THE CARAVAN ENTERS THE CITY--REGINALD MEETS THE BYRAGHEE--SENDS A
MESSAGE TO BURNETT--THE RAJAH AND REGINALD FIND THE GUARDS MURDERED AT
THE PALACE, AND NUNA CARRIED OFF--REGINALD PRESERVES THE LIFE OF A
WOUNDED SEPOY--HE AND THE RAJAH TAKE REFUGE IN THE HOUSE OF A CHRISTIAN
NATIVE--ESCAPE FROM THE CITY--PURSUED--VICTORY--THE RAJAH ENTERS THE
CITY IN TRIUMPH--NO TIDINGS OF NUNA--REGINALD MAKES AN IMPORTANT
DISCOVERY.
Immediately on the appearance of the first streaks of daylight in the
sky, the merchant, Hurdeo Buksh, aroused the caravan, which, as soon as
the camels were loaded, moved forward to the gate of the city. As he
was well known, he had no difficulty in gaining admittance, and they
were soon threading the narrow lanes which led to the chief bazaar. The
rajah, seated on a camel, with a hood over his head which completely
concealed his features, rode next to the merchant; while Reginald,
assuming a jaunty air, and armed with a spear and shield, marched by his
side. They soon reached the bazaar, where they saw a crowd assembled,
reading a huge placard announcing that Mukund Bhim, in consequence of
the death of the old rajah, had assumed the reins of government, and
ordering all the people, under pain of death and confiscation of their
property, to obey his edicts. The crowd impeding the progress of the
caravan, the rajah as well as Reginald had time to read the whole of the
placard, which also went on to announce the various persons who had been
appointed to offices under the new rajah. Among others appeared that of
Khan Cochut, as also of several of the chiefs who had deserted Meer Ali
Singh among the mountains. "The villains," muttered the rajah, "I will
punish their treachery; as for that rascally Cochut, his head shall part
company from his body before many days are over."
But people continued eagerly to press forward to read the placard,--
traders in long coats and turbans, sowars with shields and spears, women
and children,--people in every costume, and people in no costume at all
except the dirty cloths around their loins or over their shoulders, and
the ever-present turban on their heads. Reginald, knowing the agitation
into which the announcement would throw the rajah, was afraid that he
would betray himself, so, swaggering on according to the character he
had assumed, he forced the crowd to make way for the caravan; which at
length got clear, and was able to proceed onward to the house which the
merchant was wont to occupy during his stay in Allahapoor.
So far the adventure had been successful, and the rajah took up his
lodgings in a room where he was not likely to be discovered. The
difficulty, however, was to gain information. The next morning Hurdeo
Buksh was obliged to appear in public to make arrangements for the sale
of his goods, and was afraid of exciting suspicion should he be seen
visiting the rajah's hiding-place. Reginald was willing enough to try
and pick up information, but the rajah charged him on no account to do
so: his manners and mode of speaking would be sure to betray him. The
rajah had ordered his own dress to be brought to him, and he now put it
on, telling Reginald that he had come to the resolution of visiting his
palace as soon as darkness would allow of his passing through the
streets unobserved, and appealing to the loyalty of his guards,--who
would, he supposed, be found at their old quarters, the usurper, Mukund
Bhim, he had learned from the byraghee, still residing at his own
palace.
Reginald thought the attempt a hazardous one, but yet, as it was the
only scheme likely to succeed, he consented. After the rajah had told
him this, he was sauntering about in the gateway of the house, imitating
the manners of a sowar, when he caught sight of the mendicant slowly
approaching, asking alms of all he met. The man's little bleared eyes
twinkled as he came up to Reginald, whom he appeared at once to
recognise.
"You can be trusted, I see," said Reginald. "You will receive a
handsome reward if you faithfully perform the service I require of you."
"Say what it is, sahib, and you shall be obeyed," responded the
byraghee.
"To hasten forthwith to the spot where our friends lie concealed, and to
direct them, as soon as the shades of evening appear, to push forward at
hot speed towards the northern gate, which they may reach before they
are challenged. Should they succeed in passing through, they are to
gallop on to the palace, where they will find the rajah and such friends
as he may be able to rally round him. If they fail in the attempt, they
are to retire till they hear from his highness or me." Reginald, as he
spoke, put a piece of money into the mendicant's hand, to deceive any
who might have observed them speaking together.
"You shall be obeyed, sahib," said the mendicant, moving on, and
continuing as before to beg of all he met. Instead of going in the
direction he had been following, however, he contrived to turn round;
and Reginald saw him making his way in the direction of the northern
gate, as if bent on carrying out the orders he had received.
"So far our scheme prospers," thought Reginald; "but I wish that I had
the means of ascertaining where the rajah's grand-daughter has taken
refuge. Should the traitor Mukund Bhim have got her into his power, he
would have as little scruple in putting her to death as he would in
killing any of the rajah's sons. Poor young creature! I don't like to
increase the old man's anxieties by alluding to her, but he must tremble
at the thought of what may have become of her."
Notwithstanding the rajah's caution to Reginald, he could scarcely
refrain from going out and mixing with the crowd, to obtain information
of what was going on. Prudence, however, restrained him. He walked up
and down impatiently at his post, in the hope of seeing some one among
them who had frequented the court, and who he thought might be trusted;
but of the thousands who continued to hurry by he did not recognise a
single person. He forgot that all the time he was running a great risk
of being recognised himself; for although he had done his utmost, aided
by the worthy merchant, to change his appearance, he might easily have
been detected by any one who had before known him.
Thus the hours passed slowly away, and at length the shades of evening
began to steal over the city. On going up into the rajah's room,
Reginald found him habited in his usual costume, with a large robe ready
to throw over his shoulders, which, with the aid of the darkness of
night, would conceal his figure from those he might meet. His scimitar
was by his side, and a brace of pistols in his belt.
"The time for action has arrived," he said in a firm voice. "We will go
forth, my young friend, and succeed, or perish in the attempt. Our
first care, as soon as we have gathered my faithful guards about us,
must be to secure the safety of my grandchild, Nuna; and we may then,
should we be attacked, defend the palace till the arrival of your
English friend with my brave horsemen. Come, we will set out. I do not
fear discovery, as no one will suppose that I am in the city; and people
will take me for a foreign merchant on his way to transact business with
some khan or other wealthy person."
"Should any one venture to interfere with you, I shall be ready to
sacrifice my life in your defence," answered Reginald.
"I fully confide in you, my brave young friend," exclaimed the rajah;
"and I would rather have you by my side than a hundred of my native
sowars."
They then set out, Reginald having ascertained that no one was near. As
they left the gates of the house the rajah walked rapidly along,
concealing his face in his robe, while Reginald swaggered on by his side
with a martial strut assumed generally by the sowars. A large number of
people were still abroad; and as they passed on they caught some of the
expressions which were being uttered. It was very evident that a
rebellion had taken place, and that the star of Mukund Bhim was in the
ascendency.
At length, as they approached the palace, the crowd grew thinner. When
they got close to it no one was seen standing about the gates,--the
usual guards wore not there,--nor were they challenged as they entered.
The silence which reigned everywhere was ominous. After passing across
the outer courtyard, the rajah was about to enter the vestibule of the
hall of audience, when, drawing aside a curtain which hung across it, he
started back with an exclamation of horror and dismay. The whole
passage, as well as the flight of steps leading to the upper storey, was
strewn with corpses.
"Alas, alas! My faithful guards! On your courage I depended to regain
my power!" exclaimed the rajah. "You have died bravely fighting at your
posts." Ali Singh stood for some seconds contemplating the scene with a
look of despair. "On whom have I now to depend!" he exclaimed; "and my
child, what can have become of her!"
"Your highness has your faithful troopers and many friends who are ready
to fight for you," said Reginald, advancing. "Some of your guard may be
still alive, and concealed in the palace; and they may be able to inform
us what has become of your grand-daughter."
Reginald's words seemed to restore the rajah's courage. His first care
was to examine the bodies which filled the passage, in the hope that
some might be found breathing; but in all life was extinct Reginald
urged the rajah to hurry forward, in case the rebels should return
before they had time to search the palace. They walked on through the
deserted corridors and passages, looking into the rooms as they passed,
but not a living being was to be seen. At length, as they were passing
a room the door of which was partly ajar, a groan reached Reginald's
ear; and calling to the rajah, who was going on, he entered. By the
light of the pale moon which streamed through a window, he discovered in
the further corner the form of a sepoy stretched on a mat. The blood
which had flowed from several wounds on his head and body had trickled
over the ground. The man had been apparently endeavouring to stanch
them, but had fainted before he had done so effectually. Reginald knelt
down by his side, and did his best, by means of a handkerchief which he
tore into bandages, to stop the further flow of blood. In a short time
the man returned to consciousness; and as his eye fell on the rajah his
countenance brightened up.
"Have the rebels been defeated?" he exclaimed. "I thought all was
lost."
"We wish to learn from you what has happened," said Reginald. "Numbers
of your comrades lie dead at the entrance, and the palace appears to be
deserted. We know no more."
"All that I can tell you is that we were attacked last night by Mukund
Bhim with a large band of followers; we fought desperately to defend our
post, till numbers fell killed or wounded, when the rest were carried
off as prisoners. I then, in spite of my wounds, managed to escape, the
rebels having left me for dead. They had begun to pillage the palace,
when they were summoned away to defeat an attempt of the loyal
inhabitants to keep possession of the city till the return of the rajah,
the report of whose death they refused to credit."
"And can you give me no account of my child, the Ranee Nuna?" asked the
rajah. "Have the rebels carried her off, or is she still in the
palace?"
"I know not, O Rajah," answered the wounded man. "While I lay here,
expecting every instant to be put to death, I heard the tramp of feet
through the passages, and cries and shrieks from female voices."
"The villainous traitors have deprived me, then, of my child," exclaimed
the rajah. "Come, my friend, we must ascertain the worst," he said,
addressing Reginald. "You must not waste any more time on this man: if
it is his fate to live, he will live; if not, he will have the
satisfaction of dying in my cause."
Reginald, although as anxious as the rajah to ascertain what had
happened, was unwilling to leave the brave sepoy, who was still in much
need of aid; but the rajah's impatience would brook no delay, so telling
the poor man that he would return as soon as possible, Reginald followed
the rajah, who was hurrying from the room.
They made their way towards the women's apartments, observing on either
side signs of the fearful struggle which had taken place, though it was
still evident that the rajah's own guard had remained faithful. The
doors of the women's apartments were open--those sacred chambers into
which, hitherto, no man had dared to enter. Female ornaments and
dresses were strewn on the ground, articles of all sorts were broken,
and the marks of violence were visible even on the walls. The worst
anticipations of the rajah were realised: Nuna had undoubtedly been
carried off by the rebels. Reginald had difficulty in quieting the old
man's agitation. He seemed incapable of deciding what course to pursue.
Reginald himself felt deeply grieved at the loss of the young girl,
whose possession, he foresaw, would add greatly to the power of the
rebels, as, even should they be ultimately defeated, it would enable
them to treat on favourable terms with the rajah; and he endeavoured in
vain to tranquillise the mind of the old man, by reminding him that it
would be to the interest of Mukund Bhim to behave courteously to her.
As it would be dangerous to remain long in the palace, to which the
rebels might at any moment return, Reginald endeavoured to persuade the
rajah to go back to the merchant's house, where he might remain till the
arrival of their friends, should the mendicant have succeeded in
reaching them, and should they be able to enter the city. No other
course seemed practicable, unless, abandoning all effort to recover his
power, the rajah should resume his disguise and attempt to make his
escape from the city. Reginald suggested this course, and offered to
protect him with his life; the rajah, however, would not hear of it.
Darkness had now set in, and, wrapped in his mantle, the rajah could
walk abroad without hazard of being recognised. They first, however,
made a circuit of the whole palace; but not a human being was found
alive. Before quitting it altogether, Reginald hurried back to the
wounded sepoy, whom he was unwilling to leave to perish, as he
undoubtedly would if deserted. The man had somewhat recovered his
strength, and thought that, with Reginald's assistance, he might be able
to walk a short distance.
"You need not do that," said Reginald; "your weight is not great, and I
will carry you on my shoulders."
"No, no, sahib," said the sepoy, who had from the first recognised
Reginald in spite of his disguise; "should we encounter any of the
rajah's enemies, they would kill you as well as me; but if you will take
me to the stables--should the rebels not have carried off the horses, I
might contrive to sit one, and either make my escape out of the city, or
reach the house of some friends near this who will give me shelter."
"I will gladly carry you to the stables," said Reginald; and it at once
occurred to him that if he and the rajah could obtain steeds for
themselves they might make a dash through the gates, or, should their
friends arrive, they would be able to join them and encounter Mukund
Bhim and his followers, who were certain not to be far off. Taking the
wounded man up on his shoulder, therefore, he staggered with him along
the passages, and down the steps in the rear of the palace which led to
the courtyard, in the further part of which the stables were situated.
The rajah went ahead with his sword drawn, thinking it probable that
plunderers might be lurking about; but no one was met with. The whole
palace, for some unaccountable reason, was entirely deserted. The sepoy
had expressed a hope that the horses had been left in the stables, or
Reginald would not have expected to find any there. It seemed more
probable that the rebels would have carried them off. Should such be
found to be the case, he scarcely knew what he should do with the
wounded sepoy. It was with no little difficulty that he managed to
convey him even the comparatively short distance he had gone, and he
felt that it would be impossible to carry him beyond the palace to the
house of the friends he spoke of; he should therefore be compelled to
leave him in the stables, where he might die of starvation, unless
discovered by any compassionate person who could bring him food.
The man seemed to divine his thoughts. "Care not for me, sahib," he
whispered in a low voice, that the rajah might not hear. "The One, I
trust, whom you worship, will preserve me. Inquire for the house of
Dhunna Singh; tell him where you have left Wuzeer Singh, and he will
find the means of coming to my assistance. You may trust him, for he is
one who worships the true God, and, if you require aid, will risk his
life in your service."
Reginald, greatly surprised at the way in which the man spoke, for he
had supposed him to be an ordinary sepoy, promised to follow his
directions. But on reaching the stables they found that, though most of
the horses had been carried off, four or five had been left in the
further wing of the building. Their harness was hung up on the walls,
and the rajah and Reginald, well accustomed to the task, quickly saddled
and bridled three of the best.
"You seem to take great interest in my follower," said the rajah,
observing the assistance Reginald was affording the wounded man.
"He has fought bravely for your highness, and is wounded and suffering,"
answered Reginald. "I am simply doing my duty."
"May you be rewarded for your charity," answered the rajah. "And now
let us mount and sally forth into the streets. The gates will be closed
ere long, and should my followers not have entered the city, my only
safe course will be to try and join them, and wait for a favourable
opportunity of regaining what I have lost."
Reginald having assisted the rajah to mount, next helped Wuzeer Singh to
get on horseback, though it was with difficulty the poor man could keep
his seat; he himself then vaulted into the saddle, and the rajah, with
the mantle which had before served to disguise him over his head, rode
forth from the palace, followed closely by Reginald and the sepoy. The
darkness which now reigned over the city favoured their proceedings. At
the same time, it was but too likely that the gates would be closed; and
if so, their friends would be prevented from entering. Already the
streets were deserted, and no one appeared from whom, directly or
indirectly, they could obtain information. The more peaceable
inhabitants had, it was clear, wisely retired to their houses; while the
fighting-men and rabble were evidently collected in a distant part of
the city, bent on some mischief or other.
Reginald kept close alongside Wuzeer Singh, to assist him in sitting his
horse, for so great was his weakness that every moment it appeared that
he would fall off.
The soldier expressed his thankfulness. "If the sahib will but take my
advice," he added, "he will persuade the rajah to come to the house of
Dhunna Singh, who will protect him at all hazards. He has a stable in
which the horses can be put up, and an upper room where his highness can
remain concealed without risk of discovery when day returns. Dhunna
Singh may be able also to inform him of what has happened, and he can
act accordingly."
Reginald thought the advice so good that he at once suggested the plan
to the rajah, who agreed to it after some hesitation. They at once,
therefore, turned their horses along a street Wuzeer Singh pointed out.
The few people who passed them probably took the rajah to be some
merchant returning home attended by his guards, and did not stop to
examine them closely. In a short time they arrived before the gates of
a house of the style occupied by the more wealthy class of citizens.
Here Reginald, throwing himself from his horse, assisted Wuzeer Singh to
reach the small loophole, through which he could communicate with those
within. After a few words had been exchanged, the gates were opened and
the party entered. A staid-looking citizen, with several younger men,
received them; and though they treated the rajah with marked respect,
they did not otherwise show that they knew who he was. The old man only
addressed him as sahib, and begged leave to show the way into the
interior of the house; and while two of the younger men gently lifted up
Wuzeer Singh and carried him indoors, the rest led off the horses to the
stable. The rajah was at once conducted to the upper room Wuzeer Singh
had spoken of, where his host paid him every possible attention. Wuzeer
Singh, meantime, was gently cared for; and an ample repast was placed
before Reginald. Their host, it appeared, was a Hindoo, who, with all
his family, had been converted to Christianity; and, desirous of
following the precepts of his faith, he was anxious to afford assistance
to those in distress. He showed by his manner that he well knew who the
rajah was; and he must have been aware of the great risk he ran in
affording him shelter, should his concealment be discovered by Mukund
Bhim or any of his party. Since the commencement of the disturbances he
and his sons had wisely kept to the house, and so he could only surmise,
from the reports brought by two or three people who had visited at his
house, what was taking place. He believed, he said, that another khan
of influence residing on the other side of the city had risen, either
with the intention of supporting the rajah or of endeavouring to obtain
the power for himself. Mukund Bhim having marched with all his forces
to attack him, a desperate fight had taken place. The khan had been
defeated, and Mukund Bhim's followers, with the rabble of the city, had
for some hours been engaged in plundering his house and those of his
relatives,--he and all of them having been put to death. Reginald's
anxiety regarding Nuna was in no way relieved, as his host could not
tell what had become of her. Several elephants carrying closed howdahs,
accompanied by a strong party of armed men, had been seen leaving the
southern gate of the city; but where they had gone, he had been unable
to learn.
The first part of the night had passed quietly away, and the old rajah,
after the fatigue and excitement he had gone through, slept soundly.
Before morning, however, he awoke; and calling to Reginald, who occupied
a small room adjoining his, he expressed his wish that when it was
daylight he would go out and ascertain what was taking place.
As soon as their host was on foot, Reginald told him of the rajah's
wish.
"I will send one of my sons instead," he answered. "He will run no
risk; while you, notwithstanding your disguise, may be easily
discovered."
The rajah consented; but some time passing by, and the young man not
returning, he grew impatient, and desired that his horse might be
prepared.
"Your highness will not surely venture to ride forth during daylight,"
said Reginald. "You would certainly be recognised; and though many
citizens might rally round you, Mukund Bhim's party by this time must be
sufficiently strong to cut them to pieces, and you would fall into the
hands of the rebels."
"I wish to be in readiness to join our friends, who, if they come at
all, will ere long be within the city walls; and I even now fancy that I
can hear the tramp of their horses' hoofs," was the answer. "Come, my
friend, let us be prepared to sally forth."
Reginald, though he believed that the rajah was mistaken, nevertheless
obeyed; and having mounted, they sat in the courtyard ready to sally
forth at a moment's notice.
They had not long to wait before their host's son returned with the
announcement that Mukund Bhim, with a large force, was advancing towards
that part of the city, breaking open the houses, and capturing all those
who were suspected of being favourable to the rajah. "There is still
time to escape by the northern gate; and though there may be great risk
of falling into the hands of the rebels, it may be the safest course to
pursue," he observed.
Reginald was of the same opinion, and urged the rajah to adopt it. By
the advice of their host, the rajah wound a common turban round his
head, the ends of which hung down so as to conceal his features; and as
there was not a moment to be lost, the gates were thrown open, and Ali
Singh, followed by Reginald, dashed out and made his way through some
narrow lanes, now entirely deserted, towards the northern gate. As they
came in sight of it they saw a number of people--some on horseback, and
others on camels or on foot--hastening out to escape from the
barbarities of Mukund Bhim and his fierce soldiery. They made their way
amid the frightened multitude, and had already got outside the walls
when they heard loud shouts raised behind them, when Reginald, looking
back, saw a party of horsemen issuing from the gate, and trampling under
foot or cutting down all who impeded their progress. He at once
suspected that their flight had by some means or other been discovered,
and that the horsemen were in pursuit of them.
"We must ride for our lives," he exclaimed, telling the rajah what he
had seen.
Fortunately the road in front was tolerably open, and putting their
horses into a gallop they dashed forward. Mukund Bhim's horsemen had by
this time discovered them, and now came on in hot pursuit. Their
chances of escape appeared small indeed. They were well mounted,
however, and their good steeds behaved faithfully, straining every
muscle as if aware of the importance of exerting themselves. Their
pursuers, fully aware of the prize in view, galloped on even faster, and
were evidently gaining on them,--firing as they did so, regardless of
those they might kill or wound. More than once Reginald turned his
head, and at length saw a further party of horsemen and numerous
elephants issuing from the gate. His own horse kept up well, but the
rajah's at length stumbled and nearly came to the ground; and Reginald
feared that in a few minutes more they would be overtaken by their
merciless foes. Still, there was a possibility of escaping, if they
could gain the wood which they were now fast approaching. Just as they
reached a turn of the road, however, they saw a large party of horsemen
galloping towards them; and all hope of escape was cut off.
"We will sell our lives dearly," said the rajah. "Let us turn round and
face our pursuers."
"No, no; gallop on," cried Reginald. "See! They are our friends. They
have arrived at a happy moment, and the victory will be ours."
Throwing off his cloak, the rajah waved his sword, and was at once
recognised by his troopers, at the head of whom rode Captain Burnett.
In another instant the rajah and Reginald, wheeling round their horses,
joined their ranks, and, without pulling rein, dashed with headlong
speed at the rebels. The first charge was terrific, horses and riders
on both sides going down; but Burnett's followers, having only just
emerged from the wood, were fresh, while their opponents, panting from
their rapid gallop, were taken at a disadvantage. The old rajah fought
fiercely, few daring to encounter his sharp scimitar. Onward he and his
party fought their way, till nearly every one of the advance-guard of
the foe were cut to pieces or had galloped off on either side. At
length Reginald caught sight of Mukund Bhim, the leader of the rebels,
who, avoiding the rajah, rode forward to meet him. Reginald, warding
off a blow aimed at his head, thrust his sword into the traitor's breast
and bore him to the ground. The rebels, seeing their leader slain, made
but a faint resistance. The mahouts turned their elephants off on
either side, the huge animals rushing across the country; and the
foot-soldiers fled back into the city, where many were cut down, others
escaping in the track of the elephants. The victory was complete; and
the rajah, at the head of his horsemen, re-entered the city in triumph.
The rajah's power was speedily re-established, those who might have been
inclined to side with the rebel Mukund Bhim at once returning to their
allegiance, and being the loudest in proclaiming their satisfaction at
the rajah's success. His first proceeding was to institute inquiries
for his grand-daughter, the young Ranee Nuna, who had so mysteriously
disappeared; but no one could give him any information. Emissaries were
despatched in all directions to endeavour to discover where she had been
concealed; and the rajah proved the love he bore her by the anxiety he
exhibited. Several of his chief officers and many other persons had
disappeared; and as they did not make their appearance, it was naturally
supposed that they had either been put to death by Mukund Bhim, or,
through having joined him, were afraid of returning. Among the missing
ones was Khan Cochut. A search was made for him high and low throughout
the palace, but his dead body was not to be found, nor were there any
traces of him to be discovered. The rooms he usually occupied had been
stripped of everything of value, and Reginald, who had no great
confidence in the ex-barber, could not help suspecting that he had made
his escape from the city with all the wealth he could collect, and would
probably next be heard of at Calcutta.
The rajah had vowed to take vengeance on all who had sided with the
rebels, and his officers were now visiting every part of the city in
search of suspected persons. Many hundreds were captured, and the
streets of the city, according to Indian custom, would soon have been
running with blood, had not Reginald and Burnett entreated the rajah to
show clemency towards his foes. They pointed out to him that it was far
more noble to save life than to take it; that the people were his
subjects, whom he was bound to protect; and that the larger number had
joined Mukund Bhim under the idea that he himself was dead. As he
acknowledged that Reginald had been the means of saving his life, and
that Burnett had also rendered him essential service, he was willing to
listen to their counsel,--though nothing would induce him to spare the
lives of the treacherous chiefs, several of whom were captured, and
compelled to pay the penalty of their crimes with their heads.
Tranquillity was now apparently perfectly restored in the city; but it
was reported that in the country large parties of the rebels were still
in arms, wandering about in various directions, and plundering the
defenceless. A near relative of Mukund Bhim was said to be at their
head, but his whereabouts could not be discovered. Whether or not all
the reports were true, they proved the disorganised state of the
country, and made Reginald and Burnett wish heartily for the arrival of
the expected resident and the British troops.
Still no information had been received regarding the Ranee Nuna, and the
rajah continued plunged in the greatest grief and anxiety about her.
Both Burnett and Reginald shared his feelings, and offered to set off in
search of her. Burnett was most anxious to go. He had been struck by
her beauty and captivated by her manner, so unlike that of Oriental
females, and all the romance of his ardent nature had been aroused,
though he might possibly not have been actually in love with her. They
at length offered to go in company, but of this the rajah would not
hear. "I must have one of you remain with me, as I need your counsel
and assistance, seeing I have no friend in whom I can trust," he
answered; "but if tidings do not arrive to-morrow, I will give
permission to one or the other to set out. I am grateful to you both,
but the one I appoint must abide by my decision."
Reginald and Burnett of course expressed themselves ready to obey the
rajah, and they were too firm friends to feel jealous of each other.
Reginald had not forgotten the wounded sepoy whose life he had been the
means of saving, and the first time he could leave the palace he made
his way to the house of Dhunna Singh, who had afforded him shelter. He
received a warm welcome from the good man; and he was glad to find that
Wuzeer Singh was already in a fair way of recovery from the wounds he
had received. The man was most grateful to him for saving his life.
"May the God we both worship preserve you, sahib," he said; "and
thankful shall I be, if I can ever have the means of showing my
gratitude to you."
Reginald had a good deal of conversation with him, and learned that he
had been converted to Christianity by Protestant missionaries at some
place where he had been stationed. He had, however, obtained his
discharge, and had taken service with the rajah, for the sake of being
near his Christian friend Dhunna Singh. He was evidently a most
intelligent man, and all his spare moments were devoted to the study of
the Scriptures and such other works as he could obtain to enlarge his
mind. His great delight was to join his friends where, with closed
doors, they could worship God in freedom. They none of them neglected
the duty of endeavouring to spread the gospel among their countrymen,
though they did so with the necessary caution, and had hitherto escaped
the persecution to which they would have been subjected had their object
been discovered by the priests.
Reginald promised to pay them another visit; and he confessed to Burnett
that he had learned many important truths from these men, whom, had he
met casually, he should have looked upon as ignorant heathens. He was
also much struck by their firm confidence in the goodness and love of
God to fallen man, and the desire of that Great Being to reconcile
sinners to himself by the all-sufficient and complete atonement wrought
out by his well-beloved Son on Calvary.
"Ah, sahib," exclaimed Wuzeer Singh, "how merciful God is to demand from
us a simple, loving faith alone as the condition on which we are saved.
Were he to insist on our good works and pure and holy lives, who could
ever hope to merit heaven? For sinners we were, and sinners we remain;
but, praised be his name, `the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all
sin.'"
Such was the faith of these men, and it supported them, isolated as they
were in the midst of a heathen population, who would have torn them to
pieces had they suspected the creed they held.
On Reginald's return to the palace, he found the rajah alone. He had
anxiously wished for an opportunity of renewing the conversation so
suddenly broken off, and of obtaining information regarding his father's
property, and the important documents which he supposed the rajah had in
his possession. He again tried to get him to lead to the subject; but
finding this in vain, he remarked, "Your highness appeared anxious some
time ago to know what had become of the son of the Englishman who was
once in your service, and who had the happiness of saving your life in
battle."
"You speak of Rinaldo Khan," said the rajah, fixing his eye on Reginald.
"That was the name by which my father was known," was the answer; "for I
am the boy whose fate you desired to learn."
"You the son of Rinaldo Khan!" exclaimed the rajah. "Come nearer, my
son, and let me see your features. Yes, yes, I believe you; these are
the lineaments of my beloved daughter. Did your father ever tell you
who was your mother?"
"I know only that she was a native lady of high rank, and that it cost
my father much pain to be compelled to leave her."
"Did he tell you that you were his only child?" inquired the rajah,
still keeping his gaze fixed on Reginald's countenance. "But why do I
ask? Your sister Nuna was born after he, as you say, was compelled to
fly from the country in order to save his life. The English in those
days had not the power they now possess, or he would have quickly
returned and taken vengeance on the traitors who deprived me of his
services; for a truer and a better friend I have never possessed."
"I feel almost overwhelmed at what your highness has told me," exclaimed
Reginald. "Am I then your daughter's son, and the brother of the Ranee
Nuna?"
"You are truly, I believe, my grandson. My heart felt drawn towards you
from the first; and as I am now childless, I would desire to place you
in the position your father would have enjoyed had he remained with me."
Reginald could scarcely speak for astonishment. He had expected to gain
important information from the rajah, but what he now heard was of a
totally different character to that which he was seeking. Though his
mother was an Oriental, his heart was English, and he had no wish to
spend his days in India, however high the rank he might enjoy.
The extraordinary information he had received made him still more
anxious to recover Nuna, who, if she was really his sister, had a right
to claim all the assistance he could afford her; and he at once,
therefore, begged the rajah to allow him to set forth on his expedition
without delay. Before going, however, it was of the greatest importance
to know what had become of the documents which the rajah was supposed to
possess.
He had learned from his father that his mother was a Christian, but he
found a difficulty in reconciling this with the communication the rajah
had just made him. He was afraid, however, of putting the question
abruptly. "Your highness tells me that my mother was your daughter," he
said at length. "I have long earnestly wished to know more about her
than my father told me. I was young when he died, and though his words
were fixed on my memory, I might not probably have comprehended the
meaning of all he said."
"My daughter was one of those beings who are seldom found on earth,"
answered the rajah; "and so was she who gave her birth. Her mother was
fair as the houris in Paradise; the daughter of an English officer sent
here on a mission by that great man Lord Clive. Her parents died, and
she was left under the protection of my father. I saw and loved her,
and she consented to become my wife; but nothing would induce her to
change the faith she held. I respected her opinions, the more so as
they made her that which I esteem most excellent; and she taught me to
regard women in a very different light to that in which I had formerly
held them. Her only child she brought up in the same faith; and when
that child--your mother--grew to womanhood, she was married to your
father, according to the rites of your religion, by an English minister,
who was travelling through the country."
"That fact my father impressed on me; and, as far as my interests are
concerned, much depends on it," said Reginald, who had been listening
eagerly to the account the rajah had been giving him. "There were
certain papers signed on the occasion, which, with other documents, my
father left behind in the country, and which to me are of the greatest
importance. Has your highness possession of them, or can you inform me
where they are to be found?"
"Papers! Documents! Of what do you speak? I remember that some time
back Khan Cochut, in whom I then placed unlimited confidence, at my
order examined into the state of my treasures, and found some papers
which I was unable to decipher. He informed me that they were of no
value; but I directed him to allow them to remain in the casket in which
they were placed. Some time afterwards, on visiting my treasury with
the intention of placing the documents in the hands of some person
understanding English, to be certain that Khan Cochut had not deceived
me, I found that the casket had disappeared. Cochut protested that he
knew nothing about the casket, and pretended to make diligent search
after it."
"If they were the papers which my father directed me to recover, they
are, as I before told your highness, of the very greatest consequence,
and I entreat you to assist me in recovering them."
While Reginald was engaged in this exciting conversation with his
supposed grandfather, an attendant entered the room, announcing that an
officer who had just arrived, bringing important information, requested
an audience immediately; and Reginald was compelled to wait till he
could again speak in private to the rajah.