ality stabbed Stella. She felt as one coming out of
an all-absorbing dream. Obeying an instinctive impulse, she rose up
quickly to follow. But even as she did so, two things happened.

Hanani passed like a shadow from her sight, and a voice she
knew--Tommy's voice, somewhat high-pitched and anxious--called her
name.

Swiftly she moved to meet him. "I am here, Tommy! I am here!"

And then she tottered, feeling her strength begin to fail.

"Oh, Tommy!" she gasped. "Help me!"

He sprang up the steps and caught her in his arms. "You hang on to me!"
he said. "I've got you."

She leaned upon him quivering, with closed eyes. "I am afraid I must,"
she said weakly. "Forgive me for being so stupid!"

"All right, darling. All right," he said. "You're not hurt?"

"No, oh no! Only giddy--stupid!" She fought desperately for
self-command. "I shall be all right in a minute."

She heard the voices of men below her, but she could not open her eyes
to look. Tommy supported her strongly, and in a few seconds she was
aware of someone on her other side, of a steady capable hand grasping
her wrist.

"Drink this!" said Ralston's voice. "It'll help you."

He was holding something to her lips, and she drank mechanically.

"That's better," he said. "You've had a rough time, I'm afraid, but it's
over now. Think you can walk, or shall we carry you?"

The matter-of-fact tones seemed to calm the chaos of her brain. She
looked up at him with a faint, brave smile.

"I will walk,--of course. There is nothing the matter with me. What has
happened at Kurrumpore? Is all well?"

He met her eyes. "Yes," he said quietly.

Her look flinched momentarily from his, but the next instant she met it
squarely. "I know about--my baby," she said.

He bent his head. "You could not wish it otherwise," he said, gently.

She answered him with firmness, "No."

The few words helped to restore her self-possession. With her hand upon
Tommy's arm she descended the steps into the green gloom of the jungle.
The morning sun was smiting through the leaves. It gleamed in her eyes
like the flashing of a sword. But--though the simile held her mind for a
space--she felt no shrinking. She had a curious conviction that the path
lay open before her at last. The Angel with the Flaming Sword no longer
barred the way.

A party of Indian soldiers awaited her. She did not see how many.
Perhaps she was too tired to take any very vivid interest in her
surroundings. A nat