he Mohammedans speak of it with pride."

Joyce brushed away the tears and laughed hysterically. "It is a horribly
tragic tale and I wish you had not told me of it, for the memory of it
will haunt me."

"Why do you mind?"

"I can't help feeling for that poor little prisoner who wanted to be
loved and was killed! They had probably married her off as a little
child to the Nawab whom she afterwards learned to hate."

"You wish she had escaped with the Rajput? That would have violated
every law of their religion and tradition." He watched her keenly.

She looked distressed. "Why are laws so hard and fast? These poor women!
Can they never choose for themselves who they will marry?"

"Never. Among Eastern races marriages are always arranged. So you don't
condemn the Rajput for wanting to steal her?"

"Oh, no. How could he help it?"

"Or her for wanting to run away with him?"

"Not for _wanting_ to run away. But laws have to be kept, I suppose, or
no homes would be safe. Individuals have to be sacrificed to
communities," she said thoughtfully. "Show me where it all happened."

He rose, and taking her by the hand, helped her to her feet, after which
they passed together through a gap in the wall which led to a room on
the ground floor from where a winding, brick stairway took them to the
apartments above. Each step had to be carefully negotiated because of
the mortar crumbling under foot, and the loosened bricks that threatened
an accident. Presently, they were in a narrow corridor into which slits
or loop-holes admitted the daylight. An arch at the far end from which
the door had long since vanished, introduced them to a series of
chambers, one leading into another. The walls were black with cobwebs
and the dust of ages, while the concrete flooring was strewn with the
_debris_ of fallen plaster. Heavy cracks in the roof let in shafts of
the fading daylight, and roots of weeds and pipal trees had penetrated
and hung below. On the whole it was anything but a desirable spot in
which to linger, but Joyce's desire to view the interior of the romantic
chamber had to be satisfied.

"This is supposed to be the room, and that the window. You can see the
holes in which the iron bars must at one time have been embedded. The
story goes on to tell of great calamities befalling the fortunes of the
Nawab; of battles fought in the neighbourhood between Hindus and
Mohammedans, and the immediate withdrawal of the Moslems to another p