“Here is an extraordinary adventure!” said Honor to herself. “What would Jessie and Fairy say, if they could see me now, walking along in the dark through a wild desolate country, hand-in-hand with an absolutely strange young man, whose face I have never even seen?” A short distance ahead were groups of chattering natives--women with red dresses and brass lotahs, which caught the light of their hand-lanterns (a lantern is to a native what an umbrella is to a Briton); turbaned, long-legged men, who carried bundles, lamps, and sticks. The line was bordered on either hand by thick hedges of greyish cactus; here and there glimmered a white flower; here and there an ancient bush showed bare distorted roots, like the ribs of some defunct animal. Beyond stretched a dim mysterious landscape, which looked weird and ghostly by the light of a few pale stars. The night was still and oppressively warm. “You will be met at Allahabad, I suppose?” observed Honor’s unknown escort, after a considerable silence. “Yes--by my aunt.” “You must be looking forward to seeing her again?” “_Again!_ I have never seen her as yet.” She paused, and then continued, “We are three girls at home, and my aunt and uncle wished to have one of us on a visit, and _I_ came.” “Not very willingly, it would seem,” with a short laugh. “No; I held out as long as I could. I am--or rather was--the useful one at home.” “And did your aunt and uncle stipulate for the most useful niece?” “By no means--they--they, to tell you the truth, they asked for the _pretty_ one, and I am not the beauty of the family.” “No? Am I to take your word for that, or are you merely fishing?” “I assure you that I am not. I am afraid my aunt will be disappointed; but it was unavoidable. My eldest sister writes, and could not well give up what she calls her literary customers. My next sister is--is--not strong, and so they sent me--a _dernier ressort_.” She was speaking quite frankly to this stranger, and felt rather ashamed of her garrulity; but he had a pleasant voice, he was the first friendly soul she had come across since she had left home, and she was desperately home-sick. A long solitary railway journey had only increased her complaint, and she was ready to talk of home to _any one_--would probably have talked of it to the chuprassi,--if he could have understood her! Her escort had been an unscrupulous, selfish little woman, whose nurse, having proved a bad sailor, literally saddled her good-natured, inexperienced charge with the care of two unruly children, and this in a manner that excited considerable indignation among her fellow passengers. “Why should you call yourself a _dernier ressort_?” inquired her companion, after a pause, during which they continued to stumble along, she holding timidly by the young man’s arm.