SMILES AND TEARS.
One morning, Monella sought Leonard and reverted to their former
conversation about Ulama.
"You have well considered all the words I spoke to you, my son?" he
said. "Are you still of the same mind?"
"I had hoped that you knew me too well to think it necessary to ask the
question," Leonard said earnestly. "Since I first looked upon Ulama, my
love for her has been given past all recall. I have never wavered in my
resolution to remain here for her dear sake, if I may hope to gain the
king's consent."
"Then," returned Monella, "the king would talk with you concerning it.
Let us go to him."
And, without further preface, he led the young man into the private
chamber of King Dranoa, where he left him.
The king, Leonard thought, looked ill and careworn; but he received him
with great kindness, and in a manner that quickly reassured the anxious
lover.
"It has been no secret to me for some time," said Dranoa, "that thou
hast looked with affection upon my child. She, too, hath spoken to me;
I see that she hath set her heart upon this thing, and I love her too
dearly to desire to thwart her wishes, unless for some weighty reason.
Here I see no such reason; for, though thou art a stranger, yet thou
art worthily recommended by one upon whose judgment I have learned to
place reliance. He that led thee hither is not a man to act lightly or
without full consideration in a matter of such paramount importance;
if thou hast gained his confidence and esteem, I doubt not that there
are good reasons for it. He hath the unerring eye that pierces to the
very heart, and that no hypocrisy, no cunning, can deceive. Were it
the case that my dominions were to-day the great empire over which
my forefathers held sway, I would seek such a man's advice in the
appointment of my generals, my ministers, my governors for distant
districts. Therefore do I feel that I can rely upon his judgment, even
in a matter so momentous as the choice of one to espouse my child and
to succeed me on my throne. And knowing, as I do full well, that the
'falloa' hath laid its hand upon me and that my days in this my land
are numbered, it is grateful to mine heart to feel that my child will
be comforted, when I am gone, by one whose affection for her is pure
and wholly hers, and who will have at his side a friend and counsellor
who will guide his youthful steps in the path that I would have him
follow. This conviction hath lifted from mine heart a grievous trouble,
and hath enabled me to bear without sorrow or regret the knowledge that
the fatal sickness hath taken hold upon me. For the fact that I shall
now soon quit this earthly life I care nothing in itself; it hath been
the fear of what would then befall that hath filled me with forebodings
and with fear. But, if I see--as I hope to see--the power of the Black
Coryon broken and destroyed for ever; my child wedded to one worthy of
her love and honour; my successor aided and advised by one so competent
to guide as is thy friend, then indeed I shall feel I can lay down the
burden of life with thanksgiving, and take my way to the great unknown
of the hereafter without fear, without regret, without a sigh; but,
instead, with the great content of one who feels he hath nothing more
to wish or hope for upon earth. For know, my son," continued Dranoa
with grave emphasis, "no man wisheth to prolong his life for that which
it hath yielded, but rather for that which he is hopeful it may yield.
The proof of this is easy; no man desireth to live his life over again;
therefore he is, at heart, and from actual experience, dissatisfied
and wearied with life; not charmed with it. Yet do many cling to it,
fatuously believing, in the face of all their own actual experience,
that it shall yet, in the future, afford them joys and gratifications
they have never found in the past. These, my son, are the words of one
who hath lived long enough to gain the wisdom that teacheth how to sift
the wheat from the chaff."
Dranoa paused, and remained silent awhile. Then he resumed, with a
change of tone,
"But I wish not to weigh down thy young imaginings with the sober
knowledge that belongeth not to thine years but to mine. It will
be sufficient to give thee counsel that is more suited to the
circumstances. Therefore I say this to thee: thou hast a good heart and
good instincts--trust them, follow them honestly; and leave the rest
to the Great Spirit that ruleth over all. And now I have but one more
thing to say; it were better for the present that this that is between
us were not known openly. Personally, that will not concern thee. When
the time hath come, I will myself announce it to my people. Meanwhile,
thy mind will be at rest with the knowledge of my approval of thy suit."
Leonard gratefully poured out his thanks to the kind-hearted king; then
went to seek Ulama.
He found her sitting alone in an apartment that overlooked the lake, so
deep in thought that she did not hear his coming. She was leaning on
the window-sill gazing pensively upon the beauties of the scene that
lay outspread before her.
But Leonard thought, as he caught sight of her and stayed his steps
upon the threshold, that she herself was the fairest creation of all,
posed as she was with that unconscious grace and charm that seemed
with her to be innate. For a full minute he stood in silence; then,
still without moving towards her, he softly called her name, as though
fearing to approach her till he had permission.
She turned her head towards him with no surprise, but with a look of
sweetest pleasure in her gentle eyes.
"I did not hear you," she said dreamily, "and yet--I know not why--I
was looking for your coming."
"And what were you thinking of so profoundly, sweet Ulama?"
"I was thinking," she replied, "how much more beautiful our lake and
its surroundings have seemed to me of late. I scarce noticed them
before; I suppose because I have known them all my life. Yet, now
that you have pointed out some of their beauties, I not only feel and
appreciate them, but I note many others on all sides that I never saw
before. It is very strange! I wonder why it is?"
"It is _love_, Ulama," Leonard said, coming quietly to her side and
laying his hand lightly on her shoulder. "Love can make the plainest
works of nature beautiful; small wonder then if it makes those that are
really so display new and unsuspected charms. It is because love has
taken up his dwelling in your heart that you now see new beauties in
these familiar scenes."
But Ulama shook her head sagely, and smilingly made answer,
"You know you told me that the first time you saw our lake you deemed
it the fairest spot on all the earth. And you did not know me then, so
could not love me. How then can what you say explain it?"
Leonard laughed and took her hand in his.
"You forget that I had seen you in my dreams and had loved you
long before," he said. "Perhaps some instinct told me that here I
should find the abode of her who already had my heart. Or, if that
explanation does not please you, here is another. Love and sympathy are
inseparable; you admire, now, things that you thought little of before,
because you see that _I_ admire them."
"Yes; that may be," Ulama admitted, with a thoughtful look. "But then,
it does not explain why _you_ should see beauties where _I_ did not. I
think you must have a quicker appreciation of the beautiful in nature
than is given to me."
"It may be so; and that in turn explains how it came about that I was
so quick to realise the beauty of the fairest daughter of Manoa!" And
Leonard's look was so tender, so full of loving admiration, that it
brought a rosy glow to Ulama's cheek. "And it also reminds me that I
sought you here to tell you something of importance, something that has
brought joy and gladness to my heart. I have just been talking about
you with the king."
The colour in the girl's cheek grew deeper; and now she turned her
glance again upon the landscape that lay sleeping in the morning
sunlight.
"Dear love," continued Leonard, "think what it means to me--to both of
us, I hope--when I tell you that the king has given me permission to
ask you to give yourself to me! Ah! Not only has he done that, but he
has done it in a manner--accompanied it with kind words of trust and
confidence that have filled my whole heart with gratitude. He speaks as
though I had already _proved_ that which I can only hope to show in the
future--my true desire to make myself worthy of your love. His kindness
and many marks of friendship towards one who is but a stranger here
have overwhelmed me. I feel the whole devotion of my life to you and
him can scarce repay such generous, ungrudging proofs of his confidence
and favour."
"You have a good friend in Monella," Ulama said quietly. "He never
fails to speak well of you when occasion offers. And he is one of our
own race, and has had great experience of the world outside, of which
we know nothing; and my father knows he can rely on his opinion."
"Yes, I know that is true, dear love, and my heart burns with gratitude
to him too. And now, beloved"--and he put his arms round her and drew
her to him--"may I not think of you as all my own? Let me hear you say
with those dear lips that you know now what love is, that it has sprung
up unforced in your pure heart; let me hear you say, 'Leonard, I love
you!'"
And, as he drew her closer to him and her head nestled upon his
shoulder, a whisper, that seemed but a faint sigh, breathed softly the
words so sweet to hear for the first time from a loved-one's lips--"I
love you!"
Later in the day Leonard told Templemore of his interview with the
king; and, as he did so, a look came over his face that, as his friend
expressed it to himself, "did one's heart good to see, even if but once
in a lifetime!"
"In your happiness I too feel happy, dear old boy," he said. "And I
should have little concern, for the time being, if only those at home
knew we were alive and well. As it is, the thought of their anxiety
troubles me unceasingly."
"Let us hope our signal flares were seen and will be reported," Leonard
answered. "I think they must have been seen; and, if so, Carenna is
sure to hear of it, and will find some way of sending word."
This referred to what they had done to carry out Leonard's suggestion.
After some perseverance in watching from the spot they had selected,
they saw, one evening, camp fires far out on the savanna. At once they
made their signals with small heaps of powder, and these they repeated
several times. No response whatever came; nor did they expect any.
There was nothing for it but to wait patiently in the hope that their
signals had been seen.
Then ensued a time, lasting many weeks, which was almost uneventful. To
Leonard and Ulama it was one uninterrupted dream of blissful happiness.
To Templemore it was pleasant and interesting, for he found plenty to
engage his mind. He studied the designs of the chief buildings; of the
bridges that spanned the streams that fed the lake. In the arches and
general construction of these he formed engineering ideas that were new
to him. He visited often the great waterfall that formed the outlet
of the lake, and declared that the sight of the vast body of water
shooting out in its leap of two thousand feet, its deep, thundering
roar, and the play of colour when the sun shone into the mist and
spray, made up a combination that threw Niagara itself--which he had
seen--into the shade.
One day, when Ulama and Zonella were alone together, the former thus
addressed her friend,
"Sometimes of late I have fancied there has been some unpleasant
passage between you and Leonard's friend. I myself am so fortunate, so
happy, that I like not to see those about me otherwise. I would have
all my friends as happy as myself." And she took Zonella's hand and
rubbed her face affectionately against it. "Tell me, Zonella, have you
two quarrelled?"
For a moment Zonella's face, usually so pleasant to behold, looked hard
and almost fierce. Then it softened, and, with a loud cry, she threw
her arms around Ulama; she hid her face in the gentle bosom, and burst
into a torrent of impassioned tears.
It was some time before Ulama, greatly surprised as well as pained and
puzzled, could understand the meaning of this outburst; but presently
Zonella, growing somewhat calmer, sobbed out,
"Ah! _You_--you little know, little think what I have suffered. He
cares no more for me than he does for you--perhaps less. His heart is
elsewhere; he is set upon going away from our land, and only his regard
for his friend delays him."
Ulama's beautiful face bent over Zonella's, and her tears fell upon the
other's cheek as she pressed her lovingly to her bosom.
"Alas! Alas! My poor Zonella! And is it possible that love, which has
been so sweet to me, should bring to you but pain and suffering? I
almost fear for my own happiness; that my selfishness in yielding to
it has blinded me to what was going on with the others. But it never
occurred to me that love that is to me so wonderful in the joy and
pleasure it confers, could also be the cause of misery and sorrow.
And yet," she added thoughtfully, "you are not without one to love
you. Poor Ergalon has long been faithful to his love for you. Oh, how
strange and contrary it all seems! Poor fellow! Perhaps you have made
him suffer even as you yourself have suffered. Can his love not console
you? I know so little myself that what I say may be only foolishness,
yet----"
Zonella smiled faintly, and shook her head. Then she kissed the other
tenderly.
"Let us say no more, my dear," she said. "I am sorry I gave way as I
did; but you took me by surprise. Perhaps, too, your implied advice is
wise. It might be better to try to love the one you _know_ does truly
love you, than to fret your heart out after one who loves you not, and
who is beyond your reach. At least, as you say, there _is_ one in the
world who loves me."
Thus the time sped on. Monella was much away; sometimes for a week
together; so the young men saw comparatively little of him. Templemore,
on one occasion, expressed a wish to visit Myrlanda with him, but
Monella said there were difficulties in the way.
"It is better you two should remain here for the present," he declared.
"At a future time, let us hope it may be different."
But one day Monella came to him with a look of gravity that at once
aroused his interest.
"It is time," he said, "that I should show you something of the truth,
that you may understand what lies before us. Can you brace up your
courage and your nerve to stand a severe trial?"
Templemore opened his eyes in astonishment.
"Need you ask?" he answered. "Have you ever known me wanting in
courage?"
"Ah, no. But this that I refer to requires courage of a different sort.
Yet it must be faced. But I warn you it will be a shock. Make up your
mind to a test that will tax all the nerve you can summon to your aid."
"And Leonard too?" Jack inquired, wondering.
"No. Say nothing to him. Let his dream be happy while it may. Be ready
to come out with me to-night, when Ergalon shall come to seek you. And
bring your rifle."