The old woman felt that she was leading him into a pitfall, and she could scarcely restrain the pleasure she experienced. Her love for Flora was unmistakable, and it was a fact strangely at variance with the demoniacal-like hatred exhibited by the majority of the natives, that, during the mutiny, the truest friends to the whites were the ayahs or nurses. It is certain that many of these women--and there was one in every house in India, where there were children or ladies--paid for their fidelity with their lives. “You know the reward and the penalty which attaches to your errand,” Jewan remarked. “Death or riches. I depend upon you, and you shall go. To-morrow we will confer further on the subject. For the present, good-night.” When he had gone, Mehal gave utterance to a sigh of relief. She had made up her mind either to save Flora, or die in the attempt. She had no doubt that if she could but get near Miss Meredith--and this she knew would not be difficult--some plan of escape might be easily arranged, and the young Englishwoman could be restored to the arms of Walter Gordon. As Mehal thought of him, she felt inclined to seek him at once, and make known her plans. But she must wait until somebody had attended to her. She had not to wait long. Jewan’s first act was to have the mangled corpse of Wanna Ranu conveyed away, and it was soon floating towards the sea on the bosom of the Ganges. Then he sought out a native doctor, and despatched him to render aid to the wounded Mehal. Her wound was dressed, and a restorative administered; and in a little while she sank into a deep sleep. In the meantime, Walter Gordon, refreshed and strengthened by his long rest, had awoke, and ventured to look out from his hiding-place. He knew that many hours had passed since he had entered, and he began to grow exceedingly anxious about the success of Mehal’s plans. She had promised, if possible, to bring Flora to him. The reader is already aware how that plan had failed; but little did Walter dream that the woman for whom he would willingly have died to serve had been near him, and fled away in alarm, as she observed his disguise. It will be remembered that on leaving Meerut he had adopted the garb of a religious mendicant, and so complete was this disguise that no wonder Miss Meredith had been deceived. And it had not occurred to Mehal to tell Flora that her lover would be found dressed as a native. Thus by an omission, apparently trifling in itself, the troubles of the lovers had been complicated, and the two were separated probably never to meet again. As morning commenced to break, Zeemit Mehal awoke, considerably strengthened by the medicine she had taken, and the sleep she had secured. Her first thoughts were of Walter. She must endeavour to see him and to arrange some plans for their future guidance.