delayed the fulfilment of his commands. To
enhance the confusion, the party of horsemen now returned. They pressed
around, hearing and giving tidings. In the tumult Bertram reached
Atma's side, but before he could speak, Atma whispered in his ear, "Meet
me in the Moslem Burying ground to-morrow night." Then with a sudden and
strong effort, swift as a bird, he freed himself from the excited
uncertain grasp that held him, and springing upon a horse he was off on
the wings of the wind. A score of men scrambled to their saddles, but
they were in confusion, and their horses were tired, whilst Atma had
mounted a fresh horse just brought forward for his own safe escort to
prison. In the disorder, he gained a few priceless moments of time, and
threading well his way between the groves that dotted the plain, he was
soon lost to view.

CHAPTER XVII.

How fair is Night, how hushed the scene,
Earth's teeming hosts are here no longer seen,
Only a chosen few,
A happy few,
The blooming cereus and the blessed dew
Ordained have been
To weave beneath the solemn moon and still,
Some holy rite, some mystic pledge fulfil.

That loveliest star fades from my sight,
Leaves the fond presence of the doting night,
And softly sinks awhile,
A little while,
Its radiance into brief exile
From mourning night.
So shall my blissful flame of life expire,
So fail from light, and love, and life's desire.

So pondered Atma in that strange calm that follows an overwhelming
stroke of calamity. It was midnight, and the moon shone on the old
Moslem Burial Place, where he awaited the coming of Bertram. The trees
cast long black shadows, and here and there the monuments gleamed like
silver. His mind had not yet grasped the full enormity of the conspiracy
of which he was the victim, but he knew that the perfidy of Lal and the
loss of the Sapphire meant death to his hopes of winning victory for the
Khalsa. But his heart was strangely still. He had been waiting since
sundown, but he did not doubt his friend, and interrupted his
meditations every now and then to look expectantly in the direction
whence he knew he must come. At length a figure emerged from the
darkness and silence at the further end of a long avenue leading from
the entrance, and Atma knew the form and step grown