In his perplexity, his eyes fell on the two girls. Being ladies from Fyzabad, they might be able to help him with some knowledge of the locality. Summoning Chumru to take the helm he went forward and spoke to them. Now it is an enduring fact that a woman's regard for her personal appearance will engross her mind when graver topics might well be to the fore. No sooner did these sorrow-laden daughters of Eve realize that they were in a position of comparative safety, and in the company of a good-looking young man of their own race, than they attempted to effect some change in their _toilette_. A handkerchief dipped in the river, a few twists and coilings of refractory hair, a slight readjustment of disordered bodices and crumpled skirts--above all, the gleam of the magic lamp of hope that illumined an abyss of despair--and the amazing result was that Malcolm found two pretty, shy, tremulous maidens awaiting him, instead of the disheveled woe-begone women he had seen pushed down the steps of the ghât. He introduced himself with the well-mannered courtesy of the period, and in response the elder of the pair raised her blue eyes to his and told him that since the 16th of June until the previous day they had been hiding in the hut of a native woman, mother of their ayah. "My dear father was killed by Mr. Tucker's side," said she. "He was the deputy commissioner of Fattehpore. Keene is our name--I am Harriet, this is my sister Grace. We only came out from England last cold weather--" A sudden recollection brought a cry of surprise from Frank. "Why," he said, "you were fellow-passengers on the _Assaye_ with Miss Winifred Mayne?" "Yes, do you know her? What has become of her? We were told that everyone at Meerut was killed." "Thank Heaven, she was alive and well when I last saw her three days ago." "And her uncle? Is he living? She was very much attached to him. How did she escape from Meerut?" broke in Grace, eagerly. "I wish they had never left Meerut. The Mutiny at that station collapsed in a couple of hours. Unfortunately they are now both penned up in the Residency at Lucknow, which is surrounded by goodness only knows how many thousands of rebels. But I must give you Winifred's recent history at another time. I want you to tell me something about this neighborhood. What is the nearest town on the river, and which bank is it on?" "Unfortunately, our acquaintance with this part of India is very slight," said Miss Harriet Keene, sadly. "We remained at Calcutta four months with our mother, who died there, without having seen our dear father after a separation of five years. We came up country in March, and were going to Naini Tal[19] when the Mutiny broke out. We only saw the Ganges three or four times before our ayah brought us across on that terrible night when father was murdered." [Footnote 19: A hill station near Lucknow.]