“HE WILL MARRY YOU.”
One week had now passed and Enola had almost entirely recovered. Her
fever had lasted only a day or two and with Mr. Bruce’s prescriptions
and treatment, and Mrs. Graham’s and Nellie’s gentle care she mended
rapidly. Her wounds, too, had healed so quickly, the bandages had been
discontinued and altogether Enola was nearly in as good a condition as
before her fateful ride.
“Why, Enola,” said Mr. Graham, “you look as bright and happy as ever,
this beautiful morning, and I prescribe a good long walk for you in the
garden.”
“And I feel quite as well as usual, Uncle,” answered Enola. “My arms and
limbs are a little stiff yet, but outside of that I am all right and
will gladly accept your invitation. Ah, the morning is beautiful,
glorious,” she continued, as they stepped to the terrace. “Uncle, have
you noticed that the sun seems to be brighter, the air purer, that all
verdure is greener, that the waters of the lake and river bluer, that
the birds’ notes clearer and their plumage gayer, that all nature seems
brighter and happier here than in the civilized world?”
“Ah, that is quite a speech, Enola,” answered Mr. Graham, smiling; “but
seriously, I have noticed all this many times, and I have long ago
ceased wondering at the happiness and contentment of the people, for
they could hardly be aught else with such environments.”
“Yes, they are truly a happy lot,” said Enola, “yet how human. For
centuries, more than likely, their ancestors had never known such words
as fear and superstition and they themselves could hardly have defined
the meaning of these words, yet one little word set them wondering and
just a word more and a little act on the part of their King made them
slaves to superstitious fears.”
“Yes, that is so,” said Mr. Graham, “I am very much afraid we are all
alike after all.”
“No, not all alike,” said Enola, “for we, with our advanced notions on
such matters could never believe as did these people for a short time.”
“May be not,” said Mr. Graham, “but we must take into consideration that
these people have always been led to believe that they were the only
people on earth, and have never been told of other people on other
planets, so our advent among them was a great surprise in the first
place and they looked on us with awe, mingled with fear; and Onrai’s
strange actions and the storm simply ‘capped the climax.’”
“We had rather a narrow escape, don’t you think?” asked Enola.
“Yes,” answered Mr. Graham, “too narrow for comfort; but I think we
stand on a better footing with these people since, and that for this
reason the occurrence should be looked upon as being a decidedly lucky
one for us.”
“That is very true,” said Enola, “but look, Gip has seen us and is
coming to meet us.”
Across the lawn strode the great monstrous beast, his limp nearly gone,
but his head still bandaged. This great elephant stood fully twenty feet
high and as he stalked under the trees his back touched the lower
boughs. He had been given the freedom of the garden from the first night
of his removal from the scene of the accident to the villa, and he had
taken up his position beneath the arch which opened into Enola’s
apartment, and here he had remained, only going to his stall for a few
moments’ rest; he knowing that if he lay down beneath the window, he
could not again rise. Such love for a mistress had never been displayed
before, according to Onrai, and his people could not understand it; but
it was clear enough to them that the elephant was attached to Enola, and
this was quite enough to let him have his own way.
Quickly he passed over the smooth lawn until he had reached them, when
he affectionately stuck his great trunk into Enola’s face. Perhaps this
was not a very pleasant way of having him show his love, but it was the
only way he knew of, and Enola seemed to enjoy it.
“Good Gip,” she said, “and could you not see me in my room? I saw you
poke your big head in the arch and pull it out again and look about. You
are a dear, good fellow, Gip, and you can come right along and walk with
us.”
And he did. Back and forth on the lawn the three walked, the great
elephant keeping close to Enola’s side, occasionally thrusting his trunk
over her shoulder, giving out that little squeak, as if to let her know
that he was still with her. And his great moving hulk shook the ground
at every step, making Mr. Graham look around now and then with
apprehension. But Gip paid no attention to him, simply looking at Enola
and trying to make her look at him.
The day before Onrai had gone to the city to attend to any matters which
might need his attention. He was to return to-day, and on the morrow
they were again going to take up the journey to the field of diamonds,
which had been so unexpectedly interrupted by the storm. Mr. Graham and
Enola had now walked to the edge of the garden, and were standing
looking down the beautiful roadway, when far away, where the perspective
came to a point, could be seen a small black spot. At first it looked
like a pedestrian, then like a zebra, and finally the form of zebra and
rider were made out. It was Onrai returning, and as impatient as on the
night when the message had reached him of Enola’s serious illness. Gip
pricked up his ears, and looking down the road, saw the rider
approaching; then kneeling, he placed his trunk for Enola to step on, as
of old. She divined his intention and placing her foot on his trunk, he
raised her to his back and started off down the avenue, she sitting
Turkish fashion on the silk covering which was always worn by the white
elephant.
Onrai was now near enough to distinguish her form, and seeing her
approach he urged his zebra into a still faster gallop and in a moment
he and Enola had met, and Gip, turning, strode along beside the zebra.
Far above Onrai Enola sat, her face almost hidden by the huge figure of
the elephant, but Onrai was happy in the thought that he was near her.
That was enough for him at least.
“You came to meet me, then?” asked he.
“No, I think it was Gip, who came to meet you,” answered Enola, smiling,
“I simply accompanied him.”
Onrai laughed as he said, “Well, you are here and that is enough. You
are looking entirely well this morning; are you feeling so?”
“Perfectly so,” answered Enola, “and ready and waiting to again take up
the journey.”
“We will start to-morrow, at break of day,” said Onrai, “and let us hope
that our journey will not again be broken by such an event as the
storm.”
“Yes, it was fearful,” answered Enola, “but let us not talk of gloomy
things on this beautiful morning. The miserable past is gone and let us
forget it. I hope your people will not again mistrust us, for this hope
only will again insure us comfort and happiness.”
They had now reached the villa and Gip, placing his trunk for Enola to
step on and kneeling for her, she was soon standing beside the King.
“I thank you for having met me,” he said.
“Don’t thank me,” said Enola. “Thank Gip.” Then she tripped lightly up
the terrace stairs.
“She seems to have lost all seriousness since her recovery,” said Onrai
to himself, as he followed Enola into the villa, “but this may be
joyousness over that recovery. But she will have to be serious when the
time comes, for my people will demand it.”
Enola had gone into her own apartment, where she found Nellie awaiting
her.
“Has Onrai said anything to you yet?” asked Nellie.
“About what?” asked Enola.
“About his intended marriage,” said Nellie, and she tried to smile, but
could not, the whole matter seemed such a farce.
“About his marriage? why he has not mentioned it to me,” said Enola.
“It is strange he should not have spoken to you about it,” said Nellie,
“for it concerns you quite as much as himself.”
“In what way?” asked Enola. “I cannot possibly see how I am concerned in
his marriage.” But as she spoke she remembered the conversation of the
night of the storm and of his accusation. For he had told her then that
a King was not allowed to marry, how was this then, that he was going to
break the law.
“Tell me, Nellie,” said she.
“I can hardly bring myself to do so,” said Nellie. “We told you that we
had trouble with the people when you were sick, which nearly ended in
our massacre, but we did not tell you all concerning that trouble. You
are strong enough now and can hear it. They accused you of bewitching
the King, when you knew he was forbidden by the laws to either love or
marry. They said that the storm had come to them as a warning, and was
God’s wrath on them for harboring us, and they were going to kill us.
But the high priest learned that the King could marry you if he so
desired, and so we were pardoned, and now it is the King’s intention and
the people’s desire that you should marry him. But I cannot understand
why he has not spoken to you about it. Oh, Enola, can you marry this
barbarous king?”
“Don’t ask me, now, Nellie, I cannot answer—I cannot understand.” And
Enola drew her hand across her eyes as if to break the spell.