It had been so five minutes before. It was not now; for that canopy of smoke, those licking tongues of flame, had given the last touch to Tara's unstable mind. She had crept up and up, blindly, and was now on her knees in that bare room set round with her one scrap of culture, ransacking an old basket for something which had not seen the light for years, her scarlet tinsel-set wedding dress. Her hands were trembling, her wild eyes blazed like fires themselves.
And below, men waited calmly for the flames to claim this, their last prize; for the turret stood separated from the next house.
"My God!" came an English voice, as something showed suddenly upon the roof. "I thought you said it was empty--and that's a woman!"
It was. A woman in a scarlet, tinsel-set dress, and all the poor ornaments she possessed upon her widespread arms. So, outlined against the first sun-ray she stood, her shrill chanting voice rising above the roar and rush of the flames.
"Oh! Guardians eight, of this world and the next. Sun, Moon, and Air, Earth, Ether, Water, and my own poor soul bear witness! Oh! Lord of death, bear witness that I come. Day, Night, and Twilight say I am suttee."
There was a louder roar, a sudden leaping of the flames, and the turret sank inwardly. But the chanting voice could be heard for a second in the increasing silence which followed.
"Shive-jee hath saved His own," said the crowd, looking toward the unharmed shrine.
And over on the other side of the city, Kate Erlton, roused by that same first ray of sunlight, was looking down with a smile upon Jim Douglas before waking him. The sky was clear as a topaz, the purple pigeons were cooing and sidling on the copings. And in the bright, fresh light she saw the gold locket lying open on the sleeper's breast. She had often wondered what it held, and now--thinking he might not care to find it at her mercy--stooped to close it.
But it was empty.
The snap, slight as it was, roused him. Not, however, to a knowledge of the cause, for he lay looking up at her in his turn.