The secret of the peculiarly-scented water was explained: it was a
stain, prepared for the purpose, and face, neck, hands, arms were no
longer those of Helen Perowne--whose complexion was acknowledged even by
her detractors to be perfect--for as she again gazed within the limits
of that little badly-reflecting glass, it was to see that her
countenance now was as swarthy as that of the darkest of the Malays by
whom she was attended.
It was a great shock; but there was a trouble even worse to come.
The two Malay girls burst into fits of laughter as they saw her horror,
their eyes glittering with malicious pleasure; and catching Helen's arms
in their hands, they laid them side by side with their own, to show her
that they were as nearly as could be of about the same hue.
Then they mockingly pointed to her face, and to their own, holding the
glass before her again and again, while from the smattering she knew of
the language, Helen made out that they were telling her how beautiful
she looked now, and that she ought to be grateful for that which they
had done.
By degrees, though, the anguish she was suffering seemed to be realised,
and to wake an echo in their coarser minds, and they began to soften
towards her, speaking tenderly, and patting her hands and cheeks, and at
last going so far as to kiss her, as they whispered what were evidently
meant to be words of comfort.
"You foolish thing," cried the elder of the two; "what is there so
dreadful in it all? He loves you, and you will be his chief wife. It
is we who ought to weep, not you."
"Yes," cried the other, apparently quite oblivious of the fact that only
about one word in ten was comprehended by the prisoner; "we are jealous
of you, for you take away his love from us. The Rajah has talked about
you for a long time, saying how lovely you were, only that you were so
fair."
"I hate you," cried the first; "but I will not be cruel, for you are in
trouble. You have been brought away from your father. I remember so
well how I was ready to beat my head against the trees, and to drown
myself in the river, when they brought me from my home. But Murad was
very angry when I wept, and after a time I learned how to bear my
sorrow, and I wept no more."
"I wept, too," said the other, "for I loved a handsome young fisherman,
and when they dragged me away from my home I fought, and bit, and tore
people, and Murad said I was to be krissed and thrown into the river.
Then I thought about the crocodiles, and I felt that it would be too
dreadful, and I left off crying, and so will you. There, try and bear
it, for it is of no avail to weep. Murad is prince, and what he will
have he has."
Hardly one word in ten, but the recurrence of the name "Murad" and
"love" were sufficient to make her suspicions certainties; and as she
fully realised the extent of her trouble, she shuddered, and sat with
her hands tightly clasped, gazing into vacancy, and asking herself what
madness had been hers that she should have allowed her folly to bring
her to so sad a pass.
She was soon after left to herself, and leaving the matting divan upon
which she had been seated, she paced the room, frantically trying door
and windows in turn, but only to find all fast. Again and again she
found her follies recurring to her mind, and she blamed herself bitterly
for her coquetry, and the thoughtless love of admiration which had
tempted her to attract the Rajah's notice.
So terribly agitating were her thoughts now, that in her excitement her
hands shook, her legs trembled beneath her weight, and her busy
imagination coursed on so swiftly that she saw herself the injured,
helpless wife of the insulted Malay, the occupant of a zenana, and the
slave of the man whom she had maddened by her weakness and folly.
It was terrible; and so black did the future outlook become to her
excited imagination, that the only gleam of hope through the darkness
was represented by a shuddering belief that it would be better now to
die.
Carried off as she had been, unknown to any but the Rajah's followers,
and now hidden away in this place, that seemed to be far in the depths
of the jungle, there seemed no chance of her whereabouts being
discovered; while were it known to any European who should see her, upon
what would he gaze but one who was in his eyes an ordinary Malay woman!
This, then, was the goal to which her ambition had carried her. It was
for this that she had laughed at the protestations of her many admirers,
the humblest of whom she would gladly have accepted now sooner than
become the wife, or rather slave, of this petty, half-savage Rajah.
"Poor Hilton!" she thought sadly to herself, as she stood by the window,
gazing out at the great green leaves of the jungle. Would he suffer
much at her loss? or, feeling too indignant on account of her late
treatment, be too angry to care?
Then she began thinking of Chumbley, and wished that he, with his strong
arm, were by her side to protect her in this hour of need; and it was a
bitter humiliation to her to feel that this man, towards whom she had
always felt a kind of good-humoured contempt, should be one to whom she
was ready to cling in the time of adversity.
Then the calm, pensive features of Arthur Rosebury seemed to rise before
her like an upbraiding spectre, and she, for the first time, seemed to
see her cruelty in trifling with the best feelings of a man who was
gentle, tender, and true of heart as a woman; she knew now how she must
have wounded him, and yet he had borne it all in a patient,
uncomplaining way, bearing with her follies, displaying no jealousy, but
condoning everything, and seeming only too happy if she paid him with a
smile.
There was something very nearly akin to pity and regret in her thoughts
at this time; and like some punished child, there came to her mind weak,
repentant vows of amendment and simple promises never to do so again.
Lastly, the face of Neil Harley seemed to rise before her, not pitying
or pleading like the rest, but with a quiet smile of triumph that made
her think upon his words, and what is more, set her longing for him to
be by her side to help and protect her.
She passed her hands across her eyes angrily, and seemed to disclaim the
wish, but directly after came the recollection of her state, and she
uttered a weary cry of misery. She had despised him before--he would
despise her now; and if he could see her as she had seen herself in that
mirror, he would turn from her in disgust.
She pondered again, as she grew calmer, upon his words to her, uttered
as they had been in his quiet, bantering way--that he would wait his
time till she was weary of trifling with others, when she would turn to
him and gladly become his wife.
Never until now had Helen felt how true these words might prove, for as
she rested her burning forehead against the bamboo trellis of her
window, asking the outer air to cool her fevered face--that face that he
would never look upon again with the eyes of love--his calm, grave
manner of dealing with others seemed so representative of power and
readiness to help, that her heart went out to him as to her natural
protector, and in a low, passionate voice, she murmured:
"Neil--Neil--come to me before it is too late!"
Then came once more as it were a wave of despair to sweep over her and
overwhelm her in misery and despair.
"It is too late--too late," she moaned. "I might have been happy and at
peace, but it is too late--too late."
As she stood there wringing her hands, she found herself thinking more
and more of Neil Harley, and she saw now what she had been too
indifferent to appreciate before; that beneath his calm, half-mocking
mien there was a depth of affection that she now began to realise to its
fullest extent.
And yet he had borne with her follies patiently, merely laughing at acts
that she knew now must have given him great pain, doubtless feeling that
some day she would sorrow for what she had done, and seek by her
affection to recompense him for all that had gone before.
Her heart told her, now that she did turn to him--that she was feeling
the strength of his love in the echo it met with in her own heart. She
had not known that it was there--this love for him--but it surely was;
and now her punishment was to be a terrible one--that of one torn by
regret for the love that might have been hers, but which she had cast
away.
For it was too late now--too late, and those words seemed to be ever
repeating themselves in her ears.
She had never cared for either of those who had been her slaves in turn.
Their attentions and service had been pleasant, and they had been in
favour for the time; but she soon wearied of them, and but for the fact
that Captain Hilton was cast in a firmer mould than either of the
others, the days of his love-slavery would have been shorter far. Would
he come and try to save her? her heart asked--would Neil Harley come?
She asked this again and again, but each time, with crushing violence,
the answer seemed to come that if they did, it would be too late--too
late.
It was wonderful how, in the few hours she was left alone, her thoughts
seemed now to centre upon the Resident. She remembered her father, and
thought of how he would be troubled at her absence; and she recalled
Hilton, Chumbley, the Reverend Arthur Rosebury, but only as subsidiary
portraits in her mental picture. Neil Harley's was the principal
figure, and his face seemed to smile now encouragement to her as she
mentally appealed to him for help, looking to him as the one whose duty
it was to afford her protection, and save her from the perils which
hemmed her in.
"It will he--it is--a bitter lesson to me," she thought, as she grew
more calm. "He will find out where I am--he will never rest until he
does; and when he sees me will he cast me off? No," she cried,
hysterically; "he will have pity on me--have pity--for, oh, Heaven help
me! I need it now sorely."
These thoughts brought calmness to the prisoner, and uttering a sigh of
relief, she left the window, and threw herself wearily upon the soft
mats spread for her use--neither chair nor table being in the
apartment--and there she reclined, wondering how long a time would
elapse before Neil Harley could come to her help; for minute by minute
her belief strengthened that, well supported by her friends, he would
soon be there.
Helen's increasing calmness gave her a return of appetite, and she
gained strength for trials to come by partaking heartily of the food
placed before her; and, as the evening advanced into night, she lay down
and rested, giving her companions no trouble by fresh attempts to
escape.
The bright morning sunshine gave her fresh hope and a sense of
cheerfulness which she assumed with beating heart was due to the fact
that Neil Harley was drawing nearer, and in this elated spirit she
partook of breakfast, the two Malay girls laughing merrily and pausing
to place some sweet-scented flowers in her tresses. Then she had to
submit while they made some alteration in the way in which they had
bound up her hair, showing their teeth more than seemed necessary, and
drawing her attention to the fact that they were not only dyed, but
filed in a particular way.
They were very attentive, bringing her flowers and fruit in large
quantities. Then they brought brighter and gayer sarongs, asking her if
she would change, telling her that her darkened face was becoming,
pointing to her teeth at the same time, and tapping their own.
She was puzzled for the time, but the explanation was not long in
coming.
In the course of the morning, while she sat listening to the babble of
the two attendants, but with her ears strained to catch every external
sound, she suddenly heard voices outside talking earnestly, and her
heart gave a hopeful throb as she turned her head, her fond imagination
suggesting, at once, the thought that the excitement outside was due to
the knowledge of strangers being at hand.
Helen's hope died out like the flickering flame of an exhausted lamp, as
the thick woven curtain hanging over the door was held aside, and a
tall, muscular, repulsive-looking Malay woman entered with three others,
whom, by their rich dresses, Helen supposed to be the Rajah's wives.
They looked at her once or twice, and then stood talking together in
their own tongue. Then they left the room quickly, and returned to
speak eagerly, glancing the while at where Helen sat watchfully scanning
them, till the tall, repulsive woman, having apparently received her
instructions, they all approached the soft matting couch.
It was a strange experience for an English lady, and Helen's heart beat
fast as she asked herself what all this meant.
"It is some native form of marriage-service," she thought, to which she
was about to be compelled to submit. She had heard of marriage by
proxy, and this might be one; for in her state of alarm she was ready to
accept any idea, preposterous though it might seem.
"I will not submit!" she said to herself, and setting her teeth fast,
she prepared to resist them as long as she had life. This she felt was
the meaning of her being attired in the Malay fashion; and gazing from
one to the other in an excited way, she drew herself up and awaited the
attack, if attack there was to be.
The tall Malay woman came up to her slowly, till she stood smiling
beside the couch, while the others seemed to carelessly group themselves
together, as if what was to occur was not of the slightest consequence;
but Helen saw they were watching her with eager interest all the same.
A fresh regret assailed the prisoner now, and that was her want of
knowledge of the Malay tongue, as she sat wondering what was the meaning
of the conversation that had taken place.
The tall woman spoke to her then slowly, and trying to make her
comprehend, but it was some moments before Helen understood her demand.
"Let me look at your teeth."
Helen shrank back, but the woman's hand was upon her lips, and she
forced one aside, laying bare the pure white ivory, and then snatched
her hand away with a contemptuous ejaculation full of disgust.
"Bad! bad!" she cried in Malay; and then all laughed, as Helen rose up
and drew away from them, her eyes flashing with indignation.
"I will make them well," said the woman, taking a little woven grass bag
from her sarong, and drawing therefrom a small brass phial and a steel
implement, whose use Helen did not then comprehend.
The woman spoke to her then in an imperative tone, stepped forward, and,
taking her arm, tried to force her into a sitting posture; but with a
cry of anger Helen thrust her back and ran to the door, dragging aside
the curtain, and trying to pass through.
The effort was vain, and uttering some sharp angry commands, the woman
advanced to her once more, speaking rapidly in her own tongue, and
before Helen could avoid her rapid action, she found herself pinioned by
the wrists.
What followed was, as Helen afterwards recalled it, one frantic struggle
against superior power. She remembered crying loudly for help, being
held back upon the matting, and suffering intense pain, as her
tormentors held her lips apart, some of them scolding virulently, others
laughing and ridiculing her; and then a feeling of exhaustion came on,
and nature could do no more than beneficently bring upon her complete
ignorance of the indignity to which she, an English lady, was forced to
submit, by steeping her senses in a profound swoon, leaving her at the
mercy of Murad's slaves.