to secure them from want for many a year, but this did not restore the son to the bosom of an anxious parent. One night as Yhahil flung herself upon her couch, she laid her head upon a large snake which was curled upon her pillow. Feeling the cold lubricous surface she suddenly raised herself, when the reptile rose, and, extending its hideous crest, wound itself gently round her neck. She was riveted to the spot; every muscle in her body became rigid, all vital action appeared suspended as she felt the venomous reptile spanning her neck within its horrible coil. She did not move; her breath was arrested, and her eyes fixed in mute horror, when the snake, gliding down her shoulder, passed round her arm, slid upon the palampore, and made its escape. She was uninjured. It was some time before she recovered her self-possession. Her women were summoned, and the apartment examined, but there was no snake seen. She lay and mused upon the circumstance. Not being free from the superstition prevalent among her race, the circumstance affected her deeply. Her escape was one of those incidental chances of good fortune which occur once in an age. She had lately twice escaped death in its most terrible form. The gods of her country had surely heard her and her fathers prayers, and reserved the degraded Pariah for some future destiny. Her pulse rose with the excitement of her feelings. She could not sleep, but visions, almost palpable to the senses, passed before her. Although awake, she seemed to behold objects with all the accuracy and definite precision of sensible perception. Towards morning she slept. Her dreams embodied the objects of her waking thoughts. She fancied herself surrounded by the pageantries of a court, and that thousands of her fellow-creatures bowed the knee before her. She was no longer an outcast--no longer a disgraced mortal, but a distinguished and adored woman. She awoke from the excitement caused by her dream, rose from her unquiet couch, and went forth to hail the rising sun, which marched up to heaven in its splendour as if in mockery of human woe. She looked upon the glorious orb, her heart dilated, and she became a silent worshipper of its glory. CHAPTER III. About a coss from the Pariah’s dwelling lived a jiggerkhar or liver-eater, who was looked upon as a pythoness throughout the neighbourhood, having the power of foretelling future events.