“Well, you shall tell us all about it afterwards, Bathurst; let us take the news in to them at once; it is long since they had good tidings of any kind; it would be cruel to keep them in suspense, even for five minutes.” There was no noisy outburst of joy when the news was told. Three weeks before it would have been received with the liveliest satisfaction, but now the bitterness of death was well nigh past; half the children lay in their graves in the garden, scarce one of the ladies but had lost husband or child, and while women murmured “Thank God!” as they clasped their children to them, the tears ran down as they thought how different it would have been had the news come sooner. The men, although equally quiet, yet showed more outward satisfaction than the women. Warm grasps of the hands were exchanged by those who had fought side by side during these terrible days, and a load seemed lifted at once off their shoulders. Bathurst stayed but a moment in the room after this news was told, but went in with Dr. Wade to the Major, and reported to him in full the conversation that had taken place between himself and Por Sing. “I think you are right, Bathurst; if the Oude men hold together, the Sepoys will scarcely risk a breach with them. Whether he will be able to secure our safety afterwards is another thing.” “I quite see that, Major; but it seems to me that we have no option but to accept his offer and hope for the best.” “That is it,” the Doctor agreed. “It is certain death if we don’t surrender; there is a chance that he will be able to protect us if we do. At any rate, we can be no worse off than we are here.” Isobel had been in with Mrs. Doolan nursing the sick children when Bathurst arrived, but they presently came out. Isobel shook hands with him without speaking. “We are all heavily indebted to you, Mr. Bathurst,” Mrs. Doolan said. “If we escape from this, it will be to you that we humanly owe our lives.” She spoke in a voice that all in the room could hear. “Your are right, Mrs. Doolan,” the Doctor said; “and I think that there are some who must regret now the manner in which they have behaved to Bathurst since this siege began.” “I do for one,” Captain Doolan said, coming forward. “I have regretted it for some time, though I have not had the manliness to say so. I am heartily sorry. I have done you a great and cruel injustice. I ought to have known that the Doctor, who knew you vastly better than I did, was not likely to be mistaken. Putting that aside, I ought to have seen, and I did see, though I would not acknowledge it even to myself, that no man has borne himself more calmly and steadfastly through this siege than you have, and that by twice venturing out among the enemy you gave proof that you possessed as much courage as any of us. I do hope that you will give me your hand.” All the others who had held aloof from Bathurst came forward and expressed their deep regret for what had occurred.