"I want to speak to you. Hush! she must not hear. Father, you say she is dying. Well, I claim my right. I am a Catholic--I have sinned--we will say nothing about her--that lies between us. I wish to marry her while I can. I ask it as my right, of you, a priest. Do you understand? I ask you to marry us." Ninian Bruce looked for an instant as if he could have killed the man who stood before him; then he drew himself up, priest utterly. "Have you the right to claim it?" "I claim it as a right," replied Vincent, fiercely. "That is enough, surely." "It is not enough. I will ask her." And Pidar Narâyan knelt down beside the girl. "My daughter," he began, "Captain Dering tells me--" Then he gave way--"_Cara mia_," he whispered, laying his hand on hers, "tell me--I have never been unkind, surely--tell me--your old guardian, who has loved, who loves--must I marry you to--to _him?_" Laila looked into his face with a faintly-wondering reply. "Must!" she echoed dreamily. "It's just as he likes, of course. I don't mind. I only want him--where is he?" "I'm here, sweetheart." Vincent knelt down again and took her in his arms. The faint querulousness left her voice. "That's nice," she murmured. "Tell him to begin quickly, Vincent, for I don't want to waste time. I want you--you, yourself, and me--me, myself--nothing else." Father Ninian gave a sort of cry, and turned blindly to the altar. If this was not Love, what was? Then, monotonously, his voice began the marriage service. "Have you a ring?" he asked, when he came to stand by those two, the girl supported in Vincent's arms. The latter shook his head. "Go on without it," he said sternly; "she is failing fast." But there was one on the old man's finger; one that had never left it since it had been put there by a saint in Paradise. He took it off now, and gave it to the man whom at that moment he hated and despised more than any man on earth. So, swiftly, the prayers went on, and old Akbar paused in his rockings to say "Amen" with the others. He had learnt _thus_ much in these latter days of grace. The last one came as a step resounded down the passage; Lance Carlyon's step as he sought the light he had seen--sought his Captain. He seemed to bring a breath of fresh air into the passion-laden atmosphere, a solid reality into the shadows. "Vincent!" he cried, as he caught sight of the scarlet and gold. "Thank God! you're here. The troopers have seized the Fort--" He paused suddenly, horror-struck at what had caught his eye. "I beg your pardon--I didn't know--is she--is she--hurt?--" Vincent stood up suddenly. "Hush! that has nothing to do with it. Leave that to me. The troopers have risen? When?" Lance, with his eyes still on that pitiful sight, shook his head. "There was a pistol-shot--you must have heard it!" "Heard it!" echoed Vincent, wildly. "Yes! I heard it. Go on! What then?"