Bertram paused before he replied--

"Your words move me, Atmâ Singh, for I have heard that on the first day
of a new week a Representative Man rose from the dead."

They reached the Burying Ground. It was a lovely spot. Fallen into
disuse, the bewitching grace of carelessness was added to the
architectural beauty of the tombs. The verdure was rank, and luxuriant
trees and marble tombs alike were festooned with clematis and jasmine.
Here they were pleased to find Nawab Khan and the servant, whom he
dismissed on their arrival, and himself guided them to an old tomb
simpler in form than the rest, but more tenderly and beautifully clothed
in moss and wild flowers than any. They sat down while the Nawab related
the story of the maiden whose goodness it commemorated.

"Sangita," said he, "was a princess of incomparable beauty and
surpassing gentleness. Her spirit was humble; and as the heavenly
streams of wisdom and virtue seek lowly places, her nature shone every
day with a purer lustre. She loved tenderly a gazelle which she had
reared, and which was the companion of her happy hours. It was not of
the King's flocks but had been found in Sangita's own garden, and none
knew who had brought it there. The talkative people, noting the sagacity
of the pretty creature and the tender solicitude of its mistress, who
crowned it anew with garlands every morning and fed it with sweetest
milk and the loveliest flower buds, whispered to one another of its
mysterious appearance, and alleged for it miraculous origin. One day as
it fed among lilies, the princess near by, overcome by the heat,
slumbered. She slept long and heavily, and when she awoke her favourite
was nowhere to be seen. Calling and weeping, she wandered through vale
and glade, searching the hare's covert, but starting back, for she