uick, Hilda!" she gasped. "Papa is dying! Oh, be quick--be
quick! Let me save him!"

She literally tore off the dress that she had on, and in less than
five minutes she was dressed. She would not stop for Hilda to arrange
her wreath, and was rushing down stairs without her veil, when the
ayah ran after her with it.

"You are leaving your luck, Missy darling," said she.

"Ay--that I am," said Zillah, bitterly.

"But you will put it on, Missy," pleaded the ayah. "Sahib has talked
so much about it."

Zillah stopped. The ayah threw it over her, and enveloped her in its
soft folds.

"It was your mother's veil, Missy," she added. "Give me a kiss for
her sake before you go."

Zillah flung her arms around the old woman's neck.

"Hush, hush!" she said. "Do not make me give way again, or I can
never do it."

At the foot of the stairs Guy was waiting, and they entered the room
solemnly together--these two victims--each summoning up all that
Honor and Duty might supply to assist in what each felt to be a
sacrifice of all life and happiness. But to Zillah the sacrifice was
worse, the task was harder, and the ordeal more dreadful. For it was
her father, not Guy's, who lay there, with a face that already seemed
to have the touch of death; it was she who felt to its fullest extent
the ghastliness of this hideous mockery.

But the General, whose eyes were turned eagerly toward the door,
found in this scene nothing but joy. In his frenzy he regarded them
as blessed and happy, and felt this to be the full realization of his
highest hopes.

"Ah!" he said, with a long gasp; "here she is at last. Let us begin
at once."

So the little group formed itself around the bed, the ayah and Hilda
being present in the back-ground.

In a low voice the clergyman began the marriage service. Far more
solemn and impressive did it sound now than when heard under
circumstances of gayety and splendor; and as the words sank into
Guy's soul, he reproached himself more than ever for never having
considered the meaning of the act to which he had so thoughtlessly
pledged himself.

The General had now grown calm. He lay perfectly motionless, gazing
wistfully at his daughter's face. So quiet was he, and so fixed was
his gaze, that they thought he had sunk into some abstracted fit; but
when the clergyman, with some hesitation, asked the question,

"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?" the General
instantly responded, in a firm voice