Georgia’s own eyes were dim with tears as she turned away to put together the things she had brought with her, and the slaves crowded round her in grateful reverence, kissing the hem of her dress and laying her hand on their heads, while Nur Jahan despatched a messenger to inform the King that the operation had been successful. The slave returned in a short time, accompanied by the chamberlain who presided over the treasury, bearing a mass of jewellery tied up in a thick silk handkerchief as a gift to the doctor lady, together with the King’s grateful thanks. Georgia knew her duty with respect to presents of this kind, and having raised the handkerchief to her forehead, she placed it again on the tray on which it had arrived, and choosing out of the heap a necklace of curious workmanship, but of comparatively small intrinsic value, she returned the remainder to the bearer, desiring him to convey her thanks to the King. Rahah was made happy by the gift of a massive pair of anklets, in which she clanked about as though in fetters; and the negro, as he withdrew, intimated that the King intended to mark the occasion by gifts of jewellery to his wife and daughter-in-law and their respective attendants. Hence it was a very merry party which partook presently of coffee and sweetmeats in the Queen’s room, and Georgia observed with some amusement that now it was the Queen’s servants who shrieked shrill defiances across the courtyard at the attendants of Antar Khan’s mother, and that they were powerless to retaliate. They sat in a scowling and disconsolate row on the verandah, and, as Mr Hicks would have put it, “squirmed” under the infliction. “Must thou leave us when thy friends depart, O doctor lady?” asked the Queen. “There are many women blind and sick and lame in Kubbet-ul-Haj, much more in all Ethiopia. Wilt thou not stay and cure them?” “I am afraid I must go back when the Mission does,” said Georgia, “though I shall be very sorry to have to leave you all, and I wish I might hope to come back. But I shall not be my own mistress for very long now.” “Has the wife of the Queen of England’s Envoy found a husband for thee, then, O doctor lady?” asked Nur Jahan with deep commiseration, forgetting the unfavourable impression of her own married life which the words would convey; “I thought thou wert free and happy.” “Peace, Nur Jahan!” said the Queen, quickly. “Knowest thou not that the caged birds should entice the wild ones into the trap, and not warn them away? Hath the lot of all women overtaken thee at last, O doctor lady? I would have thee give God thanks that it comes so late.”