"I shall watch you till you are out of sight," he said. "Good-by."
"Good-by--and thank you!"
According to his word, he stood where she had left him, his eyes fixed
immovably, like those of a bronze statue, on the slight, elastic figure,
as it hurried toward the lights of the distant Station. When at last the
purple mist had swallowed her from his sight, he looked up toward the
heavens.
Just where the mist ended and the clear sky began, the evening star rose
in its first splendor and shone through the dry atmosphere, signaling to
its fellows that night was come. One by one others followed. As time
passed, the moon in a cloud of silver lifted herself in stately progress
above the black outline of the jungle and touched with her first beams the
filigree minarets of the temple.
Nehal Singh bowed his head in prayer.
"Oh, Lord Brahma, I thank thee!"
A short-lived breath of evening air caught up the passionate murmur of his
voice and mingled it with the rustling of the Sacred Tree whose restless,
shimmering, silver leaves hung above his head. He understood their whisper
as he listened. It was the accents of the god to whom he prayed, and all
the poetic mysticism of his nature responded to the call.
"Oh, Lord Brahma, Creator, I thank thee!" he repeated; then turned, and
with head still bowed, passed back through the high marble gates.
CHAPTER V
ARCHIBALD TRAVERS PLAYS BRIDGE
The ayah put the last touches to Beatrice Cary's golden hair, drew back a
little to judge the general effect, and then handed her mistress the
handglass.
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