IN THE PALACE
In the general excitement no one had remembered to tell the English ladies of the missive that had been received from the rajah. Through Sumbaten, however, who loved gossip as much as those of her order at home, some rumour of what was going on had filtered into their quarters of the palace. Lingering in one of the outer halls, and wondering at the stir in the house, she was told that the rajah's apartments were being made ready for him, and that he was coming home that night.
Armed with this joyful news she ran back to her ladies. This was early in the afternoon. They did not believe her in the least, so they said; yet, as the time went on, they too became aware that something unusual was going forward. At the instance of Sumbaten, reinforced by Lucy, they put on gala attire. Then they wandered up and down the shaded alley that led from the inner marble court to the summer-house, longing for this day of many hours to come to an end.
When at last the dusk began to fall, Sumbaten, who had been sent into the outer court to watch, came running in to say that there was an extraordinary stir in the market-place; but that she could get no one to tell her what it meant, for all the palace was empty.
Then they gathered together and looked into one another's faces with wonder and hope and terror. Mrs. Lyster was as pale as death. Mrs. Durant, who could not stand, clutched at her arm. Little Dick's mother seized her child, who was playing about on the grass, and clasped him in her arms, whispering that perhaps it was a rising and couldn't they get away or hide? Lucy was trembling too, but she would show no lack of courage. 'Nonsense,' she said a little scornfully. She looked down and saw Aglaia standing close beside her, her clear eyes shining like globes of light and her cheeks as red as a newly opened rose. 'What do you think, little Miss Wisdom?' she said.
'I'm not wise, I'm foolish,' said Aglaia, 'but I know he is coming, and the people are making a noise because they are glad. Hadn't we better go into the hall to meet them?'
'Yes; yes; come along! Aglaia has more sense than all of us put together,' said Lucy.
'Oh! but is all right? How shall I bear it? How shall I bear it?' cried Mrs. Durant.
'It will soon be over. Have courage for a few more moments! Ah! if I had only your hope!' said Mrs. Lyster.
'I beg your pardon, dear,' murmured Mrs. Durant. 'I had forgotten.'
They went together into the hall, where they found everything in readiness for them. Beautifully-shaded lamps, which diffused a warm glow over the apartment, were lighted; the water in the fountain in the midst of the hall, and in the channels that ran through it, was stirring briskly; and on the daïs at the upper end, which was decorated with Persian rugs and embroidered curtains from famous Indian looms, their usual evening meal was spread out. With its delicately-wrought pavement, its sculptured pillars, its flowers and ferns and gaily-plumaged birds, it was a room to make the mouth of the modern æsthete water. But the English ladies were accustomed to its beauty, and to-night they had no thoughts for it. They were given up to listening, to watching for that which was to come. Moments passed into minutes, and never surely were minutes so tardy in their flight. Louder, meanwhile, and louder grew the tumult below. Lucy threatened to veil herself and run outside, but the others held her back. Sumbaten would rush out, stay away a few moments, and come back with a sensational piece of news. They listened with white faces, all but Aglaia, whose eyes were dancing, and whose face was bright with colour.
At last, when their patience was nearly at an end, they heard the gates of the palace open. Then the sound of many voices came floating through the courts and passages and staircases that separated their apartments from the outer enclosure, and Sumbaten came rushing in to cry out that the rajah had come in.
And now little Lucy set her teeth together, and Mrs. Durant gave a low moan. 'Look out,' she whispered to Mrs. Lyster. 'I dare not.' But in the next instant she was flying across the hall, with a wild cry of joy, 'Kit! Kit! I hear him!'
She had heard him—the little silver voice that she had thought never upon earth to hear again had rung out clearly above all those others. 'Kit! Kit!' It was all over then—the anguish, the suspense, the horror of great darkness. Kit, her own golden-haired Kit, was safe. But another cry, a cry shrill and joyous, echoes through the palace court. He is in front, of course—the enterprising little hero; all these people are so slow and so stately that he cannot wait for them. He has penetrated to the foot of the great staircase that leads up to the ladies' court and hall. There he catches a glimpse of his mother's pale face irradiated with joy. 'Mother!' he cries.
'Kit, my little Kit, my darling!' She has him in her arms. She is kissing him, fondling him, breathing sweet nothings over him as if he were a baby. It is all very pleasant, of course, but to a hero of Kit's standing just a little humiliating.
'Thank you, mother dear,' he says. 'I'm awfully glad too! But look here!' drawing himself gently away. 'Couldn't you kiss me presently? I don't mind it, you know. I like it. But there are such a lot of people here just now, and we're blocking up the way.' Put down upon his feet, he smoothed his ruffled plumes, and looked round him with dignity. 'Ah!' seeing Lucy close by, 'here's some one else I know. How do you do, Lucy?'
'Very well, thank you, Kit,' said Lucy, with corresponding gravity.
'You look all right,' said Kit. 'I've brought back Grace, you know. But I say,' catching sight of Aglaia, 'who's this?'
'Do you want to be introduced to her formally, you ridiculous child?' said Lucy. 'Mrs. Durant, for heaven's sake take him away! He will make me laugh, and I feel more inclined to cry. Ah! Here they come! Grace! Grace!'
'Daddy Tom!' said Aglaia, pressing forward.
'Tom! Tom Gregory! How could I ever have mistaken him?' cried Mrs. Lyster; but she kept in the background, and her cheeks, which had been so pale, were flushed with colour. They were mounting the marble steps together, Grace leaning on the rajah's arm, and he with no eyes for anyone but her. She was very pale, as if she were weary, and there was a curious steadfast look in her eyes, which rested nowhere; but seemed always to be looking on to something beyond.
'Grace!' repeated Lucy, and could say no more, for the words seemed frozen on her lips. Then, in a rapid whisper to Tom, 'Does she know us? Why does she look so?'
'Yes, yes. She is tired. I am afraid the coming in and the welcome of the people have been too much for her,' said Tom hoarsely. 'Let her rest, and she will be better to-morrow!'
He did not ask for Mrs. Lyster, who kept still in the background watching him with one of her old smiles upon her lips. To Mrs. Durant, who had caught his hands and was pouring out her gratitude, he could scarcely pay even the attention necessary for politeness. As for Aglaia, her whispered greeting had been quite unheeded. He had not so much as seen her. The child turned away with a pale face and clouded eyes. 'He saved me too,' she whispered; 'but he has forgotten.'
They had reached the top of the stairs. Grace was smiling, but there was still that strange fixed look in her eyes. Lucy, divided between tears and laughter, threw her arms about her cousin's neck, and covered her face with kisses. Then she led her in to the others, chattering wildly. 'I can scarcely believe you have really come back!' she cried. 'I think I shall awake to-morrow and find it a dream. If you only knew what I have gone through, darling. I felt myself such a dreadful coward. I should have gone away with you as Kit did, brave little Kit! And oh! aren't you glad to be amongst us again? To-morrow you must tell us your adventures. Grace! why do you look so? Laugh! cry! say you are happy or sorry! Do anything! Perhaps it would be a relief to your feelings to scream. I know it would be to mine,' said Lucy, gazing at her cousin earnestly. But Grace only smiled that placid smile, looking out still as if she saw something beyond them. They brought her to a softly-cushioned divan on the daïs. Tom had given her up to Lucy. He was stumbling back across the hall when his glance fell upon Aglaia, and he stopped. She was standing by herself, and her eyes were full of tears.
'Aglaia!' he said, stooping over her kindly. 'Are you crying because we have come back?'
The child did not speak. 'But what is it, then? I thought I should have seen you dancing with joy.'
'I was a few minutes ago,' said Aglaia vaguely.
'And has something happened since then, little friend? Come! Tell me! They are all busy up there, so no one else will hear.'
'No; no; no; it's nothing,' said Aglaia, choking back her sobs. 'I am your little friend still.'
'Of course you are, dear. Did you think I was so fickle as to have forgotten you?'
The pink flush mounted to Aglaia's face.
'Please forgive me,' she said softly. 'And'—hesitating—
'Yes, dear—go on!'
'She is lovely. I think I shall love her, even though you do like her best.'
'Best!' echoed Tom, smiling. 'Now you are a little goose! Don't you know, Aglaia, that there are different kinds of loving! I love you as my child—my little friend.'
'And Grace?' said Aglaia. 'Isn't she your friend too?'
'She is my friend, and something more. At least, I hope so. You know we may have more friends than one.'
'Yes,' said Aglaia doubtfully. But she added under her breath, 'There is only one best.'