STARTLING NEWS.
The man who appeared in the ruined temple, in company with Haidee,
and to the astonishment of Lieutenant Harper, was no other than James
Martin, who had escaped the terrific explosion of the magazine. But for
his dress he might have been taken for a native, as his face was black
with smoke and powder.
“I am fulfilling my promise,” said Haidee, “and I have rescued this
man, your countryman. You may be of service to each other.”
“We meet under strange circumstances,” Harper said, as he held out his
hand to Martin, “but I am none the less thankful. We both stand in
imminent peril, and our lives may not be worth many hours’ purchase;
but two determined Britishers are a match for an army of these cowardly
wretches.”
“That is so,” answered Martin. “But I do not think my time has come
yet, seeing that I have escaped from twenty deaths already. I was one
of the defenders of the magazine until our lion-hearted commander
ordered it to be blown up. I managed to escape the fiery storm, and
crept into a cavernous hollow formed by a mass of fallen masonry. I
must have been there some hours, for, when I awoke from a sound sleep,
I was ravenously hungry, and, at all hazards, determined to creep out
of my hole and seek for food. It was quite dark, and I groped about
amongst the ruins until I reached the road leading to the Palace. I
walked for some distance, until a voice asked where I was going to.
The voice belonged to this woman, who had just emerged from one of the
private gates leading to the Palace grounds. At first I thought she was
an enemy, and I drew my revolver, which I had been fortunate enough to
retain, although it was unloaded. Still, an unloaded weapon, I thought,
was quite enough for a woman. ‘Who are you?’ I asked, ‘and why do you
stop my way?’ ‘I am a friend, and I wish to save you,’ she answered. I
could not be mistaken in those tones, I thought. They were too gentle,
too kind, to belong to an enemy. And so, returning my weapon to my
belt, I extended my hand to her, and said, ‘I trust myself entirely
to you; lead me where you like.’ ‘I will lead you to safety, and to a
countryman of yours, who is dear to me,’ she answered. And here I am.”
Haidee had remained silent during Martin’s speech. Her head was bent
and her arms folded. Harper crossed to where she stood, and took her
hands. The scarlet flush of morn was in the sky, and as it tinged her
beautiful face, he saw that her brows were knit, and her teeth set, as
if in anger.
“Haidee,” he said gently, “words cannot thank you for what you have
done; I am already heavily indebted to you. How can I discharge that
debt?”
“I need no thanks,” she answered. “Haidee is true to her promise; but
my heart is heavy, for he who should have come with me now is gone.”
“Do you refer to Moghul Singh?” asked Harper, in some astonishment,
and not without a slight feeling of pleasure. For, though Singh was a
double-dyed traitor, Harper did not like the thought of having to act
the part of a private assassin.
“To whom else should I refer?”
“How comes it then that he has gone?”
“He has gone by order of the King.”
“Ah! is that so? Where has he gone to?” Harper queried in alarm, for
the thought occurred to him that the man had departed to convey the
signal for a rising in some other place.
“He has gone to Cawnpore.”
“To Cawnpore!”
“Yes, and for Haidee’s sake you must follow him.”
“Nay, that cannot be,” Harper answered, with ill-concealed alarm.
“Cannot be--cannot be!” she repeated, in astonishment, and drawing
herself up until their eyes met. “Are my wrongs, then, so soon
forgotten?”
“Not so, Haidee; but you forget that I am a soldier. My first duty is
to my Queen and country, and that duty must not be neglected in my
desire to redress private wrongs. I bear for you all the feeling a man
of honour should have for an injured woman; but I cannot--dare not--go
to Cawnpore.”
“Cannot--dare not!” she echoed, in astonishment, letting his hands
fall; “and is ‘dare not’ part of a soldier’s creed? Sits there a craven
fear in your heart?”
“No,” he cried, his face burning at the suggestion. “For I have none;
but I hold that my honour should be the paramount consideration. I can
die, but I cannot sacrifice that which is dearer than life to a true
soldier--honour.”
“You wrong me,” she answered passionately. “I have made no such
request; but I have saved your life--I have given you liberty. You have
my heart; I ask but one service in return.”
“And that service I would have rendered if Moghul Singh had been here,
for he is a traitor, and an enemy to my race and country. Moreover, I
have a personal wrong to settle, because he betrayed me, subjected me
to gross indignity, and would have slain me. But for a time he escapes
retribution. I cannot follow him. The moment I stand outside of these
city walls a free man again, I must hurry back to my regiment. Failing
to do that, I should be branded as a deserter.”
“I comprehend now,” she cried, throwing herself at his feet. “I had
forgotten that, and you must forgive me. Never more can happiness be
mine. Into the dust I bow my head, for the light of my eyes will go
with you. Poor Haidee will set you free. When night closes in again
she will lead you and your countryman clear of the city; then we must
part--never, never to meet again.”
He raised her up gently, and passed his arm soothingly around her
waist, for she was terribly agitated, and shook like a wind-tossed reed.
“Do not say that we shall never meet again, Haidee. Chance may bring me
back here, and if I escape the many deaths which encompass a soldier at
a time like this, we shall meet. But even though I may not come to you,
you can at least come to me.”
“Haidee would gladly live in the light of your eyes; but if I can hold
no place in your heart, we must part for ever.”
Harper struggled with his feelings. He was on the horns of a dilemma,
and the way out of the difficulty did not seem straight. His arm was
still around Haidee. He felt her warm breath on his cheek, and heard
the throbbing of her heart. Her upturned eyes were full of an ineffable
expression of love, of trust, of hope--hope in him. How could he wither
that hope--misplace that trust? How could he leave her in the city at
the mercy of the treacherous King? As he thought of these things, he
wished that she had never opened his prison door, but had left him
to meet death alone. For cold, indeed, would have been his nature,
and stony his heart, if he had not felt the influence of her great
beauty. To look into her face was to feel sorely tempted to cast his
fortunes on the hazard of the die, and sacrifice all for this woman’s
sake. But the inward voice of conscience kept him back. Wife, country,
honour, were in the scale, and they must have weight against all other
considerations. “No,” he thought, “rather than I would be branded with
the name of traitor, I will walk boldly forth into the heart of the
city, and bare my breast to the insurgents’ bullets.”
A deep sigh from Haidee called him back to a sense of his position.
He led her to the stone seat, and said kindly--
“Why do you sigh? I know it is the language of the heart, when the
heart is sad; but, have hope; brighter days may be dawning, and in your
own lovely valleys you may yet know happiness and peace.”
She turned upon him almost fiercely, and her eyes flashed with passion.
“Do you mock me? Why do you speak to me of peace and happiness? Would
you tear the panther from its young, and tell it to pine not? Would
you torture the sightless by stories of the beautiful flowers, of the
glittering stars, of the bright sun? Would you bid the dove be gay when
its mate was killed? If you would not do these things, why bid my heart
rejoice when it is sad? why talk to me of peace, when peace is for ever
flown? But why should I speak of my wrongs? Even now, Moghul Singh is
on his way to Cawnpore, to bring back one of your own countrywomen.”
“To bring back one of my countrywomen!” cried Harper in astonishment.
“What do you mean?”
“Yesterday, there came from Meerut, a man by the name of Jewan Bukht.
He brought with him, as captive, an Englishwoman--young and beautiful.”
Harper’s nerves thrilled as the thought flashed through his brain that
this Englishwoman could be no other than Miss Meredith; for Walter
Gordon had told him what he had learnt from Flora with reference to
Jewan Bukht. He almost feared to ask the question that rose to his
lips, and not without a struggle did he do so.
“Her name--did you learn her name--Haidee?”
“No.”
“What was Bukht’s object in bringing her here?”
“He is in the pay of Nana Sahib, but is also an agent for the King. He
thought to remain here, in the Palace, where he has relations; but, on
arrival, an imperative order was waiting him, that he was instantly
to depart for Cawnpore: and he lost no time in hurrying away. When he
had gone, the King heard of Jewan’s captive, and of her beauty, and
he commanded Singh to follow, with a band of retainers, and bring
the woman back. Long before Singh can overtake him, Bukht will have
arrived in Cawnpore; and when Singh gets there, it is doubtful if he
can return, owing to the vigilance of the English.”
When Haidee had finished her revelations, Harper entertained no doubt
that Jewan Bukht’s unfortunate captive was Flora Meredith, and that
being so, the first question that suggested itself to him was, whether
he was not justified in attempting her rescue.
“Haidee!” he said, “from what you state, I have every reason to believe
that the lady carried off by Jewan is a relation of mine, and that it
is my duty to follow her.”
“Your duty to follow her?” Haidee repeated mournfully. “When I spoke
of your following the craven-hearted Moghul Singh, you replied that
it could not be, and yet this man is an enemy to your race, and has
slaughtered with exultant ferocity many of your countrymen! But now you
proclaim your readiness to throw to the wind all those scruples which
applied to him in favour of the woman! You speak in parables, and poor
Haidee in her ignorance understands you not. Only her heart tells her
this: she holds but little place in your thoughts.”
“Ah, Haidee, how you wrong me! Your reproaches are undeserved. However
great the number of my faults, ingratitude is certainly not one of
them. How can I forget the services you have rendered to me? how forget
the great wrongs that you yourself have suffered? But the laws of
our two nations are different. Society in my country is governed by
a code of rules, that no man must depart from who would not have his
reputation blasted. I hold a commission in the service of my Queen.
Would you have me sully my name by an act that I could never justify to
my superiors?”
“To what do you refer?” she asked with startling energy. “Sooner than
I would counsel you to dishonour, sooner than I would bring shame upon
you, this little weapon should be stained with my own heart’s blood!”
As she spoke she drew quickly, from the folds of her dress, a small,
glittering stiletto, and held it aloft, so that the glow of the
now rising sun made red its gleaming blade. Fearing that she meant
mischief, Martin, who had been a silent witness of the scene, darted
forward and caught her hand. She turned upon him with a look of sorrow,
and said--
“Do not fear. The women of my country hold honour as dear as those of
your own. I said the weapon should find my heart sooner than I would
bring shame on the head of your countryman, and that I will never do.”
Martin released his hold and drew back respectfully, for there was
something so touchingly sorrowful in her tone, and yet so majestic,
that both her listeners were deeply impressed.
“Yours is a noble nature,” said Harper. “It is that of a true woman’s,
and it is the differences in our nationalities only that cause us to
misunderstand each other.”
“Why should there be any misunderstanding? A Cashmere woman never
forgets a kindness, she never forgives an injury; and there is one
wrong, which, when once inflicted upon her, only the death of the
wronger can atone for. Were I back amongst my own people, those of
them in whose veins runs my family’s blood would band themselves
together to avenge me, and they would never rest until they had tracked
down and smitten the foul reptile who found me as a lily, fair and
bright, who plucked me with a ruthless hand, who befouled me, and
robbed me of treasures that have no price, and then flung me away, a
broken, friendless woman.”
“You can never say with truth,” answered Harper, “that you are
friendless while the life-blood warms my veins. By everything that I
hold dear, I pledge myself to use every endeavour to protect you, and
set you right again.”
His words were like magic to her. They touched her and sank to those
hidden springs whence flowed gentleness, love, and truth. As she stood
there before him, the very embodiment of womanly grace and beauty, it
would have been hard indeed for a stranger to have imagined that in her
breast rankled one feeling of hatred. How could he stay the invisible
electric fire which passed from him to her, and from her to him, and
drew both together, even as the needle is drawn to the magnet? Human
nature is the same now as it was when time began, as it will be until
time ends. Each of these two beings felt the influence of the other.
She was taken captive, bound with chains that galled not, and filled
with the ineffable sense of adoration for one who had suddenly risen
before her as a worldly god, from whom she would draw hope, peace,
happiness, and life, and that being so, she was willing to bow down
and yield herself as his slave. And he, deeply sensible to her great
beauty, and pitying her for her sorrows, felt like a knight of old
would have done, whose watchword was “Chivalry,”--that he must champion
her for the all-sufficient reason that she was a woman, defenceless and
alone.
Whatever scruples he might have entertained at first, he felt now that
he was justified in using every endeavour to rescue Flora Meredith, and
that he would be serving his country loyally in following Moghul Singh
with a view of bringing him to justice.
“Haidee,” he said, after a pause, “I will go to Cawnpore.”
“That is bravely spoken,” she answered, her face beaming with a look of
joy; “and you may be able to render good service there by putting your
countrymen on their guard? for I know that the Nana Sahib but waits a
fitting opportunity to give the signal for a rising.”
“But are you not wrong in supposing that the Nana Sahib is false?
He has ever proved himself a courteous and kindly gentleman to the
English, and I am impressed with the idea that at the present moment
Cawnpore is a safe refuge.”
“Dismiss all such ideas,” she answered, with energy. “Do you judge
the nature of a leopard by the beauty of his spots? I tell you, that
in all the Indian jungles there stalks not a tiger whose instincts
are more savage, or whose thirst for blood is more intense, than this
smooth-faced, smiling Nana Sahib. Ever since the return of his agent,
Azimoolah, from England, whose mission to your Queen failed, the Nana
has cherished in his heart an undying hatred for your race. Often has
he visited this city in disguise to confer with the King, and for years
they have been organising this revolt. I tell you that Nana Sahib is a
demon, capable of performing deeds that the world would shudder at.”
“This is strange and startling news, Haidee,” cried Harper, in
astonishment, “and doubly justifies my journey to Cawnpore. The
division is commanded by one of the Company’s Generals, Sir Hugh
Wheeler, and I shall consider it my duty to apprise him of the
treacherous nature of the Nana. I appeal to you, comrade,” he said,
turning to Martin, “and shall be glad of your advice.”
Martin was a man of few words. He had proved his reticence by
refraining from taking any part in the conversation between Haidee and
Harper.
“Go,” was the monosyllabic answer.
“Good. And you?”
“I will, when once outside of these walls, make my way to Meerut.”
“Excellent idea,” cried Harper, as a new thought struck him. “You
can not only report me, but render me a personal service. My wife is
stationed there; visit her, and inform her of my safety.”
“I will make that a duty. But what is your name?”
“Charles Harper, lieutenant in the Queen’s ---- regiment. And yours?”
“James Martin, late engineer in the Delhi Arsenal, now a homeless,
penniless waif, saved from an appalling storm of fire, but everything I
possessed in the world lost through the destruction of the magazine.”
“But you yourself saved for some good end, Mr. Martin,” Harper replied,
as he took his hand and shook it warmly.
“Saved so far,” joined in Haidee; “but there are terrible risks yet to
run before you are safe. When darkness has fallen I will endeavour to
guide you clear of the city--till then, farewell. I must hurry away
now, or I may be missed.”
She caught the hand of Harper and pressed it to her lips, and, bidding
Martin adieu, was soon speeding through the avenue of banyan trees
towards the Palace, and the two men were left to discuss the situation
alone.