he called me to him, and said, with a horrid smile on his face, ’M’Pherson, you are a Highlander, and staunch to your master.  I am true to my word.  Yes, I signed a bond, when I married Kalee, that I would treat her as a father would a child whom he rocked in a cradle.  I have obeyed.  Kalee goes into the Cradle to-night.  You are to give her child’s food; but you cannot rock the Cradle.  Let the winds which drive in past Balgay woods do that if they can.  My honour is pure.  Swear to obey me.’

“I could not say no, and look on that face.  Kalee has been in that dungeon, fed by me, and has never seen her children for a whole year.”

“The vengeance of the Lord hangeth over the wicked by a burnt thread,” said Aminadab.

“Yes, who was to know that her own protector, even the great spirit of her land, was to come here to help her?  He was seen last night again!  He wanders about and about—­flits hither and thither.  He needs no rest—­no food.  He is independent of rain, and wind, and thunder, and storms.”

“But he does not help her,” said Aminadab.

“His time is coming.  Kalee is dying.”

“Dying!”

“Ay, dying.  Then Brahma will claim that which is a part of himself, and then will be the time of his return to his chosen people.”

“Horrible!” ejaculated Aminadab.  The chicken stood untasted.  “Does Mr. Fletcher know this?”

“Why, to be sure, haven’t I told him?  But may not a child die in its own cradle, and the father continue feasting with the lords and the lairds, drinking and swearing, and debauching, when he knows that his honour is discharged,—­ay, and the blood-bond paid?”

“And the body, when she dies—­”

“Will be in Logie burying-ground; ay, and strange people from the East, a long way beyond where our sun rises, with black faces and bleeding hearts, will come and bend over the little grave, and weep for the daughter of their prince.  Ah!  Aminadab, grief makes a learned woman of me, a poor servant; but I cannot save Kalee, none can save her now.  Consumption has set in; and bad air, and a rejected love, and a mother’s yearning will do the work.  I was with her now with my cruse—­all alone with her; for no one dare approach.  She knows she’s dying.  She asked for the children—­

“‘Will you not let me see my boys?’

“I shook my head.

“‘And will Fletcher not see me before I die, to receive my last kiss?’

“I shook my head.

“’And Aditi, who will return to my father’s palace, is she to be kept from me to the end?’

“I shook my head.”

“And will no one watch?” said Aminadab.

“Yes, I will watch all night; but it will be unknown to Fletcher.  No one can speak to him now.  He goes hither and thither.  He has no rest yet; the gloom is deeper than ever.”

“Horrible mystery!” again ejaculated Aminadab.  “But ’the wicked shall perish; they shall consume into smoke, they shall consume away.’”