There were three figures in the small enclosure. On one side, rigid in death, lay the fearfully emaciated body of an old man. A couch of dried grass was his bier, and his limbs were covered with the long robe that he had worn in his lifetime. On the other side, the little heap of grass on which he lay pressed close against the opposite side of the hut, and as far as possible from that sight of fear, was a child with golden hair, whose tiny face, thin and pinched with suffering, bore upon its lips the tranquil smile of sleep, or her twin-sister death. This in the flashing of an instant Tom saw. But it was not this, for all its pitifulness, that brought the sick chill to his heart, and that wrung from his lips that tortured cry. For he saw something else. _She_ was lying there--his love--his darling! On the damp floor, but close beside the couch, and with arms outspread, as if her last conscious effort had been spent in defending the child, she lay before him motionless. She did not stir when Bâl Narîn's light fell upon her. The cry of irrepressible anguish that had broken from Tom brought from her pale lips no answering note of recognition. It was as he had so often dreamed it would be. He had found her, indeed; but she was dead--dead--dead! For the space of an instant he paused. Love and a reverence that almost slew him were waging war in his heart. He was sick with the longing to raise her in his arms, and press her against his breast, and breathe into her lips of his own life and energy, and he dared not. In that instant Bâl Narîn looked over his shoulder. 'Quick, master, quick!' he cried. 'They are not dead. This is the shock of a great joy. A few moments ago the gracious lady was speaking to me. Bring her out under the moonlight. And here are my chuddah and girdle to make her a bed. You have the cordial?' 'Yes, Billy; I have the cordial. Thank God that I remembered it. So!' as he lifted up the light form in his arms; 'gently! gently! Take away the torch, Billy. Let there be nothing to frighten her when she awakes! And the child, poor little Kit! bring him out--let him be near her! God! how light she is! My sweet one! my love! how you must have suffered! But it is all over now!' He laid her down reverently on the couch that Bâl Narîn had prepared, and wet her lips with the cordial. Then her eyelids fluttered, and a tremor ran through her limbs, and her lips parted in a long, shuddering sigh that went straight to Tom's heart. He was chafing one of her hands softly. 'My poor love!' he whispered. 'Is it cruel to bring you back? Have you suffered enough? But you shall never suffer again--never, so long as I have life and strength to protect you. Will you not open your eyes and look at me?' Her lips parted, though her eyes were still sealed. He stooped over her and caught one word--'Kit.' 'Kit is safe, darling. My good friend Billy is with him. Ah! I hear his voice.'