A Noble Queen (Vol. 1-3). Taylor Meadows

I clove him through the shoulder, and he dropped from his horse dead, but his frightful curse as he received my blow, and his scowl of hate, haunt me still.

      "When I looked round there were only three men with me, and one was badly wounded, my brave Jumal, who died at Narrainpoor the day after we arrived there of the heat and his wound, and Runga Naik, who was wounded also, but I did not know that at the time. All the rest of my fellows, pursued by ten times their number of Abyssinians, were flying for their lives, and the fight had gone away some miles. I could only hear the shouts as we at last proceeded. There was no place of refuge but Juldroog, and it was now clear to me that the rebels had crossed the river somewhere in the night before the flood came down, with the intention of cutting off my party, which, weak as it was, they would easily have done in a surprise. It was a long and weary ride, cousin, and the heat and the dust were frightful, and you know my condition when I arrived."

      "A fair fight, a fair fight between you, and you won it, my brave brother. The worst of it is that Elias Khan was the chief of a large faction of the Abyssinians, and they will make a party quarrel of it. You will have to be careful when you get back to Beejapoor, and guard against surprise and treachery; but so, indeed, has everyone nowadays."

      "I do not fear that," returned Abbas Khan, quickly; "but what I do fear is that my conduct may be misrepresented. It may be said that I fled and left my poor fellows to their fate; and if that time come it would have been better had I died of heat and thirst. One is already dead; one is still with me, and brought away my standard, and he and Runga Naik are the only two who saw what happened."

      "But your wound is a witness, Meeah; and I am one also, when thou wert sick to death; and the old Dervish and his child as well."

      "Ye all know that I came and was in truth sick unto death, but ye did not know how I had come, or why."

      "But thy uncle, our uncle, Humeed Khan, thou art sure of him; and now he has overcome Eyn-ool-Moolk and the Prince, he will be high in favour with the King, and no one could oppose him."

      "Alas!" returned the youth, "our uncle is a stern man, and if he thought I had done a dastardly or cowardly act, would slay me with his own hand. It is not death that I fear, but dishonour, which is worse than death. That it is that preys on me, and that is why Elias comes often to me and cries, 'Thou shalt die!'"

      "He was a devil in life and he is a devil in death," said his cousin with a shudder. "Bethink thee, brother, hadst not thou best have his evil spirit exorcised and made to quit thee? The old Dervish is a holy man; hundreds come to him for charms and amulets, and he can give thee one against Elias and all other evil spirits; nay, even against the Shytán himself! We will send word to him, and go down in the cool of the evening. Canst thou walk so far?"

      There is no Indian Mussulman who, more or less, does not believe in the worth of charms and amulets against the effect of the Evil Eye; and there are none who do not believe in the malignity of evil sprites and demons who, wicked in life, have taken possession of innocent persons. In the Dekhan and south of India generally this belief is peculiarly strong, and it would have been impossible that Abbas Khan should not have shared a superstition which was so universally prevalent among all classes of the people.

      "Yes; I will go, brother," he said, "but not to-day, for my soul is heavy. The old man's guests, too, are hardly settled, and he will have too many cares for them to think of me. So let us have a game at chess, and this cloud may pass away. My wound, too, is painful, and I would have rest, instead of a rough walk over your rocks."

      "By all means, Meeah, let us play. There is thunder in the air, and there will be rain, and therefore thou art suffering. When thou art at ease we can go; till then, the Dervish and his guests are best left to themselves." And the cousins betook themselves to their game.

      CHAPTER VI.

       THE STORM AND THE FLOOD.

       Table of Contents

      Meanwhile, the good Padré and his sister, having been ferried over the river, as already mentioned, and their litters removed from the boats, looked around in amazement at the wild and impressive scene before them. High above, the fantastic rocks of the gloomy fortress towered majestically, and bastion after bastion revealed itself among them, glowing in the rising sun, and by its ruddy beams bereft awhile of their actual grimness. Below, the small village, with its half-ruined walls, seemed astir; for cattle and goats issued from the gate enveloped in clouds of dust, attended by shepherds, who drove them forth to graze on the level ground at the lower point of the island.

      A company of women, with bright water-pots on their heads, were going for water, and some people had collected in groups to watch the unusual sight of the strangers' arrival. Among them were some of the Governor's attendants, to one of whom the officer from Moodgul explained who the priest and his sister were, and, delivering his letters, bade the Padré a courteous farewell, and proceeded to return; while the attendant, after a few civil questions, bidding the litters to be taken to a shady spot under some tamarind trees, accompanied the party.

      "Can you tell me where the Dervish, who lives here, resides?" asked the priest of the man, who appeared civil.

      "Certainly," he replied, "it is close by. Come with me and I will call him."

      Zóra answered to the summoner, and the priest, taking off his hat, saluted her. He could not help being struck with the extreme beauty of the girl. "Can you speak Canarese?" he asked, "for I have a letter here for your father."

      "He is my grandfather," she said, modestly, "but if you will give me the letter I will read it for him, for he is blind." Then the girl retired with it, and in a few minutes returned, leading the old man by the hand, saying, "Abba, this is the Padré Sahib; speak to him."

      "You are welcome, Sir, to my poor house, in the name of the God we both worship, and in the name of Jesus and his mother. Your friend, the Nawab, asks me to give you shelter for a few days, and I do so with pleasure. My house is your own, if you can put up with scant room and such attendance as we can supply; my child, Zóra, must be your hostess. Where is your sister?"

      "Close by," said the priest, "under the trees; I will bring her to you."

      "Maria," he said, as he opened the curtain of the litter, "I have seen the old Dervish, who is kind and hospitable. He has offered us shelter, as the Nawab said he would; and he has one of the brightest and sweetest-looking of grandchildren, whose very smile will cheer you. Come! I will see to our baggage and dismiss our escort."

      "O gentle lady!" cried Zóra, clapping her hands and advancing to greet her guest as she passed the threshold, "surely thou art as beautiful as an angel;" and the girl's face was expressive of her wonder and admiration.

      Her large, liquid eyes were dilated to the full; her lips open, showing her white glistening teeth; and her first look of amazement had expanded into a beaming smile as she stretched forth her arms to embrace her guest. Nor was Maria slow to express her confidence, and took Zóra in her arms and held her to her heart in a warm embrace.

      "I shall be a trouble to you," she said, "and I cannot speak Persian like my brother."

      "But you speak my own language, you speak Canarese, lady, like a Brahmin; but see, there is my grandfather, he would welcome you, too."

      "Would that I had eyes to see thee, lady; but thou art welcome truly," said the old man kindly, and feeling in the air for his guest.

      "Let him put his hand on thy head, lady," said Zóra, "'tis that he wishes to do;" and she guided her grandfather's hand to Maria's head.

      "May God and the Holy Mother of Jesus keep thee, my child," he said reverently. "If thou art in trouble, or pain, or grief, thou wilt find peace in this poor house, and Zóra will love thee, and watch thee. That soft silky hair of thine is not of Hind, but of Europe, and thou wilt tell me of thy sweet country."

      Maria had removed her hood, and her fair, silky hair was clustering about her neck and shoulders. She had never looked more lovely than at