There was abundance of light from lanterns swung on poles above the road and flaming torches carried by footmen. Tom looked out and saw a picture which he will never forget. The chief--his lean, soldierly figure wasted with anxiety for the people whom, as he fervently believed, God Himself had committed to his charge; his face, that face which to see was to love, strong, yet curiously tender, deeply seared with lines that told of such spiritual conflicts as shake the soul to its depths; with mobile lips, round which a smile, half humorous and half melancholy, was hovering; and deep-set eyes that looked out steadily from under massive brows--was before him, and instinctively he bowed his head; he knew that he was in the presence of a hero. So far he had seen no one else in the carriage, he had eyes only for the chief; but as it swung round to enter the gates of the courtyard he became suddenly aware of another presence--'Grace Elton!' Wildly his heart throbbed as, in the disguise which it would have been the height of imprudence to throw off, he saw close in front of him the woman he loved. She was sitting back in the carriage, her eyes, pensive as ever, fixed meditatively on Sir Henry. She seemed to have been speaking, for her lips were half parted, and it appeared to him as if a shadow rested on the face which, with its divine expression of seraphic purity, was so infinitely dear to him. A moment, and the vision was gone, and he saw Hoosanee at his elbow, looking grave and disconcerted. He told him that he was being noticed, and implored him by all that was sacred to come on. 'Have I a European dress with me?' said Tom, as they moved away. 'Not one,' answered Hoosanee. 'My lord will remember that the baggage-waggons were left behind us.' 'But you might have kept out one. I would give all I possess to be able to go into that ballroom to-night.' Hoosanee hesitated. 'My master might go in native dress,' he said, 'if he would not betray himself.' 'Would it be possible?' 'It would be easy, my lord. Other Indians of rank have gone in. If my lord gives in his name as the Rajah of Gumilcund, and presents a largesse to the door-keeper, he will certainly be admitted.' The result was as Hoosanee had predicted. When, an hour later, Tom was borne in a palanquin to the gates of the palace, his embroidered robe and gorgeous turban, with the magnificent fee he presented to the door-keeper, gained him immediate respect. No little to his embarrassment, he was taken straight to the daïs on which sat the Commissioner, surrounded by English officers and grandees of Oude. After the first shock, however, he played his part correctly. Sir Henry, supposing him to be an accredited guest, received him graciously, and conversed with him for a few moments. Then, feeling glad the ordeal was over, he stepped down and set himself to watch the dancers.