She could not give this man her love--she shuddered, indeed, with a feeling of loathing, as she contemplated him. She released her hand from his, and drew herself up proudly, scornfully. And as the first flush of dawn, which was spreading over the heavens, caught her face, she looked inexpressibly beautiful. “What you ask is impossible,” she said. “Love I could never give you, and better to die than sacrifice myself. Your master, Mr. Walter Gordon, is to be my husband. I will either be wedded to him or death. This is my answer. It is unalterable. For the rest, I trust in that God which you yourself have professed to worship.” The man rose to his feet now--proud, defiant. His lips wreathed with scorn--his eyes glistened with a strange light. “I own no master,” he answered, “but the great Nana Sahib. I came here as your friend; I leave as your enemy; you have treated me as you would have done a dog; but let that pass. I offered you life, liberty, security. You have scorned my offer. Let it be so. We shall meet again, and, when next we meet, you will answer me differently. You shall entreat where now you scorn. Farewell.” She would have stopped him, for she regretted that she had spoken as she had, and wounded the man’s feelings. But it was too late; he had leaped over the railings into the compound, and was quickly out of sight. With a sigh, poor Flora turned from the verandah to seek her couch, for she was weary and faint and sick with an instinctive feeling of some coming calamity. CHAPTER III. THE STORM BREAKS. The 10th of May was Sunday. It came in with fiery heat and glare, and arid, dust-charged winds. The bells of the church pealed forth, as they called the Christians to worship. “You do not seem well this morning, Flo,” said Walter Gordon, as he assisted Miss Meredith into his buggy, with the intention of driving her to the station church. “I am not at all well, Walter,” was her answer. “I have been restless all night, and have slept but little.” “That is bad news, Flo. Suppose we have a drive out of Meerut, instead of going to church?” “No, no. I prefer to attend the service this morning. I shall be better by-and-bye.” As they drove along he noticed that she was nervous and agitated, and he questioned her as to the cause; but, though she longed to tell him all, her courage failed her, as she did not wish to give him unnecessary alarm. Besides, after all, what Jewan had said might have been but the boastful threat of a disappointed man--perhaps all would be well. She consoled herself with this thought, and determined to tell her lover at a later period. In the European barracks and in the various bungalows there was on this particular morning a general desertion of native servants; but this circumstance, strange to say, excited no suspicions, and so the day was got through as usual.