Waller, who had manifested an air of blunt and soldierly resolution and energy up to this period, now felt his emotions somewhat overpowering, or perhaps he wished to see and hear something of Mabel, before making himself known; so checking his horse, he permitted Sir Richmond Shakespere, as his leader, to ride forward. Lifting his Kuzzilbash cap, his frank English face, though sunburned and lined, beaming with pleasure and joy the while, "Rejoice," he cried, enthusiastically, "rejoice, ladies! Your delivery is accomplished. Dear ladies and comrades, all your fears and your sufferings are at an end!" There was no loud or noisy response; the emotions of all were too deep and heartfelt for such utterances; and, with feelings which no description can convey to the imagination, Waller and Shakespere found themselves surrounded by the captives, male and female, exactly one hundred and six in number, of all ranks--captives whom by their energy, activity, and rapid expedition they had saved from a fate that might never have been known; for the news of their arrival caused Hazarees and Toorkomans alike to disperse, and even Zoolficar Khan abandoned all idea of attempting to carry them off. The happiest moments of existence are perhaps the most difficult to delineate on paper; but Bob Waller, as he folded Mabel Trecarrel sobbing hysterically to his breast, laughing and weeping at the same moment, despite and heedless of all the eyes that looked thereon--he a thorough-bred Englishman, and as such innately abhorrent of "a scene"--forgot the crowd, the Kuzzilbashes, the Dooranees, the grinning grooms and dhooley-wallahs--he forgot all in the joy of the moment, or by a chain of thought remembered only a passage of "Othello," when, in garrison theatricals, he had once figured as the Moor, with Harry Burgoyne for a Desdemona-- "If it were now to die, 'Twere now to be most happy; for I fear My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate." And Sir Richmond Shakespere, as he stood smiling by the centre and blissful-looking group (now beginning clamorously to pour questions upon him), ladies and officers, hollow-eyed, haggard, and pale, began to perceive what had made Captain Robert Waller, of the Cornish Light Infantry, take so deep an interest in the Trecarrels, and why he had been the most active, energetic, and, so far as danger went, the most reckless staff officer during our perilous advance up the Passes and in the subsequent pursuit.