The sound of angry dispute brought her back to realities. They were passing out of the camp under the triumphal arch, and one of its sentries was barring the entrance of an ash-smeared figure which was brandishing a stamped petition paper, as if it had been a card of admission, and yelling excitedly for "Justice! justice!" "It is that pernicious fellow, Gorakh-nâth," remarked Dr. Campbell, sententiously. "He wishes, no doubt, to appeal against Captain Dering's order, of which I, for one, am heartily glad. A Christian government is bound to refuse sanction to the practice of a faith which, it is impossible not to see, is degrading in the extreme to those who hold it." Erda's eyes were still clear; clear with what those who do not see, call dreams. "Yet it seeks what we do--peace--forgiveness--the cradle of the goodness, the innocence it left behind--somehow." Dr. James Campbell turned to her in dignified, amazed displeasure. "May I ask what has caused--" "That's easy tellin'," interrupted Mrs. Campbell, comfortably. "It's yon hat with feathers, when she is accustomed to a pith one. An' she standin' in the sun talkin' to Mr. Carlyon! It's just got to the lassie's head. I was the same myself when I was young, Erda; but Dr. James thought it a duty-- "And so I do now, my dear," put in her husband. "It is a distinct duty on the part of mission workers to take every precaution, and if her head is Erda's weak point, I shall warn David--" Mrs. Campbell nodded hers and smiled, and almost winked. "Oh! Davie will take care of her, never fear; he is not a ninny!" Erda flushed scarlet all over her face and neck. It seemed to her as if she had forgotten her cousin, the Reverend David Campbell, altogether. And yet she was engaged to be married to him as soon as he returned from a well-earned holiday in England. A swift remorse left her pale again. Davie, who was so much in earnest, who looked to her as--as-- That vision of a woman with a red-gold edging to her white robe and a red-gold apple in her hand came to send the blood to her face once more. CHAPTER VIII FALLING STARS The long _durbar_ tent was packed from end to end with the cane-bottomed seats of the mighty; and in each sat its appointed occupant,--patient, grave, silent.