Then she went directly to the window, followed by Beebee and myself. It was an open jalousie, and to a hook in the wall I noticed that a thin ladder of silken ropes had been attached and flung over.

This was the most trying moment.

By the taper's pale glimmer I noticed that my dear young mistress was white with fear.

Miss Morgan now took me on her shoulder, and next moment swung herself over the window-sill, descending, it appeared to me, to certain death in the awful darkness.

When her head was level with the sill, she beckoned to Beebee.

"When I give the signal," she whispered, "hesitate not a moment, but speed downwards. Remember, it is for freedom, and for life itself; and, Beebee, for your prince."

How brave Miss Morgan was!

In two minutes' time, though it seemed to me it was an hour, we had reached the ground. Then Miss Morgan held fast the end of the silken ladder, and gave the signal.

_There was no response_!

What a fearful moment that was! Surely my mistress had fainted, or had the slaves awakened and held her?

I glanced upwards. Oh, joy! Against the dim, grey light above the trees, and against our prison wall, something dark was visible. And descending too.

It must _be_; it _was_, Beebee.

But see; she is still ten feet at least above the ground, when from the window, high above, comes a piercing shriek.

The slaves have awakened and given the alarm.

Beebee has paused in her descent. She is petrified with fear.

Next moment she lets go her hold and falls.

Ah! but inanimate though she be, for she has fainted, she is safe.

Strong arms have caught her; and next moment, while the great bell of our prison villa clangs forth from the turret its iron notes of alarm, we dash into the deepest, darkest part of the wood, guided by Antonio, the priest, who is carrying Beebee, and in a few minutes more are close by the river's brink.

Clang--clang--clang, goes the dreadful bell!

There is not a moment to lose. Lights are already springing up here and there, by the side of the dark stream. A boat is now liable to be intercepted or even fired upon.

Antonio steps lightly into the skiff. Miss Morgan--I still clinging to her shoulder--quickly follows, and takes Beebee, still insensible, from his arms.

One light push, one touch of the oars, and we are off and away into mid-stream, and soon speeding down the dark river to freedom and to safety.

I think that even Cracker himself drew his breath more freely now that Shireen had reached this part of the story. There could not be much more of it. Only they all wanted to hear the very, very end. So they waited in silence.

The forest would have been searched, said Shireen, everywhere; and everywhere next day, boats would dart up and down the river. But all too late, for we were all safe and sound on board that little British boat, and gaily steaming down the river.

A few weeks after this we reached Bombay, and here, once more, I had to part with Beebee, my mistress; for the terrible Indian Mutiny had broken out, and I and my master had to stay with our regiment; while Miss Morgan and her pupil, with the dear, good priest, Antonio, sailed homewards round the Cape.

Heigho! sighed Shireen. That was a terrible war, and it would take me weeks and weeks to tell you of all I heard and saw. And it was all very, very sad, too.

But dear master gained what he called honour and glory; though for the life of me, my children, I never could see where that came in, or what it meant, but it is something that soldiers and sailors greatly love, and often sigh for.

The longest time has an end, Warlock, and when the horrors of the mutiny were all things of the past, and the sun of peace shedding once more its soft rays over beautiful India, master and I found ourselves sailing back to Merrie England.

Yes, Tabby, we sailed in the dear old corvette _Hydra_, and Tom was there--Tom Brandy. Need I say that I was happy?

The first place that master started for, when the ship reached English sh.o.r.es, was his aunt's pretty home in Yorkshire.

Almost the first words he said, when his good old auntie sailed smiling into the room, were,--

"Well, my dear aunt, I am so pleased to get back alive and well; but tell me, how is the blackamoor?"

"Oh, your blackamoor," cried his aunt, laughing. "She is not far away, nor Miss Morgan either; and she is the dearest, sweetest child on earth.

Here she comes!"

Yes, there she came. And never had I seen her look more lovely, more gentle, and good.

Children! a marriage took place sometime after this, and Beebee became the wife of Colonel Edgar Clarkson.

"What!" cried Warlock. "Our master that is now?"

"Yes," said Shireen, nodding.

"And," said Tabby, "Beebee is our mistress?"

"None other."

"Oh, how delightful! How charming!"

"Tse, tse, tse!" said d.i.c.k, the starling, and off he flew to Lizzie, who, with her brother Tom, was reclining on the lawn, making gowan garlands [the gowan is the mountain daisy] to hang around their favourites' necks.

d.i.c.k alighted on Lizzie's head, and at once began to go through the motions of bathing and splashing in the sheen of her bonnie hair.

But d.i.c.k's departure seems the signal for the breaking up of the party.

For lo! shades of evening have begun to fall.

"And in the painted oriel of the West, Whose panes the sunken sun incardines, Like a fair lady at her cas.e.m.e.nt, shines The Evening Star, the star of love and rest."

So "good-nights" are said, and hands are shaken, then slowly homewards to his bungalow, by the pathway under the lindens, swings honest Ben and his c.o.c.katoo; while the shadows deepen beneath the trees, and the blackbird trills his last sweet song.

Behind him walks Cracker--a garland of gowans around his neck--all the way to the bungalow gate. Here he stops a moment to receive Ben's friendly farewell pat, then gives his droll old stump of a tail a shake, and trots slowly home alone.

The End.