All night long the young rajah and his people sat up in counsel, and when the morning of the 12th of May dawned, that day which in distant Delhi was to witness such terrible scenes, their measures were taken. The rich men contributed money; the mechanics promised their labour; volunteers offered themselves to reinforce the little army, and a special band of trustworthy soldiers were told off as the bodyguard of the rajah. It was universally determined that, if the mutineers came to Gumilcund, they should have a warm reception. On the following day the rajah drew up an address, which, after being signed by himself and the principal men of the state, was to be forwarded to the Lieutenant Governor of the province. In it the loyalty of the state was set forth, and a refuge within the walls of its chief city was offered to any of the English ladies and children who might be thought to occupy positions of peril. The public address was accompanied by a communication from himself of a much more urgent character. The Lieutenant-Governor, who had lately, he said, done him the honour of congratulating him on his accession, was well aware of the fact that, although an Indian rajah, he was more than half an Englishman. Nevertheless, owing no doubt to his position, he had gained an insight into native character which, he believed, was rare amongst English-speaking people. It was his profound conviction that what he had seen and heard was only the beginning of troubles, and he implored the English authorities to take their precautions. Then he reiterated his offer of refuge, mentioning several stations, amongst which were Jhansi and Nowgong, as to his certain knowledge eminently unsafe. The letter was sent, and duly acknowledged. Whether it was believed or not, he never knew. Possibly, he said to himself, with a bitter smile, it was looked upon as a blind to hide some deep design. As a fact, his offer was made known to those most nearly concerned, the civil and military officers of the suspected districts, and they smiled at it. They did not want a man more than half a native to instruct them as to their duties. Their chief duty was to preserve the allegiance of the troops, and if they sent away the ladies, those susceptible beings would be justly offended--precipitated, in fact, into the very jaws of ruin. The people at Jhansi were specially tickled by the solicitude of a foreign ruler on their behalf. They, with such an ally and friend as the good Ranee, whose affection for the English was well-known, to show themselves afraid! It was ridiculous. Such pusillanimity would meet with its proper desert in the alienation of the faithful and the triumph of the mutineers.