“I have had a dreamful sleep,” she made answer, as she sat up, and pushed back her beautiful hair, tarnished somewhat, and tangled with smoke and dust, but beautiful still. Her face, too, was a little worn, and a look of anxious care sat upon it; but the shocks and jars of the last few weeks had affected her much less than it had her companions in sorrow.
“I trust that at least they have been pleasant dreams,” Gordon answered, as he shook Haidee’s hand; for she had risen and moved to where he was sitting.
“Alas, no! I dreamt that your friend Harper was lying cold and dead—that he had died for the want of help and care, and I was not there to administer comfort to him.”
“But you know, Haidee, we say that dreams always go by the contrary,” Gordon answered, trying to force a smile; but it was but a melancholy attempt, for he knew that his words belied the thoughts of his heart.
“Perhaps so,” she said, sighing heavily. “Fortune has favoured him so far that she might still continue to smile upon him. But then he was weak from his illness, and the risks he would have to run before he could get clear of this city were numerous and great.”
“True; but we will not despair. We have all stood in deadly peril, and yet we live; and this dawning day brings us relief from our tribulation.”
“I am not so sure of that,” she answered, hurriedly.
“What do you mean, Haidee? Has not the Nana promised us safe escort to Allahabad?”
“He has promised—yes.”
“Your words have a ring of doubt in them, as though you had no faith in the Nana’s promise.”