by C. A. Frazer
CHAPTER III.
After his father's death Atma betook himself to Lahore, where dweltLehna Singh, only brother of the departed Sikh. A man of a totallydifferent cast of mind, he had early adopted a commercial life, and now,in the enjoyment of a vast fortune, yet undiminished by thecontingencies of war, lived in luxury and opulence, his dwellingthronged by Sikhs whose possessions, unlike his own, had melted away inthe national catastrophe. The fact of his house being the rendezvous ofa discontented faction did not escape British vigilance, the more so asLehna Singh was one of the eight sirdars appointed to sit in councilwith the British Resident. But the confidence of his countrymen in himremained unshaken by the appearance among them of British envoys inmilitary state, bearing despatches to the friend of the national foe,and the questionable attitude of Lehna became to the Resident daily moreand more the subject of suspicious surmisings.
Indeed, a whisper was afloat of secret messages from Feragpore,whither, before the war, had been removed the Ranee Junda Kovr, deposedQueen of the Punjaub, as a consequence of a detected plot against thelife of the Resident, which, together with her sullied reputation,--forshe had many lovers,--had induced the council to pronounce her an unfitguardian for the little Maharajah, her son. This clever woman, aconstant source of vexation to the Resident, had long forfeited therespect of friend and foe; but her intrepidity, cunning, andunscrupulous thirst for power conspired to render her formidable to theone, and to the other a partisan to be courted and retained. Hermessages of insolent defiance to the Durbar are historic, but of thecountless schemes and intrigues in which she continued to play the partof chief conspirator we have only heard a portion. Suffice it to saythat the faithlessness of her policy alike towards adversary, or ally,and the scandal of her retinue of lovers, had gained for her anill-repute, that combined with the watch set upon her movements by theBritish to render men chary of dealings with the little court atFeragpore, where she held mimic state.
But of all these tales of craft and crime Atma knew nothing. To him allmen were valiant and all women fair and good, and the wife and child ofRunjeet Singh, the Lion of the Punjaub, were invested in his fondimaginings with ideal excellence. "To the pure all things are pure," or,as a later genius has voiced it, "He who has been once good is forevergreat," and Atma lived in the corrupt atmosphere of his uncle's house,and took no hurt; nay, his spiritual life by its own dynamic force grewand thrived, for, governed by other laws than those that control ourphysical natures, the food of the soul is what it desires it to be, andmoral poison has often served for nutriment. It is death to souls thatdesire death. In another sense than Bonaparte's, every man born unto theworld may say, "I make circumstances."
And the spacious abode of Lehna Singh had loveliness enough to veil thesordid character of the life that was lived within its walls. Atma hadnot been ignorant of his kinsman's wealth and importance; but it is onething to hear of wealth and to ponder in critical mood the fleetingnature of this world's weal, and quite another to gaze with the eye onthe marvellous results of human thrift. He wandered through lofty andspacious apartments, whose marble arches seemed ever to reveal a fairerscene than had yet met his view. A mimic rivulet ran from room to roomin an alabaster channel, and the spray of perfumed fountains cooled theair. Flowers bloomed, leafy vines trailed over priceless screens, andcountless mirrors repeated the joyous beauty of the place. He beheldwith admiration the gilded and fretted walls and stately domes, the newdelights of a palace charmed every sense, and, appealing to poeticfancy, awoke a rapture whose fervency was due less to the entrancementof his present life than to the contemplative habit of one who had firstknown harmony whilst gazing on the stars, and awaked to theconsciousness of beauty among the eternal hills. The ripple of thestreamlet in these palace halls revived a half-forgotten music of theheart that had once responded to the gurgle of a brook.
"Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter."
The sympathies that had once been in unison with the rustling thicketstirred into more definite life when an artificial breeze swept by andstirred the heavy foliage of rare plants. He had caught in other daysnotes of Nature's vast melody. Stray notes were here made to beat to asmaller measure. Thus Art interprets Nature. It was not The Song, but alight and pleasant carol, which pleased the sense of many, and to theear of the few brought a haunting pain of which they did not know themeaning. Such a one only sighed and said:
"In a former birth I was great and good, and my life was sublime. Theghost of its memory has touched me."
O melody divine, of fantasy And frenzied mem'ry wrought, advance From out the shades; O spectral utterance, Untwine thy chains, thy fair autocracy Unveil, have being, declare Thy state and tuneful sovereignty.
Ye gifted ears, To whom this burdened, sad creation Sings, now in tones of exultation Abruptly broken, Anon in direst lamentation Obscurely spoken, Possess your souls in hope, the time Is coming when th' harmonic chime Of circling spheres in chant sublime Will lead the music of the seas, And call the echoes of the breeze To one triumphal lay Whose harmony, whose heavenly harmony Sounding for aye In loud and solemn benedicite, Voices the glory of the Central Day, And through th' illimitable realms of air Is borne afar In wafted echoes that the strain prolong Through boundless space, and countless worlds among, Meas'ring the pulsing of each lonely star, And sounding ceaselessly from sphere to sphere That note of immortality That whispers in the sorrow of the sea, And in the sunrise, and the noonday's rest, And triumphs in the wild wind's meek surcease, And in the sad soul's yearning unexpressed, And unexpressive for perpetual peace.
But the loveliest of Lehna Singh's possessions was Moti, his daughterand only child, the fame of whose beauty had even reached Atma in hismountain home. Of her he had dreamt through boyhood's years, and ahappy consciousness of her proximity foreshadowed the enchanted hourwhen he was to behold her and own that his fondest fancies were to herloveliness as darkness to noonday. Her name he had heard whispered inthe gay throng of her father's guests, on the memorable first evening ofhis arrival there; but, strange to tell, next day, when these firsthours in a palace seemed to his excited imagination a dream in whichmingled in wildest confusion the glitter of diamonds, the perfume of athousand flowers, the revel of dazzling colors, the bewildering music ofunknown instruments, and the intoxication of wonder and bliss, thererang through all only one articulate voice, sounding as if from someleafy ambush amid vague laughter and murmurs of speech, saying:
"But I tell you that Rajah Lal Singh means to pluck the rose of LehnaSingh's garden!"