evil of craving for him. No, this is
the end, and Bootea will make offering of thanks--marigolds and a
cocoanut to Omkar, and sprinkle attar upon his shrine in thankfulness
for the joy of the Sahib's presence. It is said!" and the girl nestled
down against Barlow's breast again as though she had gone to sleep in
content.

But he groaned inwardly: there was something of dread in his heart, her
resignation was so deep--suggesting an utter giving up, a helplessness.
She had named sacrifice; the word rang ominously in his mind, beating
at his fears. And yet, what she had said was philosophy--wise; a
something that had been worded, perhaps differently, for a million
years; the brave acceptance of Fate's decree--something that always
triumphed over the weak longings of humans.

CHAPTER XXIX

Now they could see the wide silver ribbon of Mother Narbudda lying
serene and placid in the moonlight, in the centre of the river's wide
flow the gloomy rock embrasures of Mandhatta Island. Where it towered
upward in cliffs and coned hills the summit showed the flickering
lights of many temples, and like the sing of a storm through giant
trees there floated on the night wind the sound of many voices, and the
beating of drums, and the imperious call of horns and conch-shells.

They came upon the _tonga_ waiting by the roadside, and Barlow,
thrusting back the covering from the girl's face said: "Now, Gulab, I
will lift you down. We must find a place in the village beyond for you
to rest to-night; I, too, will remain there and in the morning we will
make our salaams."

Then he drew her face to his and kissed her.

He slipped from the saddle and lifted the girl down, carrying her in
his arms to the _tonga_.

As they neared the village that was situated on the flat land that
swept back from the Narbudda in a wide plain, and nestled against the
river bank, they were swept into a crowd such as would be encountered
on a trip to the Derby. The road was thronged with people, and the
village itself, from which a bridge reached to the Island of Mandhatta,
was a town in holiday attire, for to the Hindus the _mela_ of Omkar was
a union of festivity and devotion.

Both sides of the main street were lined with booths for the sale of
everything; calicoes from Calicut, where these prints first got their
name; hammered Benares ware; gold-threaded cotton puggris from Mewar;
tulwars and khandas from Bhundi. In some of the little shops,