NEW HOPES.
To follow the fortune of two of the characters who have played
conspicuous parts in this history, it is necessary to go back to the
night of the day upon which General Wheeler vacated the Cawnpore
entrenchments.
Walter Gordon and Haidee, as previously stated, sought concealment
in the ruins of an outbuilding that had been battered to pieces by
the enemy’s shot. Here they managed to escape the vigilance of the
marauders who swarmed in the defences after the English had gone. It
was true that there was nothing worth plundering, but all that was
movable in the shape of old iron and ammunition was carried off.
Soon after the departure of the defenders, Haidee and Gordon were
startled by the booming of a gun, and almost before the echo had died
away, another followed, and another, until the firing became general.
Walter’s heart almost stood still, for the sound told but too plainly
that Haidee’s fears had been realised.
As she heard the guns, she looked at her companion, and as her eyes
filled with tears, she murmured--
“Your poor country people are being slaughtered.”
“Alas! I am afraid it is so,” he answered; “may God pity them.”
After a time the firing grew desultory, but it continued for hours,
until Gordon became sick, as in his mind’s eye he pictured the awful
work that was being carried on. And as he remembered by what a strange
chance he had been prevented from accompanying the unfortunate people,
he could not help thinking that a kind destiny had preserved him, and
that happiness might come. And yet to think of happiness then seemed
almost as great a mockery to him as the mirage of a beautiful lake does
to the travellers dying of thirst in the arid desert.
How could he hope for happiness? Deadly peril yet surrounded him.
If his hiding-place should be discovered he and his companion would
immediately fall a sacrifice to the yelling demons who were prowling
about thirsting for blood. And even if he escaped from them, how could
the hundred dangers that would encompass him be avoided? No wonder that
as he reflected upon these things, he sank almost into the very apathy
of despair. Haidee noticed the look of gloom that had settled on him.
“Why are you so downcast?” she asked in a whisper.
“I cannot help being so, Haidee. Our prospects seem so hopeless. And,
after all, our preservation may only be a prolongation of our agony.”
“You should not speak like that. We live, and with life there is always
hope.”
“True; but the hope cherished in extremity is more often than not a
delusion.”
“It may be so, but it is better not to think so, for our prospects are
gloomy enough, truly so for me, for I am but a wanderer, without either
home or friends.”
“Not without friends, Haidee, while I and Lieutenant Harper live.”
At the name of Harper, she averted her face, that the speaker might not
see the emotion his words caused her.
“But the fate of your friend is uncertain,” she said, after some little
silence. “He may be dead, and if so, life has no charm for me.”
“He may be dead, as you say, and he may not. There were chances in his
favour; but even supposing that he escaped, he would lose no time in
making his way to Meerut, and there he would join his wife.”
Gordon hazarded this remark, and as he did so, he watched his
companion’s face. He could scarcely help making it, for he longed to
know if Haidee was aware that Harper was married. But he did not like
to ask the question plainly. She hung her head and sighed, but made no
answer.
Gordon was disappointed. He waited for some minutes, then felt that
he was justified in putting an end to all doubt upon the subject.
For while he would not believe that his friend had wilfully deceived
Haidee, he thought it probable that Harper might have deemed it
advisable to withhold the information, as his life had entirely
depended on this woman. And yet he was reluctant to believe that, for
it seemed to suggest that Harper in that case would have been guilty
of deceiving her, and he was not sure that even in such extremity the
end would justify the means--where the means meant the breaking of a
woman’s heart. And that woman, too, the very perfection of womanhood.
“Did you know that Lieutenant Harper was married?” he asked kindly,
watching her closely as he spoke.
But the only indication she gave that she felt the force of his
question was an almost imperceptible trembling of the lips. She turned
her eyes upon him as she answered--
“I am aware of it. Your friend is too honourable to deceive
me;”--Gordon breathed freely again;--“but though I knew this, and
know that the laws of your country allow a man to have but one wife,
there are no laws in any country which prevent a man having any number
of friends. I would have been a friend to him, to his wife, to his
friends, so that I might sometimes have looked upon his face, and have
listened to his voice. Alas! if he is dead, will not my sun have gone
down, and only the gloom of night will remain for me.”
“Let me cheer you now, Haidee, for it is you who are downcast and
despairing. Take comfort. Harper may still be living, and the future
may have boundless happiness in store for you.”
“Forgive me for this momentary weakness,” she replied. “I do not
despair. While you live I have much to live for, for you are his
friend, and if I can succeed in restoring to you your lost love, shall
I not have much cause for rejoicing?”
“You are a noble, self-sacrificing woman, Haidee, and your reward will
come.”
“I hope so; but let us turn our attention to effecting an escape from
this place. Why did you not try to secure a weapon, for you may have to
defend your life?”
“And yours,” he added quickly, for she never seemed to think of
herself.
Her words reminded him for the first time that he was totally unarmed,
and carrying their lives in their hands as they did he knew that a
weapon was indispensable. He reproached himself for having been so
forgetful as not to have secured one before the garrison had marched
out; but reproaches were useless; that he knew, and he thought it
possible the error might yet be repaired.
“Perhaps it is not yet too late to get one,” he said.
“We will try,” she answered. “I will go and search amongst the
defences; we may find something that will be of service.”
“No, you must not go. Let that job be mine.”
“We can both go,” she replied. “Four eyes are better than two, for one
pair can watch for danger, while the other searches.”
“Thoughtful again, Haidee. We will both go; but first let me
reconnoitre, to see if the coast is clear.”
Cramped and stiffened by the crouching posture he had been compelled
to sustain, he crept from his hiding-place, so as to command a view of
the ground. He could see nobody. He listened, but no sounds broke the
stillness, excepting now and again the exultant yelling of the natives,
as it was borne to his ears by a light breeze.
The firing had ceased, for the deadly work at the Ghaut was completed,
and the day was declining.
“I think we may venture forth, Haidee,” he said, after having assured
himself as far as possible that there was nobody in sight.
They both went out from the place of concealment, and, while Haidee
took up a position behind a large gun from which she could command an
extensive view, and give timely warning of the approach of any of the
enemy, Gordon commenced to search amongst the heaps of old rubbish that
were scattered around.
It was a melancholy task, for at every step there were ghastly
evidences of the fearful nature of the struggle that had been carried
on so heroically by the defenders. Here was a fragment of an exploded
shell, there an officer’s epaulette; a portion of a sword blade red
with blood, a baby’s shoe also ensanguined, a bent bayonet, a woman’s
dress, colourless and ragged, and what was more ghastly and horrible
still, there was the corpse of a little baby. It had died that morning;
its mother had been dead some days. In its dead hands it still held a
broken doll, and on its pretty dead face a smile still lingered. Gordon
picked up the ragged dress, and reverently laid it over the little
sleeper.
Continuing his search, he came upon a canvas bag. It contained some
salt beef and some biscuits. They had evidently been put up by one of
the garrison for the journey, but in the hurry of departure had been
forgotten. It was a very welcome find to Gordon, for the pangs of
hunger were making themselves painfully unpleasant both in him and his
companion. The bag had a string or lanyard attached to it, so that he
was enabled to sling it round his shoulder.
He next entered the portion of the barrack that had been occupied by
the men. Here there seemed to be nothing but ruin and rubbish. Worn-out
blankets, a few old beds, some broken cups, and various other articles
were strewn about. Amongst these he searched, and in one corner of the
room, hidden beneath a straw mattress, he found a case containing an
American revolver, and with it a leather bag filled with cartridges. He
could scarcely repress a cry of joy as he made this discovery; it was
the very weapon of all others likely to be most useful. The revolver
was in good order, and he proceeded to load it, and, this completed, he
hurried to Haidee. She was, of course, delighted with his good fortune.
As it was yet too early to leave, they went back to their hiding-place
and partook of some of the biscuits and beef.
About two hours afterwards they crept from the ruins. The night was
quite dark. Tom-toms were being beaten in all directions, and fireworks
were constantly ascending. The natives were making merry and holding
high revel in honour of the victory--that is, massacre--for this was
the only victory they had ever gained. Haidee and Gordon made their
way stealthily along, avoiding the huts and houses, and keeping in the
shadow of the trees. They reached the bridge without molestation, but
as they crossed the river they were frequently eyed with suspicion by
the natives who were lounging about, several of whom addressed Haidee,
but she replying in their language, and saying that her companion was
dumb, the Delhi road was reached, and so far they were safe.