“The only thing repulsive about it is that you will have to practise a little deception. That cannot be avoided if you wish to save your life. But it is time that you went away now, for it is growing dark. Farewell, missy baba. If our plans do not miscarry, we shall meet again soon.” Flora pressed the hand of the faithful old ayah, and with hope once more strong in her breast, she hurried to the Palace, while Zeemit crept under the couch again to wait until darkness would enable her to retrace her steps. The following day dawned; but Moghul Singh did not appear. Another day and another night passed, and yet Moghul did not come. Flora began to despair again. He had never kept away before. She had fears now that the man, dreading that she would carry out her threat of informing the King, had fled from the Palace. And if so, her very last hope would be gone. The suspense was awful. The only attendant she had had since she had been confined in the Palace was an old woman who was dumb, or professed to be. At any rate, no word ever escaped her lips in Flora’s presence. She performed her duty sullenly, and with manifest disdain for the Feringhee woman, so that no information could be expected from her. Thus a week passed--a week of most awful, agonising suspense. The guns roared with increased vigour. In fact, they were scarcely ever silent now, for desultory firing was kept up during the night. The siege was being prosecuted with energy, as the English siege-train had arrived. Flora was enabled to see from her promenade on the terrace that the defenders were concentrating their guns at those points which commanded the English positions. She saw also that great damage had been done to various parts of the building, and one of the gates, of which she had a full view, was very much battered, and was being barricaded with massive beams of wood and heaps of gravel. She feared from these signs that Zeemit’s fears might be realised with reference to the King, and she was in momentary dread of seeing him or some of his myrmidons enter her rooms to drag her out to the slaughter. However, for several days she enjoyed a total immunity from any intrusion, with the exception of her sullen attendant, from whom she could derive no spark of information. At length one morning her suspense was ended, for Moghul Singh himself reappeared. She almost welcomed him with a cry of joy, for in him her hopes of ultimate escape now centred. “You have been long absent,” she said, in a tone that surprised him. “Yes, I have been upon a journey. But if that absence had been prolonged, it would have pleased you better, no doubt.” “No, it would not,” she answered truthfully. “Ah! What mean you?” “I mean that I have missed you,” she replied, with equal truth. “Missed me! Why so?” he cried, unable to conceal his astonishment. “Because I have been very lonely without you. You were kind and thoughtful.” “And yet the last time I was here you repulsed me.” “I did.”