by C. A. Frazer
CHAPTER IX.
As Atma drew near to the confines of Kashmir he trod a secluded vale,and followed the windings of a broad stream whose banks were thicklywooded. As he pursued his way through a thicket he heard voices in gayconverse, and stayed his steps until, peering through the heavy foliage,he descried below the overhanging river-bank two dark-eyed girls. Theywere seated on a broad stone, and one laved her feet in the water andbent over the swift current; but the head of the other, wreathed inscarlet blossoms, was uplifted, and in the bright face half turnedtowards him he recognized an attendant of Moti. She listened as ifsuspecting his approach, but soon apparently satisfied, she resumed herlight chatter with her companion. Atma heard his own name, and gatheredthat they sought him. He made himself known, and the elder, who wasNama, the Maharanee's trusted servant, related how her mistress greatlydesiring a sprig of White Ak, a tree of great virtue in incantations,had commissioned her to obtain it in the forest near by. She had alsobeen charged, she said, to meet Atma Singh, and bring her illustriousmistress tidings of his welfare.
Although, as a true Sikh, Atma worshipped an Idea, and held in scorn allmaterial semblance of the supernatural, he knew that magic was largelypractised by professed adherents of the Khalsa, and so heard her errandwithout surprise, though guessing that its timely performance had inview some other purpose concerning himself. This became certain whenNana made known to him that she was not then to return home, but tolinger here and in the neighbourhood of the Sacred Well, spoken of bythe Ranee, for an indefinite time, while the girl beside her at oncereturning, would bear to Ferazpore as well as to the house of his uncletidings of his present safety. As Nama spoke, Atma fancied once that thelittle maid standing by sought to engage his attention by a mute sign,but, ere he could be sure, she desisted and became engrossed in theadjustment of the crown of scarlet flowers with which she had bedeckedher head. A dim suspicion of treachery rose in his breast, a vaguemisgiving. He rapidly recalled to mind the affectionate language of hiskinsman, the promises of the Ranee, and perhaps stronger than all rosethe dear vanity of royal youth, which cannot believe itself scorned.Were not all the high hopes of his life at stake? It is not possiblethat when youth hazards all, the venture should fail. But the forebodingremained. It was akin to the shudder which tells us that some one stepson the sod beneath which we are to lie. The analysis of these subtlemelancholies is hard to read. A breath may summon them and they lingerunbidden, and whether they point only to the dim shadows they invokefrom the past, or whether their warning be of the future, we cannot say.Even as I write a sadness oppresses me, born of I know not what.
If any asked me whence it came, This languor of my soul to-day, And why I muse in piteous frame While all the glowing world is gay, I could not tell, I only mourn, And wonder how to life it stirred, The memory of that distant morn, As then I wondered had I heard That grief could ever sink to sleep Nor aye that stony vigil keep.
Enter ye dreams of vanished woe, The spectral griefs of long ago; I fold my hands, in dreamlike trance, I see their shadowy train advance-- Phantom forms like shades of eld, Memory-prints or forms beheld, I cannot know, they fade away; Faintly their voices seem to say, "You loved us not that distant day," And, lo, my foolish tears o'erflow. Can this be I who fain would know Those bitter griefs of long ago?
As Atma approached the city of Jummoo he found himself again by ariver-side, and seeing a small boat he entered it and was soon glidingwith the current. It was night when he floated among the trees of thePalace gardens. Thousands of lights glittered through the foliage. Theair was burdened with perfume. High above the sombre umbrage roseslender snowy spires, around which the moonbeams lingered lovingly. Heleft the little skiff and trod the terraced ascent. A meanderingbrooklet, tributary of the larger stream, was spanned by fairy-likebridges. He hesitated among the intersecting ways, mazy, enchanting, andflower-bordered. The living air was full of subdued sound. Bubblingwater, tinkling bells, and the mingling of many voices made music whichwas borne on perfumed winds. This was the fairest spot in all sunnyKashmir, where the nightingale sings perpetually in groves of citron,magnolia, and pomegranate.
He reached the splendid portico which was the chief entrance of thePalace. Its carven and gilded roof was supported by alabaster columns.It had been a day of pomp and festival, and courtiers still in theiryellow robes of state reclined here, languidly enjoying the cool nightair. Atma ascended the broad steps where officers of state weremarshalled in lines, gold-hilted swords at their sides, and theirgorgeous attire glittering with jewels. Here he requested an audience ofthe Rajah, and, preceded by a servant bearing his credentials, he passedthrough lofty and magnificent chambers to an ante-room where he resteduntil summoned to the presence of Golab Singh, whom he found in an innercourt lit by rose-hued lamps. The air was cool, delicious and fragrant,the stillness and the softened light were in pleasing contrast to thedazzling splendour of the halls and room he had traversed. Here in analcove were seated three or four men. The Maharajah received him withaffability, and made gravely courteous enquiries for the health andwell-being of Junda Kowr. He welcomed her envoy, and would know of thedifficulties and dangers of his journey thither, and added gracefulflattery to his commiseration. Then, after much courteous discourse, heconfided the young Sikh to the care of attendants, with many injunctionsregarding his comfort and refreshment. And Atma went out from the augustpresence with heart elate, for he had instantly observed in the turbanof Golab Singh a gem which by its size and hue he knew must be noneother than the Sapphire of Fate, whose magical renown might yet in histrue hands rally a degenerate Khalsa until such time as the disciples ofNanuk might again know good from evil, and reverence Truth alone.
An hour later, as he left the sumptuous baths where obsequious slaveshad attended him, an officer of state approached him with a message fromthe Rajah.
"Atma Singh, there are within these walls Englishmen who hold command inthe British army. As a true friend and servitor to the Ranee, and theMaharajah's esteemed guest, do not divulge nor let them suspect thatyou had lately audience of her highness."
For Golab Singh, notwithstanding the cruelty of his administration, wasfriend to all, Christian, Musselman, Brahmin, or Sikh, and did not loveto be suspected of an undue sympathy with any, not even when suchsympathy might wear the cloak of patriotic loyalty.