THE arrival of the European mail is always a welcome event at an East India station. Officers and soldiers look out as eagerly for letters from home as their wives do, and are as bitterly disappointed if they are overlooked in the general distribution, although they may not care to show it as much. It was now just expected at Delhi, and Major Ferrers, with his wife, was eagerly looking through the half-closed lattices of the bungalow to watch for the well-known signal of its arrival. "There, it's no use looking any longer," said the lady at length, in a fretful, petulant tone, throwing herself on a lounge. "It won't come any the sooner for our looking, and I dare say when it does come, there will be nothing for us." "I hope there will. I am expecting a letter from the agent I have set to work in London." "O don't, Frederick," interrupted the lady, "don't raise anticipations which are sure to be disappointed. I have given up all hope of any news about that." The gentleman seated himself by his wife, and took her hand. "My dear Maria, I would not have told you this, but that I have a strong impression we shall soon hear some tidings of our lost darling," he said tenderly. The lady looked up quickly. "You have hopes of hearing of her at last?" she said. "O my darling child, my darling little Milly, shall I ever see you again!" And as she spoke, she burst into a flood of tears. Her husband did what he could to pacify her, but it was some time before she grew calm. "I must leave you now, dear," he said at length, pulling out his watch, "but I shall not be gone long." His wife knew he was going to inquire about the mail, and she lay back upon the cushions to await, with what patience she could muster, his return with the letters. Mrs. Ferrers was not very amiable at any time, and the climate of India is not calculated to improve an irritable temper, so that the woman-servant in immediate attendance upon the lady had her patience sorely tried that afternoon in her endeavors to satisfy all her whims. But the simmering heat continued, in spite of all the lady's fretfulness concerning it, a fretfulness that was increased just now by the thought that but for this unhealthy climate, she would not have been called upon to part with her only child, but she might now have had her with her, to pet and to spoil. Mrs. Ferrers did not say "spoil," but that is what it would have been had the child been left to her care. Major Ferrers was gone some time, and when he came back, disappointment was plainly written on his face. "Hasn't the mail come in?" asked the lady, rising from her recumbent posture. "Yes, it has come in," answered her husband. "And are there no letters for us?" said the lady, in a shrinking whisper. "Yes, there is one, but not the one I expected." And as he spoke, he took the letter from his pocket, and threw himself into a chair. "Who is this from?" asked the lady, taking up the letter, and looking at the address on the outside.