Hope did not think of that, as she advanced innocently to the mourner’s side, and looked into her face; the tears were standing upon those colourless cheeks in large drops--the pale lips were quivering. “Hope!” said Helen, in reproof. Lilias put her hand upon Hope’s, gently detaining her. “Hope has been my shield before,” she said in her low, broken voice; and Hope’s heart swelled with graver emotion than was wont to move it, as the drooping Lily leaned for a moment upon her shoulder. She remembered very well the other time--the bow window of Mrs Fendie’s morning-room and the first meeting of Mossgray with his ward; but Lilias was still paler, still more fragile now, and people said she would not dwell long in this life. The young heir of Mount Fendie, lieutenant in his regiment, but captain at home, was the model of his sister Victoria--malicious with a kind of pert cleverness, which passed muster for wit very well among the stupid Fendies; but Captain Hyde, his butt and companion, was much too complacent to be at all conscious of being quizzed. In himself a tall fellow of his hands--in estate a considerable proprietor in one of the rich English counties on the other side of the island--the arrows of ridicule glanced innoxiously from off the glittering armour of good-humoured self-importance which bucklered Captain Arthur Hyde. “Poor Robertson,” said Alick Fendie, in his loud voice, as Hope began to listen. “He was killed in that skirmish at ----; but, by the by, don’t you remember hearing a rumour before we left India, Hyde, that all these poor fellows were not killed after all?” Captain Hyde gaped a “never heard it.” “I am sure you did,” responded his brisk companion. “Why, man, don’t you recollect? Somebody’s servant had turned up, and reported that himself and his master were not dead--very near it--very badly wounded, but not killed outright, and that the Affghan fellows were nursing a lot of them--I think there was a lot; and the fellows who had taken them were just about to turn their coat; they are always doing that, these wretches of natives, and were taking care of them to curry favour with us; yes, to be sure we heard it. It was a mere rumour, you know, but it might be true. Anything may happen in India. Men get killed and then turn up again in the most miraculous way--eh, Hyde?” Lilias had risen and turned round blindly to Helen, as if seeking support. “Save me, Helen,” said the Lily of Mossgray, “save me from this hope.” “And is that all? do you know nothing further about these unfortunate young men?” said the anxious voice of Mossgray. “Nothing at all,” answered Alick Fendie briskly. “It may not be worthy of the least credit what we did hear. I only give it you as a rumour.” “Lilias is ill; we will go in,” said Helen, supporting her friend on the nervous, firm arm, which began to tremble in sympathetic sorrow. “Will you come to us when you can, Mossgray? Lilias is ill.”