"What about Luchman?"
"I ought to feel sure of him, for we shall be at his mercy. But he was a high caste Brahmin, and he may become the most venomous Hindoo when caught in the swirl. I hope differently, however, but we shall soon know the worst."
When the night had advanced, the little group knelt around the family altar, while the missionary poured out his supplication to the Heavenly Father who had been so merciful to them in the past. He was one of the most devoted laborers that went forth in his master's vineyard, and he was ready at all times to answer the summons: "Come home," but he loved those who were kneeling with him, and he pleaded for their care with an earnestness and faith that it would seem must prevail.
The lovers lingered after the departure of the parents. Many months had passed since they met, and these sweet minutes could not but be happy ones, despite the overpowering gloom outside. Could the moonlight have stolen through the tattie it would have seen them seated side by side on the cane settee, her hand folded in his, while the murmur of their voices was so soft and low that no listener could have caught the syllables that fell from their lips.
This was the hour for which both had sighed during the weeks and months that were past. The belief that such blissful communion awaited him cheered Dr. Avery during that long, dusty, laborious journey up the valley of the Ganges. It was her picture which haunted his dreams, when fitfully slumbering in the palanquin or watching for the treacherous tiger in the fever smitten jungles.
And now after all these perils the dream was realized. He knew the sacred thrill as he pressed the small white hand and touched his lips to the smooth, warm cheek, and drew the willowy form still closer to his own. Ah, if it could but last! But such meetings were too blissful to continue long. Again the sweet vows were repeated, and Avery felt that if he could but hold that dear form by his side forever he would care not for storm or sorrow.
They were still talking in their soft low tones, when Marian raised her head.
"It seems to me that a great many people are going along the roads tonight."
"I have noticed the same thing," replied Avery. "Delhi has no pavements, and few of the people have shoes, so they make mighty little noise on the soft cunka of the road, but when it is so still around us we can hear the sweep of the myriads of feet—Sh!"
While the two were listening to the faint but unmistakable noise made by the multitudinous tramping, some one entered the compound and walked rapidly to the bungalow. Dr. Avery instinctively rose to his feet, grasped his revolver, and drew aside the tattle, just as Luchman stopped in front of it.