It was some few moments after she had been seized again, and this time
held by two hands stronger than her own, that Helen Perowne realised the
fact that it was the Malay girl that had shown her the most compassion
who had taken her by the arm.
"What are you doing here?" was whispered in a low, angry voice.
Helen made no reply, and as she clung to the window, the girl went on:
"You were trying to get away, but it is of no use. Murad knew that when
they brought you here. If you could get out of this place you could not
go far through the jungle before the tigers would tear you down. No one
kills them here. He has them kept that he may hunt them; but when the
time for hunting them comes, Murad is away with the English people, or
he is not well, or he has no elephants, so the tigers are never touched.
They would tear you down, I say, and when Murad's men searched for you,
they would only find your bones. I remember two girls escaping to the
jungle, but they were both killed."
"Better that than stay here," said Helen, in a low, excited voice.
"Listen to me," she continued, striving hard to make herself understood;
"you do not like me--you do not want me here."
"No!" said the girl, fiercely. "I wish you had not come--that you would
go and be killed; but if you were to escape, Murad would kill us all;
and I do not want to die--no--not yet."
"No, no; he would not be so cruel," whispered Helen, who trembled with
hope and excitement, as she felt that a chance for escape had at last
come. "Help me to get away--to get back to my friends!" she cried,
appealingly. "Let me escape, and I will reward you--I will give you
what you like. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, I know what you say," replied the girl, "but I do not believe it.
You are the English lady who made the Rajah love you because he was so
handsome. We know all here; and now that he has brought you, what is
this you tell me--that you want to go away? Oh, no! it is like a little
child. I do not believe one word!"
"But it is true!" whispered Helen. "Speak lower, or you will waken
her," said the girl; "and she hates you more than I!"
"I will obey you in anything," whispered Helen, restraining her voice,
and sinking down and clutching the girl's knees, "only help me to
escape, and my father will fill your hands with gold."
"What use would it be to me?" said the girl with a quiet little laugh.
"I will give you anything you ask!" panted Helen excitedly, as she
seemed to see a faint chance of the girl yielding.
"Do you not understand what would happen if I helped you to go?" said
the girl, quietly.
"No; I cannot tell," replied Helen, "but I will not mind the danger."
"There is more danger for me than for you," was the answer, with a
little laugh. "I will tell you: Murad would be angry and fierce; he
would forget that he loved me once, and brought me here to be one of his
wives. He would make his men take me to the river, and force me to
kneel down, when I should be krissed and thrown into the water for the
crocodiles to eat."
"Oh, no; it is too horrible!" whispered Helen, as her excited
imagination conjured up the dreadful scene.
"It is true," said the girl, simply. "He had one wife krissed like that
because she ran away twice--because she ran away to the boy she loved
before she was taken from her home. Murad is Sultan, and he will be
obeyed. He is very cruel sometimes!"
Helen shuddered as she thought that if this were true, she could not ask
for help at such a price.
"I should have gone away before now," said the girl, thoughtfully, as
her hands played with Helen's hair; "for I have someone else who
followed me here that he might be near me; but I dare not go! Murad
would kill me. It would not hurt much, and I don't think I should mind;
but he would kill someone else, and I could not bear that!"
"Go, then," said Helen quickly. "Leave me to myself. Let me escape
without your help!"
"He would kill me and her all the same," said the girl, sadly; "and if I
let you get out, what could you do? You would wander in the jungle till
the beasts seized you, or you died. You must have a boat to escape from
here; and if you could get a boat you could not row."
"I would escape along the jungle-paths," whispered Helen, excitedly.
"No," said the girl, "you could not do that. There is only one path
through the jungle, and that goes from this house to the river. That is
all. You cannot escape; why do you try?"
Helen rose from her knees, and clutched the girl's arms fiercely.
"I can escape, and I will!" she panted excitedly. "How dare he seize an
English lady and insult her like this!"
"Because he is Sultan here, and he is stronger and greater than we are,"
said the girl. "Murad is a mighty prince, and all the people here are
his slaves and have to obey. You must obey him too."
"I!" cried Helen.
"Yes, you; and you will be happy, for he loves you more than all. He
used to come from Sindang here, and talk to us, and praise you, and tell
us that you would come and be our mistress here. He loves you very
much, and you will be quite happy soon."
"Happy? With him?" cried Helen, in horror.
"Yes, happy. You have won his love from us, and we here are only like
your slaves. It is you who take away our happiness, and I ought to hate
you; but I do not, for you are so young. Do you love someone else?"
"Yes--no, no!" panted Helen, excitedly.
"But you love Murad?"
"Oh, no, no!" cried Helen.
"I am sorry--I am sorry," said the girl, thoughtfully.
"Then help me--pray help me!" whispered Helen, prayerfully, and she
flung her arms round the swarthy girl, and held her to her breast.
"Help me to get away, for I do not love Murad, and you do!"
The girl started and thrust Helen away, but only to cling to her in turn
after a moment's pause.
"Yes, I think I love him," she said, softly, "though he is very cruel to
me now."
"And you hate me--very much--because--because Murad loves me?" whispered
Helen, with a shudder.
"I don't think I hate you very much," said the girl, softly.
"You need not hate me--indeed you need not!" whispered Helen, and her
voice, her very ways were changed now. The old pride was entirely gone,
and she spoke with winning, womanly sweetness, full of tenderness and
caress, as she nestled closer and closer to the girl. "You need not
hate me," she repeated, "for I detest this Murad--I loathe him! I love
some one else! Help me, then, to get back to my own people--to escape
from Murad. Help me, or I shall die!"
The girl was silent.
"Oh," moaned Helen, "she does not understand anything I say!"
"Yes," said the girl, softly, "I understand."
"Then you pretended you could not!" cried Helen, wrathfully.
"Murad ordered me to pretend that I only knew my own tongue," said the
girl. "But no, I cannot help you, and you will not die. I thought so
once; but we do not die because we are taken from our homes and people.
Murad makes us love him, and then we forget the past, for we know that
it is our fate."
Helen's heart sank as she listened to the girl's words, so full of
patient resignation, and she wondered whether she would ever be like
this. There was not a ray of hope now in her utterances, and for the
moment, in the horror of the despair that came upon her, she felt
frantic.
Thrusting her companion from her, she made a dash for the entrance,
beating and tearing at it in her madness, as she uttered a series of
loud hysteric cries. She shook the door fiercely, but her efforts were
in vain; and as she strove to reach the window her fit of excitement
seemed to pass, leaving her weak and despairing, heart-sick too, as she
felt how lowering her acts must be in the sight of her companions; for
the second girl had now sprung up, and she felt herself dragged back to
her couch, and there compelled to stay.
They both joined in scolding her angrily; and feeling her helplessness,
a strange feeling of weakness came over the prisoner, and she lay there
at last a prey to despair, as she realised now more fully how slight was
her prospect of escape--how much slighter was the chance of Neil Harley
coming to her help, however earnestly he might have searched.
Before morning, when her companions had once more sunk to sleep, in
spite of the hope that she felt of perhaps after all winning one of them
to her side, so terribly had her misery of feeling increased, that as
she pondered on her state, she found herself praying that Neil Harley
might never look upon her face again.