She moved forward quietly towards her terror-stricken countrywomen, and whispered in English that they should get into the cart again. 'Kit is close by,' she said. 'You will find him when these men have gone. I have persuaded him to keep quiet.' Then, in a lower tone, 'I will tell you for your comfort what I was afraid to tell you before. You are going to an Englishman--a dear friend of mine. Give him my love, and tell him that I thank him for what he has done, and that I thought of him even to the last. Get in, dears. Cover yourselves up. Now kiss me, and good-bye.' 'Oh, Grace! Grace! Why did you do it?' sobbed one. 'We can't go on without you, and we could all have died.' 'Yes,' said the girl, with strange solemnity, 'we can all die. Thank God for that! Lucy, you know what I have here--something swift and sudden. Tell them at home and give them my dear love.' 'But we can't leave you so,' sobbed Lucy. 'You must! Get in, Lucy. Yes, if you love me. Would you kill all of them?' In the meantime the unhappy Hoosanee had prostrated himself at the feet of the leader, and was pouring out entreaties and denials. 'She lies, Excellency. Do not listen to her. It is to save the others that she has spoken. She is not the child of the General. She is the sister of my master, the Rajah of Gumilcund, whose servant I am. Let her go on with us, and we will bless you all the days of our life.' So and with many more words he pleaded, but they took no more notice of his entreaties than of the blowing of the wind among the trees. Then Grace, who had bade good-bye to her people, came forward again, and touched him on the arm. 'It is useless, my poor Hoosanee,' she said. 'They are stronger than we are. I must go with them, and you will, for my sake, take my poor friends on. Remember Kit.' At this moment there was a wild shriek, which made Grace wring her hands and weep. 'Oh, God! have pity!' she moaned. 'Is it not enough? That is his voice; I left him insensible.' Maddened with terror at finding himself alone, the poor child had sprung out of the nullah, and made blindly for where the torches were shining. A sepoy seized him. Grace cried out frantically and covered her face with her hands. The poor women in the cart, who thought that it was her death-cry, gave a piteous wail. Hoosanee dashed forward and seized the barbarian's arm. 'Shame! shame!' he cried, 'it is a girl-child; give it to me!' The light of the torches flashed on poor little Kit's long golden curls and delicate face, and there was a murmur of pity. The child was released, and he dashed headlong into Grace's arms. 'Go to Hoosanee, darling!' she whispered. 'He will take you to your mother.' 'No, no, no. I'll go with you. Take me! take me!' sobbed poor little Kit, the strain of his arms tightening. 'No, Kit, no; I can't. Oh God! It will kill me! Hoosanee, take him. Take him by force if you must. There! there!'