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"Gossamjen will surely think me ungrateful," he said. “No.” his companion replied; "he will think that we found a favorable opportunity for flight and will be glad that we did it before getting him into trouble. It was agreed between us that I was to seize any chance Lbné oflered without telling The moon set and clouds arose, gradually blotting out the stars. They travelled along in the darkness, listening to the cries of wild beasts from the jungle they were approach- ing. and talking but little; Philip uh lwetting that he had left Gossamjee's hospital roof without a word of thanks or farewell, and speculating on the trouble that might befall the honest merchant on their account, It was well that 'Ada had explained nothing beforehand, as in that case he Would have felt himself bound to loll his good host of his intended flitting. “At, all events," she returned, “I must look as much like a boy as I can till this little excursion is at an end. My name is Carendra Lal, you are Bassenjeo La], my brother, and we are returning from some pil- grimage to Lucknow, where our par- ents live. An impediment in your speech obliges me to be spokesman on all occasions.” an," she returned, with a scorm‘ul smile, "but I~find the more I am used to it the less I like it." “You surely would not wish to be a man?" Philip remonstmted. Perhaps salmon, mackerel, and such lucky fish as are not skinned alive, consider that. discipline excellent for eels, who, like Mohammedan women, are used to it. “They are used to it," he repliedfi his mind busy with more personal matters. . “And I am used to being a wom-’ an,” she returned, with a scorm‘ul smile, "but I~find the more I am used to it the less I like it." “You surely would not wish to bci a man?" Philip 1~emonstmted.. “Good reason indeed," she said. “You have heard Gossamjee Bhose speak of the tyrannical moulvie who mused the llindoo temple to be dch filed. This man has sworn that there shall be no more English, and for that reason Gossamjee was so anxious to pass us both ofl as Hinâ€" doos. With me he succeeded fairly well. I was in India until eleven years old. Hindostanee is my secâ€" and language. 1 know much of na- tive ways, besides, women do not attract much attention, their lives are passed in such seclusion. But you arrived in English uniform, and wounded, and this somehow got wind. Gossamjee suspects that one of the servants turned traitor. These people are always intriguing, and some friendly traitor warned Gossaâ€" mjee of the moulvie’s plan. which Was to search his houseâ€"probably this Very night. He told Ruksbhai also that he would defend us to the death. I’oor Ruksbhai herself prom posed our flight; she had the locks: oiled, and gave me a master key and ‘ a suit of Chunia’s clothes, and fur- nished me with food and a little money. Dear Ruksbhai, she is a good actor, and I hope that she will be able to persuade Gossamjee that, she knows nothing of our disappear. ancc. She had to take old ToruE Into her confidence. Toru dare not; betray her mistress. Gossamjee Would certainly beat her for her part in it. And for such a breach of hospitality he would beat Rukshhai severely. Dear Gossamjee, I wish I might have bid him goodâ€"by and: thanked him. He is such a noble-1‘ minded man. Even Ruksbhai lovesl him, though he is her husband. How I shall miss them all. You did. not see Rajmahli, of course? But! you may have heard a girl’s voice singing hymns. It was Rajmahli. She is sixteen. and a. widow. I taught her many things, and we studied Sanscrit together. And little Sate, a child of six. Poor baby! It , is bad enough to be a Woman in any ; case, but to be a Hindoo woman; there is nothing more terrible, ex- cept to be a Mohammedan woman.” 1 "I am at your service,” he replied, simply; "I know that you would not have left your refuge but for good reason." "We must make the best. of the darkness," Ada said, trunquilly at this juncture. "It will be well to lie quiet during the day. You have been very good and given me no trouble with questions and hesita- tions." "We are going to Randal." Ada said; “0 7” not His was WC GWGW 6MW$0$3QMMEQ~M 3‘33â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"-â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"°e°8 He did not know; WWW} HEW" ' om V'Ve~m_WW 90933999093 CHAPTER XV. Ihim. so that hp miyrht ho unable A NEW PMWSE 'Jucknow, where does OR, THE MISSING WILL Mr. a. green Dough. He sat thus for many hours, battling with the drowâ€" siness that threatened to overcome him. and wondering their situmion They had now reached a ravine formed by a cascade dashing from a. height; the steep sides were partly clothed with wood, and as it was evident that both were tired out, Hhey rested in this cool and pleasant :retreat till the sun’s worst force 'should be expended. Here Philip :pl'epared a couch with leaves and unâ€" Idergrowth, but before he had made jniuch way with it Ada, who had éthro‘rn he! self at. the foor of a. tree and began to discuss their plans, lsuddenly became silent, her head drooping on her breast. She had ‘falleu asleep, dead heat. She scarâ€" 'cely stirred when he lifted her gently lfrom the earth and placed her on lune greenwood couch, himself sitting Inear and fanning the insects ofi with The sun waxed warmer as they walked, and both began to flag, Philip even limping, as the elIort told upon his wounded log. "It would have been nothing with- out an adventure," Ada. commented joyously; “you didn’t suppose we were going to walk across to Luckâ€" now as one walks across tlie'flelcls to church at home, Mr. Randal '2" And he certainly did not. 5 They went into a grove of mangoes Ifor concealment rather than shade, {to rest awhile, and eat some of the ,‘food Ada had brought With her; Hind a. more pnradisaic breakfast perâ€" haps had never been taken. The world lying before them in the beau- Ity of the morning was so fresh, so '3'oung, and so bright; the experience [was so new and so romantic. Then it struck Philip that, having walked for so many hours, they ought by this time to be within hearing of the siege guns. He looked over the prospect before him, a. rich plain dotted with villages among cornâ€"fields, groves, and paddy fields, with the eternal palm springing here and there; he could see no sign of a large city, or large river. Reclamâ€" pore was left far behind out of sight. He had no idea where he was. “Brother Bassamjee,” “Ada said hurriedly, after a time, “I Wonder in which direction Lucknow lies." Philip scarcely knew Ada in her fresh disguise; the merry Hindoo lad with the sparkling eyes difl’ered as much from the dignified, deepâ€"voiced Indian lady telling him her sad story, as the latter contrasted with the light-hearted girl in the ball- room. His spirits rose with the glory of the fresh morning, and the infection of Adu's, but he could not forget the extreme peril of their posâ€" ition and his own heavy responsibil- ity, and ate the chupatties and fruit he found in his bundle with an unâ€" dercurrent of serious thought. the sudden splendor of the tropics, but a much less gradual dawn than we know in these latitudes. The air grew sharp, the darkness seemed ldeeper, and then the clouds cleared [7 The dawn was breaking now, not off, the cast glimmeer grayly and iturned to white and gold, the great sun lenpt up from the horizon into a. sky of deep glowing orange; the Iwnrm autumn day was near. "How beautiful the world is !” she exclaimed, as she watched the glory of the. sunrise with tears in her eyes, “and how beautiful it is only just to be alive. I am sure that we shall get through the lines, Mr. Randal. I think that God means to deal more gently nowâ€"I have sulleer so much, and you have suffered. too. And how shall I ever be able to thank you ?" "If I can help you I shall need no other thanks," he replied; "but it strikes me that if I get into Luck- now alive I shall owe it to you.” him. so that he might be unable to furnish any clue in case of pursuit. There are some very fierce fanatics at Beelamporc who think English blood the most dainty oll‘cring for their gods. 011, Mr. Randal. how beautiful it is to be free. Yours is the first English voice I have heard sinceâ€"for three months," she said, ‘her breath catching at the memory lot the last English voice she had heard: "and I have not had so much [as an English Bible to read, and ihave only spoken English when 'teaching Rajmahli, and sometimes ‘her father and her brother.” “Poor child!” Philip replied, touched at the thought of her desoâ€" lation, “I wish I were ten men for ,your sake." Ada’s spirits had been rising with the sense of freedom, and the stimu- lus of action, the terrible sorrow and suspense of the last few months was succeeded by a natural reaction She could have sung in the lightness of her heart. able to pursuit. fanatics English Philip, stunned by the noise. and blinded by the thick dust-cloud, Won- dered that he was still alive, and supposed himself the only survivor of the explosion; when the cloud began to dissipate itself, a. light was struck and a. voice quietly remarked : "Their practice is improving. The last only ploughed the compound a. "Whnt I hate is their confounded stink-pots," said another voice, and the whole assembly, the officers be ing then at dinner, was soon on its feet, and making use of such furni- ture. as was not smashed, adapting broken things and continuing the reâ€" past, as far as circumstances per- The fugitives separated without farewell; Ada was taken to her broâ€" ther’s wife, and Philip, with a keen pang at a parting he felt, to be final, at. least as far as the close and pleasant companionship in the last days of sufiering and danger was concerned, went to the quarters as- signed to his regiment, where anâ€" other equally ghastly but less emo- tional scene of recognition, inquiry, sad response, and half sorrowful welâ€" come occurred, in the midst of which the diabolical war music rose in a deafening fortissimo; the wall of the temporary mess room crashed in, adâ€" mitting a heavy exploding body, men fell in various directions like so many ninepins, the sound of smashâ€" ing crockery and shattering furniâ€" ture was mingled with groans, and followed by silence and darkness. "Their praciice is last only ploughed bit.” "Is father alive ? And mother ?â€" \l'hbre is your wife? Algernon was killed and Ethel and all the children â€"â€"None were saved, civilians or sold- iersâ€"My children are. goneâ€"My wife still olivesâ€"Her baby is a month oldâ€"There is still food in the garriâ€" sonâ€",We have lost all we possessedâ€" We left canmnments in the clothes we stood inâ€"You are illâ€"I am starvâ€" ndâ€"Ah, poor child, and worn out/â€" And Hm‘elock is illâ€"Sir Colin is coming-A little patienceâ€"Thank God how sadâ€"How sweetâ€"” and such like mingled questions and an- swers amid tears and smiles, and ejaculations of sorrow and wonder, to the crashing of the grim siege- symphony overhead. Then ensued a scene in which re- cognition, doubt, fear and hope, sorâ€" row and joy, were tumultuously minâ€" gled, one of many similar scenes enâ€" acted in Lucknow that year, when the supposed dead suddenly reap- peared after long wanderings, and those reputed living were as suddenâ€" ]y discovered to have been long dead; when reunited friends met with ter- ror, framing questions their lips ale most refused to utter, and their ears dreaded to hear answered. “She escaped from Jellypol‘e in disguise,” the other fugitive exâ€" plained. “You may be sure of your sister by this token, Captain May hard,” he added, producing a large ruby from his clothing. “Miss May- nard dropped this While dancing with me, Philip Randal, of the 100th, last winter, and I took it in charge for her until now.” "Arthur, don’t you know me '2" sobbed the boy, throwing himself upâ€" on the astonished officer. Footâ€"sore and weary, thin and hagâ€" gard, their white clothing stained and torn, they were led before Euroâ€" peans almost as tattered, soiled and wasted as themselves; when the younger lad, who was half supported by the elder, suddenly uttered a cry and ran toward a tall man clad in a ragged, dirty flannel shirt, shabby trousers and slippers, but accoutred us a private soldier, and wearing an ofllcer’s sword. Another night's walking, they hop- ed, would bring them to Ihe mLel lines; but it was not so. What with sickness and other mischances, it was days later wnen two young; Eng- lish-speaking Hindoos were suffered to pass the English outposts in the evening, and brought guarded into the entrenchmcnts. shared by human beings? And these had for each other the subtle charms of yonth and sex, together with diversity of character and beauty; they were alone together in the wirle world, surrounded by cruel and treacherous enemies, at 1he mercy of elemental forces, hot noons, chill nights, beasts of prey andlxenâ€" omous reptiles, malaria, hunger, and the pestilence that slays and wastes at that season in those climates. Each felt something of the tremen- dous forces drawing them t‘ gather. but their youth and the exigencies of the moment hindered them from see- ing how deep and subtle those times were. and plans, a perfect passion of pity and tenderness sweeping over- him whenever his eyes rested upon the sleeping girl, and he thought of her courage and patience, her utter deso- lation and dependence upon him. harm each a common binding is peril when Philip, Whose low seat was one of those wooden blocks fired from mor- tars at a. high elevation into the garrison, keenly realized the brief and precarious tenure on which they all held their lives; was it. worth while to think of the future in the near face of death ‘? Why not snatch a little joy from these fleeting mom- ents of peril? Therefore he looked into Adu's deep eyes, and listened to the music of her voice. while the "The chair is none the worse,” Captain Maynard said, tranquilly examining it; "it. was evidently a chance shot.” Just then a slight sibilant n‘oise. followed by a crack, was heard, and a small object bounded from the chair on which Miss Maynard was sitting and stmck her on the side. "Spent, fortunately," she said, with a slight start. while a small leadcn baJl rolled harmlessly to the ground, whence Philip took it as a. souvenir. Just then a slight followed by a crack, a small object bot “Ada,” her sisterâ€"inâ€"law said, "can’t. you put Willie to bed now ’2 He has been in your arms the whole long day. He will wear you out." “The moment I lay him down he cries," she replied, gathering him closer in her arms; “he is so good, he lets me work and wash the china. and do all sorts of things !" Philip wondered what “all sorts of things” might mean; without asking he took the child from her, and quickly hushed the feeble moan it made on being moved; then he learnt, that its mother was too weak to tend it, and trusted it entirely to Ada. Ada had now recovered her natural hue, and though unsuitany clad in a rich colored silk gown given her by a. lady who lived in the Resiâ€" dency. and therefore had all her wardrobe with her when the flight thither took place, she made a grace- ful and feminine figure in the dim light. Her dark hair was coiled about her head like that of a Greek statue, her eyes were bright with pleasant welcome; she carried a. sleeping child in her arms, a wasted, ailing creature, yet no light burden, being at least three years old. The young widow's eyes clouded when she saw Philip ri e from the block of wood he was si ting on to shake his former comrade’s hand; she had heard the story of their wandering with a sort of tender envy and the expression Ada's appearance brought, to Philip’s face gave him a momentary resemblance to her own soldier slain during the siege. It happened that Philip was clad in a. shabby, stained uniform that she recognized too well; she had refused to sell it, but placed it at the disâ€" posal of any officer who might need it. "He ought to grow into a distinâ€" guished soldier,” Philip replied glanc- ing with a sort of awed pity at the frail creature, who had chosen such a. perilous time for his first entrance upon the world’s stage, and doubting if he would grow into anything. Then he heard the low clear voice which had of late become so fami- liar, hough not less thrilling to him, and almost feared to look up to the face he had seen in such varâ€" ied aspects when Ada came on to the Veranda. “I am so glad to see you,” she said. “I was afraid you would not have time to come. You were in hospital; I was so sorry. I hear you have been on duty, 1 hope not too soon." He found a quiet circle of ladies in shabby clothes. sitting in a. veranda to breathe a little air in the comâ€" parative lull of the iron tempest, which usually occurred after sunset. Faded, lifiggard, and languid these ladies were; one wore a bit of erape at her neck, the nearest approach to widow’s weeds that she could pro- cure; one was hushing a young fretâ€" ful baby. This lady received him very cordially, and thanked him for his care of her sisterâ€"inâ€"law, While Captain Maynard took the young child and looked at it With a wistâ€" ful tenderness. "This little chap hegan life bold- ly,” he observed, petting the tiniest of arms. Two or three days in hospital, where a round shot, killed a man sitting on his bed. and several of duty of most active description, folâ€" lowed, and Philip saw and heard nothing of the comrade of his late adventures. He contrived to send out a. note for Jessie, concealed in a quill, saying that he was alive and well, and then one evening when he had an hour to spare, he made his way to the Maynards’ quarters, tell- ing himself that, little as conven- tionalities could be observed by peoâ€" ple whose scanty leisure was spent in dodging round shots and musket balls, it was absolutely incumbent on him to ask how Miss Maynard fared after her adventurous journey. a short distance round the original entrenched position as the sen would roll back from clifis rising out, of the water, but who invested the rein- forced garrison as closely as ever. Outram had not yet heard of Sir Colin Campbell's approach, and thanks to Lawrence’s providence there were still provisions for a. month. An English paper. smuggled in by a servant, proclaimed the inâ€" terest and sympathy of England. and the starting of large bodies of troops overland. body of a poor native servant, the only victim of the exploding shell, was quietly removed without com- ment a few minutes later. Then Philip heard of the terrific loss on September 25th. and dating the following week, when amputated limbs lay in heaps in the hospital, of the continued fury of the siege apparently undimim’shed numbers of the eifcmy, who had rolled back for mitted, which was not very body of a poor native. son only victim of the cxnlodi; far. The Scolding Female (to Husband 2) :â€"“Oh, if you only knew the ference between you. wretch. and first; husband !” Husband :-â€""] know the difference. He is h: A certain fellow who answered ad- vertisements in papers has had some interesting experience. He learned that by sending a dollar to :1 Yanâ€" kee he could get a cure for drunken- ness, and he did. It was to “Take the pledge and keep it." Then he sent fifty stamps to find out how to raise turnips successfully. He found out: "Take hold of the top and pull.” Being young he Wished to marry, and sent thirty stamps to a firm for information as to how to make an impression. When the anâ€" swer came it read, “Sit down in a pan of dough.” ‘ was a. little Ila rough, but he was a patient man, and thought he Would yet succeed. Next, advertisement he answered read: “How to double your money in six months." He was told to convert his money into notes, fold them, and he would see his money doubled. Next he sent for twelve articles. and he got a packet of need- les. He was slow to learn. so he sent a dollar to find out "How to get rich." The next post carried. “Work like the deuce and never‘ spend a cent,” and that stopped‘ him. But his brother wrote to find: out “How to write without pen or! ink." He was told to use a. leadâ€"‘ pencil. He paid a. dollar to learnf "How to live Without work," and was told on a. posrvcard, “Fish for fools as we do." ; now that he has left happy before I got ; “Dear littlo Jessie ! I will do all I can to make her happy when the campaign is over," he used to say on reading her letters. The time moved hmvily on that winter in spite of the constant peril and excitement culminating in the final capture of Lucknow in March; Jessie‘s strange discontent, and con- stant desire to leave the neighbor- hood of Clecx‘e and obtain some emâ€" ployment, expressmi in the letters which reached him fltfully, seemed to him, in face of the grim reaiities of his own life, but as the murmurs of a spoilt child, wanting something and knowing not what. And when he reached the camp found several home letters, he most trembled at the prospect opening: them. “What can it matter himself in the march b umbagh. "I shall nevex whether I go through or not.” Philip was more than sorry when this novel picnic came to an end. and the Lucknow people were safely packed in trains to Allahabad. Both Ada and Mrs. Maynard said a. tearâ€" ful farewell, but Ada smiled through her tears. "It would be more amusing,” Mrs. Maynard observed, “if we be quite sure the enemy would attack A few days later, when the sick and wounded and women and Child- ren were conveyed to Allahabad, he was one of their escort, and thus saw her frequently during the tortâ€" night’s slow and difficult march, which was necessarily one. of great hardship. A great crowd of sick and feeble people and their necessary baggage in bullock wagons and pal- anquins, with camels, elephants, pe- destrians, and vehicles all mixed up together in the hot sun and stifling dust, involved much suffering and unspeakable confusion. With scanty and hastily organized cunnnissariut, lthe Maynards were frequently with- ‘out food or tents for the night; and,;‘ like others, were dependent upon the ‘sometimos lawless proceedings of male friends. "Brother Bassamjeo,” 'Ada said one night, when after long and weary waiting at their encampment he brought them some loaves filched from a. cornmissariat wagon, "if you were in merry England I strongly suspect you would see more of the inside of a prison than you liked." “Well, I begged this milk for Wilâ€" lie,” he replied, producing some. "After all," Ada said, when she had thanked him, “it, is only a long picnic, but Mrs. Maynard won’t see it in that light.” His visit was repeated once 01‘ twice before the. position was evacu‘ Med a few weeks later, in November, when Ada was one of the crowd of ladies who took shelter in his regi- ment's quarters, while a. passage was being cleared for their carriages on their way to the Dilkooshn Palace. The child was still in her arms; She begged a little milk for it. and Philip was happy and proud to be able to furnish some. When he returned to his post hel felt Very low, and fell to regretting that he had no tidings of Jessie; he Would give the world for a. home ht- iter. And tired as he was by the: *iony day’s duty. and weakened by poor food and hardships, he did not. sleep that night, but lay lukng thump}! the darkness at a. face which seemed to reproach him, the face[ that of all fuces had looked most kindly upon him all his life. the lin- ed, worn face of Matthew Hende,‘ and remembered that good man's mnstant and surprising love and kindness, nnd the perfect trust he' had seen in his dying; eyes. i In the meantime the guns boomed! on; a, ball might at any moment] crash into his room, ending 8&1 reâ€"g sponsibility. - young widow watched them with a. sorrowful sympathy, and enjoyed a brief hour of Paradise. SECRETS OF SUCCESS (To be Continued.) the march back to the A1- ‘I shall never see her again go through the campaign He is ham); you, and I vu he said to if we could would not dif~ my poor and a]- of