Occasions make heroes of very ordinary men; and Aminadab felt that he could be one of these worthies that night.  He soon left after these words of Janet; but he was now more upon his guard against watchers.  Perhaps Janet had mentioned them to induce him to avoid too minute an examination where there was danger of another kind; and this rather encouraged him.  The only fault of his heroism was the strange feelings which arose in his mind when he thought of the Indian spirit.  Somehow this vision could not be got rid of, or analyzed by the small philosophy he had.  As for Fletcher, he viewed him merely as a human monster,—­no uncommon phenomenon at a time when, although there might not be any greater evil than now, men were more reckless of consequences, more dead to shame, less under the control of public opinion, probably not less under the fear of God.  He cleared the wicket.  It was again a bright moonlight night.  He passed again the Cradle, and was bold enough to listen again.  Alas! the wail was weaker, the bright lamp of these eyes was fast losing its oil.  So he thought; for he could hear only now and then a very inaudible sob, and occasionally a very weak wail, shrill and yet low.  He could not stay, for Janet would be coming stealthily with her cruse,—­yes, her cruse; for, so far as he could see by the narrow slips, all was darkness around the dying stranger, in a proud land of liberty and humanity—­the proudest seen on the face of the earth, or perhaps ever will be seen; yet by-and-by to have more reason to be proud—­by-and-by, when Kalee would be asleep in the bosom of Brahma, her body only the monument of the shams of that proud land of liberty and humanity, and the true religion of God’s covenant from the beginning.

Retreating quickly, he proceeded over the green hollow, and got into the skirt of Balgay wood.  There he stood patiently, still fearful, but with the new-born zeal of curiosity and sympathy.  By-and-by he saw Janet come out with her cruse, and walk as lightly as her huge body would permit.  She looked round and round, as if in great fear of Fletcher, probably of the Indian spirit; for it was clear she had a conviction of the truth of the real presence of Brahma.  All is still; no Fletcher seen, nor watch.  But in about half an hour the dark Aditi came trotting out, clothed in pure white, looking also fearfully about her; but it was more clear that she expected some one.  Stranger still, she made for the very spot where Aminadab was watching.  He studied her direction to the breadth of a line, and stepped aside.  There was plenty of foliage and some thick bushes.  He threw himself down on the ground, and heard the sighing of Ady as if almost close to him.  By-and-by she was joined by the mystery—­yes, that being who had so long been the terror of Logie House to all but the master, who knew nothing of him.  He was there; but Aminadab could not see more of him than his head, which was, as usual, enveloped in the