It was an unselfish suggestion. She knew that it was a forlorn hope; but it held out a faint hope for the little garrison. Harper jumped at it. It was desperate service indeed. To safely get beyond the lines of the investing army seemed almost out of the region of possibility; but there was yet a chance, however small, and if he could but reach Meerut, help might be procured, and the little remnant of the brave defenders saved. It was agreed unanimously that he should go, and a dark night favoured his departure. Walter Gordon would readily have gone, but he felt that his strength could be utilised to better advantage in helping the besieged. He had suffered agonies of mind as he thought of what the fate of Flora Meredith might be. He hoped and prayed in his own mind that a merciful death had long since ended her sufferings. The hour came for Harper to depart; it was a solemn moment. Each felt that as they grasped hands. “Walter,” said Harper, “the last time we parted was at the very commencement of this horrible mutiny. I little thought then that we should meet again; but we part now, and the chances of our seeing each other any more on this earth are remote indeed. Though, if I should survive, and can render aid to Flora Meredith, if she lives, it shall be done. But before I go, I exact a solemn promise from you, that while life is in your body you will protect Haidee, and if you should both manage to escape, you will never lose sight of her.” “I give the promise, old fellow. God bless you,” was Walter’s answer, in a voice that was choked with emotion. Harper turned from his friend to bid farewell to Haidee. How can that parting be described? There was no passionate wailing--no useless tears. She was a true woman, and however powerful her love might be, she knew that it was a duty to sacrifice all personal feelings where so many lives were at stake. She hung around his neck for a few brief moments; she pressed a kiss of pure love upon his lips, and then released him. In both their hearts there was that nameless feeling of ineffable sorrow that has no interpretation. “Light of my eyes, joy of my soul, go,” she said. “Into the dust Haidee will bow her head, for happiness can never more be hers.” One more pressure of the hand, one more meeting of the lips, and Harper crouched down, and was making his way across the compound. It was midnight, and the night was dark. The enemy’s fire had almost ceased; and as the crouching form disappeared, many were the fervent prayers uttered on Harper’s behalf, that he would succeed in his mission.