Beebee's father was gone, and peace and quiet reigned once more in the
palace. But the poor child fell ill. Now the house or palace where
Beebee lived was a somewhat lonesome one, and many, many miles from the
town, though not a great way from the village. It stood on elevated
ground, surrounded by splendid gardens, in which grew the rarest of
tropical fruits and flowers. Away behind it was the everlasting forest,
and behind that the snow-capped mountains, raising their jagged summits
into the blue ethereal sky.
But from the turrets high, away to the west, glimpses of the sea could
be had, and almost every evening Beebee and I went up to see the sunset.
It was glorious, Beebee said, to look upon the ocean at any time, but
to behold it lit up with the reflections of the gold and the crimson
clouds, was like having a glimpse of Paradise.
A physician was now sent for from the distant town, and his words to
Beebee were words of wisdom.
"It is not medicine I will give my fair young patient," he said. "It is
not medicine that she needs. It is the soul that is sick, not the body.
But if the body is strengthened the soul will become calm. My patient
grieves for an absent father, perhaps."
Beebee sighed, and the tears stole into her eyes.
"She must seek for surcease of sorrow every day in the forest,"
continued the physician. "Let her go with armed attendants, for wild
beasts are many, deep in the dark woodland recesses."
Then Beebee smiled through her tears.
"In the turret high," she said, "one can catch glimpses of the
ever-changing sea."
"Yes, yes, my patient may go there often."
"I would sleep there."
"Good. My patient shall. So now adieu! I will come again."
"You are wise and good," said Beebee innocently. "I shall pray for
you."
"Ah! then," he replied, "all good fortune will attend me. If one so
young and guileless prays for poor me, the gods will not forget me.
Adieu!"
"Adieu!"
Miss Morgan entered softly when the physician went away. She was
Beebee's English teacher. Beebee flew to meet her, and told her all the
doctor had said.
"It is what he likewise told me," said Miss Morgan, "and your studies
are to be interrupted for a time. Your teacher of Sanscrit shall come
no more for months. You will have a long holiday, and I am to read you
books that will amuse instead of instructing you."
"And I am to have a chamber in the turret?"
"Yes, dear, it is already being draped."
"Oh! now indeed I begin to feel well and happy."
And in the exuberance of her joy Beebee hung around Miss Morgan's neck
and danced up and down like a little child.
It was very pleasant up there in that turret, high above the swaying
trees.
Although so high above everything the room was by no means a small one.
Like those below, too, it was beautifully draped and tapestried, and the
floor was of mosaics, crimson and blue and yellow, while the cushions
that surrounded the walls were soft and delightful.
And all around the broad balcony the autumn roses clustered and clung,
while the sweet odour of orange blossoms was wafted up from the gardens
below. It was like new life to Beebee to dwell up in this turret high.
There was so much to be seen that would never have been visible in the
lower rooms.
The trees in themselves were a study, and that too, a very beautiful
one. Probably no country in the world has more lovely woods than those
of Persia. Here they were in all shapes; some on cliff tops, looking
like noble pillared temples encanopied with dark masses of foliage; some
like waves of the great rolling ocean itself; some like clouds of living
green; while trees near at hand were seen to be hung and festooned with
wild flowers, rich and rare, with which the sward itself was patched,
and painted, and parterred. And every flower seemed to have a specially
coloured moth or butterfly, or swift-winged dragon fly, that flew or
floated or darted in the sunshine above it. And every bush seemed to
contain a bird, the music of their voices as they answered each other in
love songs, being, Beebee told me, ravishing to the ear, though I fear
that I, being but a cat, and a young one, did not sufficiently
appreciate the melody, and viewed the songsters themselves more from an
epicurean and edible point of view than any other. Some of the birds
were most lovely, and brighter in wing than the rainbow, that in more
gloomy weather hung over the distant woodlands.
Strange as it may seem to you, Tabby, and to you, Mr Warlock, the birds
around my Persian home were very tame indeed. The reason for this is
not far to seek. They were neither hunted nor worried, and even the
peasantry, in the mud villages, looked upon them as sacred, and their
songs as God-gifts.
"God's poets, hid in foliage green,
Singing endless songs, themselves unseen;
May we not dream God sends them there,
Mellow angels of the air?"
No, they were not hunted and killed, nor were their nests robbed and
rent in pieces by village rustics, and so they were tame, and seemed to
love the people among whom they dwelt.
All night long the bulbuls sang, and at daybreak Beebee and I were
awakened from our slumbers by the murmuring music of little
bronze-winged pigeons that sat on our turret balcony. And at any hour
of the day if Beebee went out upon the balcony and waved a dainty
handkerchief towards the woods, birds of all kinds came flocking around
her, sat on the balcony rail, alighted on her head, on her shapely white
arms, and even fed from her open palm.
Yes, I confess that my instinct did at times whisper to me that I should
seize upon one of these lovely birds and bear it away into some quiet
corner and munch it and eat it, feathers and all.
But the very heinousness of such a crime used to make me shudder and
draw further back into the turret chamber. Kill Beebee's birds! How
terrible! As dreadful as if Tabby yonder were to slay poor droll Dick,
of whom we are each and all so fond.
But even birds of prey used to hover high above the turret at times, and
wait until Beebee threw pieces of bread towards them. Then down they
would swoop as swift as arrows, and the tit-bits had not time to reach
the ground before they were seized and borne away to the woods.
The woods, and the birds, and the wild flowers, these alone would have
rendered our turret life an ideal one. But there was the sky also, a
never-ending, ever-changing source of delight to Beebee.
We were up here in the clouds almost, for so high was the turret that
often we could see little fleecy cloudlets resting over the trees in the
valley far beneath. The sunrises in the east, where mountain rose o'er
mountain, and hills on hills, till they hid their snowy heads in the
heavens, were indescribably grand and gorgeous. Long, long before the
sun itself uprose, and while the shadows of night still rested in
valleys and glens, those snow-covered peaks, all jagged and toothed,
were lighted up with the most delicate shades of pink and crimson, with
ethereal shadows of pearly blue. Downwards and downwards the light and
colour would creep, till the forests seemed to swim in a purple haze;
then bars and fleeces of cloud grew before our eyes from grey to bronze,
and from bronze to lake and gold, and presently the sun's red disc
shimmered over the horizon and it was day; and the whole woods awakened
at once into a burst of joyous bird-music and melody.
The sunsets used to be equally lovely.
Beebee would watch the sea all day long almost. It never was lacking in
charm for her, whether grey under clouds of pearl, or bright blue under
a cloudless sky, or dark with trailing thunderstorms, it was always the
sea; and when a ship appeared, she would clap her tiny hands for very
joy, and run to procure her lorgnettes, that she might even see the
sailors as they walked to and fro across the decks, or leant listlessly
over the bulwarks.
"Some day, some day," she would cry, "some day, dear Shireen, you and I
will be on the ocean, and then, oh! then, at last, I shall be free. I
have been by its banks, Shireen, and have heard the music of its waters.
But it has a secret, a secret that it tells only to those who brave its
dangers.
"`Wouldst thou, the helmsman answered,
Learn the secrets of the sea?
Only those who brave its dangers,
Comprehend its mystery.'
"But," she added, still quoting the American bard:--
"`Ah! what pleasant visions haunt me
As I gaze upon the sea!
All the old romantic legends,
All my dreams come back to me.
"`Sails of silk and ropes of sendal,
Such as gleam in ancient lore;
And the singing of the sailors,
And the answers from the shore.
"`Till my soul is filled with longing
For the secret of the sea;
And the heart of that great ocean
Sends a thrilling pulse through me.'"
Yet beautiful though the sunsets used to be they seemed ever to throw a
shadow of melancholy over Beebee's heart, and whether Miss Morgan was in
the room or not, she would sit at the balcony casement in dreamy silence
long after the glory of the clouds had left them, and the shades of
night were falling over sea and land.
Then the stars would glimmer out, and their light appeared always to
make her happy once more. The evening star was her especial favourite,
not because it is the star of love, but because she called it and
thought it her mother's eye.
She would make her governess repeat to her, often over and over again,
Longfellow's beautiful lines to this star:--
"Just above yon sandy bar,
As the day grows fainter and dimmer,
Lonely and lovely a single star
Lights the air with a dusty glimmer.
"Into the ocean faint and far,
Falls the trail of its golden splendour;
And the gleam of that single star,
Is ever refulgent, soft, and tender."
Yes, I think Beebee loved that star better even than she loved the moon
that in silver radiance used to shine softly, dreamily down on the woods
and wilds.
My children, continued Shireen after a pause, I dwell longer on these
pleasant scenes than perhaps I ought to; for, ah! me, this was the
happiest part of my existence, and now that I am old and know I must
soon sleep beneath the daisies, the thought of my ideal life then cheers
my heart and banishes sadness far away.
But a change came. You must know then, Warlock, that Beebee did not
neglect the advice the good physician had given her, and that every day
she rode out into the woods and into the forests, always with a retinue
of armed servants.
Why such a retinue, did you ask, Warlock? Well, I think there were two
reasons. One was that the eunuch, who was Beebee's special guardian,
had received from her father strict injunctions never to let her beyond
his ken; another was that the country some distance from the palace was
infested by roving banditti, and that these robbers were sometimes in
the pay of dissolute nobles, and would think but little of attacking a
cavalcade, if they thought themselves strong enough to overpower it, and
bearing away with them a young lady as prisoner.
But Beebee had not the slightest fear for herself. Her father was bold
and brave to a fault. The daughter was brave without being bold. She
bore but little good-will now, however, to that fierce-eyed black
guardian of hers, and when out in the forest she was mischievous enough
to give him many a fright. Beebee, you must know, was a great favourite
with all her father's retainers, and she used to bribe the chief groom
sometimes to saddle for her a very fleet horse, and to let Jazr the
black eunuch have but a sorry one. Then she would touch her horse with
her spurs of gold when far away in the forest, and laughingly calling to
Jazr to follow, soon out-distance all her pursuers.
She would hide from them, and then ride home another way, and it would
be eventide before Jazr abandoned the search and came back disconsolate,
to be told that Beebee had been home hours and hours before.
It was during one of these wild rides that Beebee had the strange
adventure I am now going to describe to you.
I myself was with her that day, and so was Miss Morgan. This lady did
not love Jazr a whit more than did Beebee.
Miss Morgan had an exceedingly fleet horse that day, but somehow Jazr's
nag had gone lame, and Beebee rode on ahead, quickly followed by Miss
Morgan, and both were soon far beyond the fear of any pursuit.
Instead, however, of riding homewards to-day as usual, it pleased
Beebee's fancy to turn her horse's head towards the hills.
The poor child seemed to exult in her newly-acquired freedom. Why
should she be watched and guarded as if she were a prisoner and a thief?
she asked Miss Morgan.
"Why indeed?" answered that lady.
"Daughters are not so treated in Merrie England, are they, dear
teacher?"
"Oh, no, Beebee, my pupil. There they have much freedom, and are looked
upon as in every way the equals of man!"
"How I long to see England," said Beebee.
Then she bent down to me and patted my head.
"Some day, Shireen," she said, "some day. Ah! I know my freedom will
come! Perhaps my prince may come. In all pretty stories and
fairy-tales a prince always comes."
She laughed lightly as she spurred on her horse, Miss Morgan following
close to her heels.
But little did Beebee know that her prince had already come, and that he
was at the present moment in this very forest.
"Is it not time we returned?" said Miss Morgan, after they had ridden
some distance farther. "The priest's house in the wood that we passed
nearly half-an-hour ago is the last in the forest. The mountains come
soon now. Behold, Beebee, the pathway is already winding upwards.
Farther on we may come upon the den of a wild beast, or even worse, the
haunts of some evil men!"
Beebee was accustomed to be guided by her governess in everything, so
she now reined up her steed, and both stopped short, and permitted the
horses to help themselves to a few mouthfuls of the long tender grass
that grew abundantly all around them.
The silence in this part of the dark wild forest was a silence that the
heart could feel. Except for the occasional throbbing notes of a bulbul
in the distance, no sound of any kind fell upon their ears for a time.
Suddenly, however, from an adjoining thicket came a sound that caused
the hearts of both young ladies to beat faster as they listened
breathlessly.
Twice or thrice it was repeated.
"What can it be, Miss Morgan?" said Beebee, turning a shade paler. "It
sounds like someone moaning in pain or dying agony."
"Nay, nay, dear pupil," answered Miss Morgan, "we must not think that.
It is in all probability but the mournful croodling of some wood pigeon.
Hark, there it is again."
Once more they listened.
There could be no mistake about it now, for not only was this moaning
repeated, but after it a voice was heard calling feebly for help.
"Oh, sister," cried Beebee, now thoroughly alarmed, "it is some poor
wounded man. We cannot leave him. We must fly to his assistance!"
Without adding another word Beebee pushed the branches aside and urged
on her steed towards the spot from which the sounds proceeded.
Miss Morgan followed close behind.
And soon they came to a kind of green grassy glade in the forest, which,
from the trampled condition of the sward, gave evidence that a fearful
struggle had taken place there but very recently.
One man lay face downwards on the ground, and it was easy to see he
would never need help again.
But the other, evidently an Englishman, sat half up leaning on one
elbow, his other hand pressed against his side, and blood trickling over
his fingers.
Beebee quickly alighted from her horse and tied the bridle to a tree.
She was a Persian, it is true, but she had a woman's heart, and here was
a fellow-creature in pain and probably dying. She did not even notice
that her veil had fallen down as she quickly rushed towards the stranger
and knelt pityingly at his side.