But the order came at last. It was issued at night. It was a bright starlight night, but moonless. The firing was kept up incessantly. The roar of the batteries, the clear abrupt reports of the shells, the flashes of the rockets and fireballs, made up a striking and impressive scene. But as ten o’clock was announced, every battery ceased by preconcerted signal, and the order flew through the camp that the assault was to take place at three in the morning. Then a solemn and ominous silence fell upon the camp. Worn and weary men threw themselves down to snatch a brief rest; but many were the anxious eyes that were turned to the doomed city with its white mosques and prominent buildings sharply defined against the purple night-sky. For months it had defied the power of the Great White Hand; but the hour had come, unless the Hand had lost its power and cunning, when the rebellious city was at last to be humbled and crushed into the dust. CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE FALL OF DELHI. As the batteries ceased, the stillness that fell upon the camp was startling by comparison. It made men’s hearts beat faster, for they knew what it presaged; and though many would be cold in death before the sun rose again, everyone was cheerful and eager. The whole force of the camp was divided into four assaulting columns and a reserve. The first was to storm a breach that had been made at the Cashmere bastion; the second, a breach in the water bastion; the third was to blow open the Cashmere Gate; and the fourth was to enter by the Lahore Gate, while the reserve was to follow up in the wake of the first three columns, and throw in supports when necessary. As the hour of three approached, there was great activity in the camp. The men were overjoyed at the long-hoped-for chance of being able to smite the enemy behind his own walls. There was one in the camp, however, whose heart was sad. This was Haidee. Harper had crept over to her tent, to say a few parting words, and the two stood together at the doorway, with the light of a watch-fire gleaming redly upon them. Each felt that the probabilities were they were parting for ever. Harper was bound upon “desperate service,” and the dangers were so many and great that the chances of escape from them were remote. But in spite of this, he tried to be cheerful. Duty called him, and he obeyed the call as a soldier should. His regrets were for this woman, to whom he owed his life, who had “made him her star, which was her only light,” and if the star should be extinguished in the “sea of blood” that was shortly to flow, her lifetime henceforth would be one long night. For she stood alone, as it were, in the world. Friends, kindred, home, all gone; and if he fell, who would protect her? As Harper thought of these things, he could not help a feeling of grief that for a time unmanned him. Haidee noticed this, and said--