IN THE PALACE
In the general excitement no one had remembered to tell the English
ladies of the missive that had been received from the rajah. Through
Sumbaten, however, who loved gossip as much as those of her order at
home, some rumour of what was going on had filtered into their quarters
of the palace. Lingering in one of the outer halls, and wondering at
the stir in the house, she was told that the rajah's apartments were
being made ready for him, and that he was coming home that night.
Armed with this joyful news she ran back to her ladies. This was early
in the afternoon. They did not believe her in the least, so they said;
yet, as the time went on, they too became aware that something unusual
was going forward. At the instance of Sumbaten, reinforced by Lucy,
they put on gala attire. Then they wandered up and down the shaded
alley that led from the inner marble court to the summer-house, longing
for this day of many hours to come to an end.
When at last the dusk began to fall, Sumbaten, who had been sent into
the outer court to watch, came running in to say that there was an
extraordinary stir in the market-place; but that she could get no one
to tell her what it meant, for all the palace was empty.
Then they gathered together and looked into one another's faces with
wonder and hope and terror. Mrs. Lyster was as pale as death. Mrs.
Durant, who could not stand, clutched at her arm. Little Dick's mother
seized her child, who was playing about on the grass, and clasped him
in her arms, whispering that perhaps it was a rising and couldn't they
get away or hide? Lucy was trembling too, but she would show no lack
of courage. 'Nonsense,' she said a little scornfully. She looked down
and saw Aglaia standing close beside her, her clear eyes shining like
globes of light and her cheeks as red as a newly opened rose. 'What do
you think, little Miss Wisdom?' she said.
'I'm not wise, I'm foolish,' said Aglaia, 'but I know he is coming, and
the people are making a noise because they are glad. Hadn't we better
go into the hall to meet them?'
'Yes; yes; come along! Aglaia has more sense than all of us put
together,' said Lucy.
'Oh! but is all right? How shall I bear it? How shall I bear it?' cried
Mrs. Durant.
'It will soon be over. Have courage for a few more moments! Ah! if I
had only your hope!' said Mrs. Lyster.
'I beg your pardon, dear,' murmured Mrs. Durant. 'I had forgotten.'
They went together into the hall, where they found everything in
readiness for them. Beautifully-shaded lamps, which diffused a warm
glow over the apartment, were lighted; the water in the fountain
in the midst of the hall, and in the channels that ran through it,
was stirring briskly; and on the daïs at the upper end, which was
decorated with Persian rugs and embroidered curtains from famous
Indian looms, their usual evening meal was spread out. With its
delicately-wrought pavement, its sculptured pillars, its flowers and
ferns and gaily-plumaged birds, it was a room to make the mouth of the
modern æsthete water. But the English ladies were accustomed to its
beauty, and to-night they had no thoughts for it. They were given up
to listening, to watching for that which was to come. Moments passed
into minutes, and never surely were minutes so tardy in their flight.
Louder, meanwhile, and louder grew the tumult below. Lucy threatened
to veil herself and run outside, but the others held her back.
Sumbaten would rush out, stay away a few moments, and come back with
a sensational piece of news. They listened with white faces, all but
Aglaia, whose eyes were dancing, and whose face was bright with colour.
At last, when their patience was nearly at an end, they heard the gates
of the palace open. Then the sound of many voices came floating through
the courts and passages and staircases that separated their apartments
from the outer enclosure, and Sumbaten came rushing in to cry out that
the rajah had come in.
And now little Lucy set her teeth together, and Mrs. Durant gave a low
moan. 'Look out,' she whispered to Mrs. Lyster. 'I dare not.' But in
the next instant she was flying across the hall, with a wild cry of
joy, 'Kit! Kit! I hear him!'
She had heard him--the little silver voice that she had thought never
upon earth to hear again had rung out clearly above all those others.
'Kit! Kit!' It was all over then--the anguish, the suspense, the
horror of great darkness. Kit, her own golden-haired Kit, was safe.
But another cry, a cry shrill and joyous, echoes through the palace
court. He is in front, of course--the enterprising little hero; all
these people are so slow and so stately that he cannot wait for them.
He has penetrated to the foot of the great staircase that leads up to
the ladies' court and hall. There he catches a glimpse of his mother's
pale face irradiated with joy. 'Mother!' he cries.
'Kit, my little Kit, my darling!' She has him in her arms. She is
kissing him, fondling him, breathing sweet nothings over him as if he
were a baby. It is all very pleasant, of course, but to a hero of Kit's
standing just a little humiliating.
'Thank you, mother dear,' he says. 'I'm awfully glad too! But look
here!' drawing himself gently away. 'Couldn't you kiss me presently? I
don't mind it, you know. I like it. But there are such a lot of people
here just now, and we're blocking up the way.' Put down upon his feet,
he smoothed his ruffled plumes, and looked round him with dignity.
'Ah!' seeing Lucy close by, 'here's some one else I know. How do you
do, Lucy?'
'Very well, thank you, Kit,' said Lucy, with corresponding gravity.
'You look all right,' said Kit. 'I've brought back Grace, you know. But
I say,' catching sight of Aglaia, 'who's this?'
'Do you want to be introduced to her formally, you ridiculous child?'
said Lucy. 'Mrs. Durant, for heaven's sake take him away! He will make
me laugh, and I feel more inclined to cry. Ah! Here they come! Grace!
Grace!'
'Daddy Tom!' said Aglaia, pressing forward.
'Tom! Tom Gregory! How could I ever have mistaken him?' cried Mrs.
Lyster; but she kept in the background, and her cheeks, which had been
so pale, were flushed with colour. They were mounting the marble steps
together, Grace leaning on the rajah's arm, and he with no eyes for
anyone but her. She was very pale, as if she were weary, and there was
a curious steadfast look in her eyes, which rested nowhere; but seemed
always to be looking on to something beyond.
'Grace!' repeated Lucy, and could say no more, for the words seemed
frozen on her lips. Then, in a rapid whisper to Tom, 'Does she know us?
Why does she look so?'
'Yes, yes. She is tired. I am afraid the coming in and the welcome of
the people have been too much for her,' said Tom hoarsely. 'Let her
rest, and she will be better to-morrow!'
He did not ask for Mrs. Lyster, who kept still in the background
watching him with one of her old smiles upon her lips. To Mrs. Durant,
who had caught his hands and was pouring out her gratitude, he could
scarcely pay even the attention necessary for politeness. As for
Aglaia, her whispered greeting had been quite unheeded. He had not so
much as seen her. The child turned away with a pale face and clouded
eyes. 'He saved me too,' she whispered; 'but he has forgotten.'
They had reached the top of the stairs. Grace was smiling, but there
was still that strange fixed look in her eyes. Lucy, divided between
tears and laughter, threw her arms about her cousin's neck, and covered
her face with kisses. Then she led her in to the others, chattering
wildly. 'I can scarcely believe you have really come back!' she cried.
'I think I shall awake to-morrow and find it a dream. If you only
knew what I have gone through, darling. I felt myself such a dreadful
coward. I should have gone away with you as Kit did, brave little Kit!
And oh! aren't you glad to be amongst us again? To-morrow you must tell
us your adventures. Grace! why do you look so? Laugh! cry! say you
are happy or sorry! Do anything! Perhaps it would be a relief to your
feelings to scream. I know it would be to mine,' said Lucy, gazing at
her cousin earnestly. But Grace only smiled that placid smile, looking
out still as if she saw something beyond them. They brought her to a
softly-cushioned divan on the daïs. Tom had given her up to Lucy. He
was stumbling back across the hall when his glance fell upon Aglaia,
and he stopped. She was standing by herself, and her eyes were full of
tears.
'Aglaia!' he said, stooping over her kindly. 'Are you crying because we
have come back?'
The child did not speak. 'But what is it, then? I thought I should have
seen you dancing with joy.'
'I was a few minutes ago,' said Aglaia vaguely.
'And has something happened since then, little friend? Come! Tell me!
They are all busy up there, so no one else will hear.'
'No; no; no; it's nothing,' said Aglaia, choking back her sobs. 'I _am_
your little friend still.'
'Of course you are, dear. Did you think I was so fickle as to have
forgotten you?'
The pink flush mounted to Aglaia's face.
'Please forgive me,' she said softly. 'And'--hesitating--
'Yes, dear--go on!'
'She is lovely. I think I shall love her, even though you do like her
best.'
'Best!' echoed Tom, smiling. 'Now you are a little goose! Don't you
know, Aglaia, that there are different kinds of loving! I love you as
my child--my little friend.'
'And Grace?' said Aglaia. 'Isn't she your friend too?'
'She is my friend, and something more. At least, I hope so. You know we
may have more friends than one.'
'Yes,' said Aglaia doubtfully. But she added under her breath, 'There
is only one best.'