That day was one of dread to the Ogilvies. At the moment of the outbreak they were together in a small house at some distance from the officers' quarters. Colonel Ogilvie was thus separated from his comrades, and was unable either to join them or to learn their fate. Seated alone, without a soul in the house besides themselves, they waited their turn. It would have been madness to have attempted an escape; the station was surrounded with mutineers, and there was no means of transit, even if they could have reached the open country. It would not have been impossible for a brave man, favoured by every fortunate circumstance, to have escaped; but even in such a case the probabilities were greatly against his success. But when ladies had to be thought of, the case became hopeless.

On, until the tropical sun began to sink in the west, did they sit wearily, sick with fear and dread. There was no conversation; but from time to time the thoughts of each heart found vent in the prayer, "Lord, have mercy on us;" and the childlike trust of little Grace, who well knew their peril, displayed itself in the artless words she breathed to the great Father, laying in her own sweet way all their trouble at the feet of Him who careth for us; and, of the

three, Grace was the most hopeful and the most cheerful. They had continued thus for what seemed hours, and the darkness was closing in. The shrieks of the pursued, the howls of the drunken and maddened sepoys, rent the air. Each sound they heard sent a shudder through Mrs. Ogilvie and Grace. But Colonel Ogilvie never stirred; he spoke no word; motionless and still, there he sat like a statue. On one side of him was the window, before him the door. He could observe the approach of any one to the house, and sat momentarily expecting their arrival. In each hand he held a loaded revolver, by his side hung his sword, and on the sofa his loaded rifle. He was resolved to defend his wife and child to the last. You could see that by the stern, rigid look of the face, and the clenched teeth and compressed lips. Woe to the leaders of the mutineers who should come under cover of his weapons. He was a dead shot, and had been known frequently to send a rifle-ball into the brain of a crouching tiger through its eye.

I have read somewhere of the strange calm. which reigns in the centre of a cyclone,* and of the sensations of oppression and dread, rather than of rest and relief, felt by those who had * A whirlwind which rushes round in a circle.

just passed through the hurricane, and are aware that they must speedily encounter it again. In all tropical climates, and to all readers of tropical travels, that awful lull which precedes the storm is well known. Such a lull was experienced by the Ogilvies; the hoarse shouts. of the insurgents for a brief space died away. They could almost hear the beating of each other's heart. A sound-a creak-a step was heard on the staircase. It was not the tramp of the rebels, but a light tread, the stealthy footfall of a woman. Yet Colonel Ogilvie grasped his revolver more firmly, for in this mutiny the women were often more bloodthirsty than the men. The step came nearer and nearer; the figure of a woman presented herself before the open door. It was Tara, Gracie's ayah. They had not seen her for hours, and now she came with a soft tread and walked right up to them ere she spoke. Now that the house had been so quiet and deserted, suspicions of the servants had entered their minds.

"What do you want?" asked the Colonel, sternly.

"Hush!" she whispered, placing her finger on her lip. "Follow me quickly." With that she turned to lead the way.

"But tell me where you are going?" he demanded. "I shall not follow you till I

know."

The woman turned round rapidly and stood facing him, looking at him with a kind of pitying scorn.

"Where I go? Sahib no trust Tara, Tara so bad? So bad? Where I take Sahib ?" and she gave a little low laugh. A moment's silence, and she continued, "I take care of you all. I, poor Tara, take care of de grand Colonel and de ladies. I no enemy. I friend. I love Missy Baba. I keep you all;" and the timid retiring Hindoo woman stood in the proud dignity of feeling that she was necessary to the safety of the family.

"But where?" asked the Colonel, incredulously.

"Little wood behind the garden," she said. "No time to lose; sepoys mad; at Chaplain's house. Very bad; kill him, kill him wife, burn house. Oh! bad, bad!" and she shuddered.

They rose and followed her, imitating her noiseless tread and gliding manner.

It was, as we said before, the close of the day, and dark shadows were beginning to fall upon the garden and the wood. Aided by the shades of evening, and keeping close to the garden

wall, they moved rapidly on to the only place of safety that seemed available. It was more properly a small jungle with great trees growing near together; the intervening space had been filled up with long waving grass, low brushwood, and creeping plants that twined and intertwined round one another, till it seemed impossible to disentangle them. Arriving at the edge of this mass of foliage, for it seemed impenetrable, Tara stood thoughtfully looking about as if for some landmark. With a low cry of recognition, she pointed to a place where the leaves and bushes seemed a little disturbed, but so slightly that only the closest scrutiny could perceive it. She stooped and cleared the path with her hands, and then, when they had all passed through the opening thus made, she quietly replaced the leaves and twigs as if they had never been moved. She led them then through a perfect maze of shrubs and trees. The darkness became deeper and deeper, and it was only by following their guide as closely as possible that they managed to keep up with her at all. On they went in single file-first Mrs. Ogilvie, then Grace, then the Colonel, and lastly, Carlo brought up the rear. Poor fellow he would come too, and they had not the heart to drive him back.