MORE FUGITIVES IN GUMILCUND
They could not spend more than a day and a night in Gambier Singh's hospitable camp. Moreover, the gallant little Ghoorka army had work to do. It had been reinforced by English officers and troops, and it was bound on an expedition south to cut off the retreat of a body of rebels who, having escaped the swords and guns of Havelock's Highlanders, were rushing up to hide themselves in the mountains. But Gambier Singh, with the full consent of his fellow officers, both British and Nepaulese, would not let his friends depart unattended. An escort, sufficiently strong to make them respected both by insurgent villagers and fugitive sepoys, was told off to protect them on their further journey, and he added to their travelling stores such comforts as he could command.
Both parties, the English rajah, with his Nepaulese escort, and the Ghoorka army, started with light hearts, for there could be no doubt now that the tide of affairs in the peninsula had changed for the better. Delhi was taken by assault; the news was in every mouth. The King of Delhi was a captive; his army was scattered and destroyed; and although, while Oude was in insurrection, and Lucknow was in the hands of the rebels, and a vast army reinforced by the mutinous contingent from Gwalior still held the field, the mutiny could not be said to be crushed, there was good hope now of a successful issue to the efforts which had been made to extinguish it.
With the intelligence from Delhi, which was brought by swift runners to the Ghoorka camp, Tom had the satisfaction of receiving a good account of his Gumilcund levies. They were specially mentioned as having distinguished themselves in the assault. What he did not know then, but what he heard later, was that these men of Gumilcund had earned the praise even of the heroic Nicholson. On the day after the assault, when the gallant English soldiers, who had fought like lions and shed their blood like heroes, fell prone to the temptation thrown in their way by their enemies, and lay about, stupid as sheep, in the streets and courts of the city they had so brilliantly won, it was a band of Gumilcund men, who, by their steadfastness and intrepidity, prevented the day of dishonour from being, to many of them, a day of disaster.
This the rajah heard at Gumilcund, whither, as there is nothing in his further journey to deserve a special record, we must now return.
The English ladies in the palace had settled down, as we shall remember, into a peaceful and well-cared-for, if somewhat monotonous, life. They never went out into the streets of the city. This was by the advice of Chunder Singh and Lutfullah, who feared that the people, looking upon them as, in some sort, responsible for the loss of their rajah, might show signs of hostility if they appeared amongst them. As for those grave personages themselves, they had overcome their first feelings of doubt and suspicion.
By the time of which I am speaking the rajah's message from the village in the Doab, where he halted to rescue the English prisoners, and received the intelligence which sent him to Azimgurh and Nepaul, had arrived. It had been immediately obeyed. Before Grace and Kit were found Mrs. Lyster shared the hospitality of the English rajah's palace, and the two young officers, who had so narrowly escaped an ignominious death, were resting and recruiting their strength in the Resident's comfortable house.
This message had brought hope back to the city. Their rajah had not completely deserted them. He sent word that he would return, that wherever he went he was mindful chiefly of their interests, that he would die rather than betray them; and they believed him. Over the common people, in fact, to whom the contents of this letter was made known, his influence was rather strengthened than weakened by what had taken place. His mysterious departure, his extraordinary escape out of the hands of Dost Ali Khan the deadly enemy of Gumilcund, with the destruction of the fort, from which the city and State had so often been threatened, confirmed their belief that the gods were in league with their rajah, and that, while he continued to rule over them, peace and prosperity were assured to the State.
And in fact this small principality was, at the time of which I am writing, like one of those islands in the Southern Seas which awful coral reefs guard from the onslaught of stormy waves. To her very doors the tempest raged. From east and west, from north and south, the posts, which had again begun to run, brought news of mutinous armies in possession of the country, of burning villages and sacked cities, of robber-tribes pursuing unchecked their career of violence, and of peasants fleeing from their unreaped fields. She remained untouched—a fortress and a refuge.
In the palace things were not so dull as they had been. Chunder Singh and Lutfullah paid daily visits to the ladies, to assure themselves that they wanted for nothing. The message from the rajah and the arrival of Mrs. Lyster raised their drooping spirits. Mrs. Durant began to hope that she might one day see her darling Kit again, and Lucy was better able to excuse herself for what she still looked upon as her own cowardly desertion of her cousin and friend.
As for Mrs. Lyster, I am afraid it would take more space than I have at my command to do anything like justice to her feelings. When, after her long and toilsome journey, she was carried within the precincts of the palace, and her litter being set down in the cool marble court of the quarter allotted to the European ladies, she found herself surrounded with gentle and sympathetic faces, she was as one in a dream. Long after, as she has told me since, it abode in her mind like a picture in a vision. There were little Lucy, with her pure white skin and golden hair and pathetic eyes, from which the dream of horror had not yet passed away; and the pale-faced mother eager—so eager—for news, yet not venturing to ask a question until the haggard, wild-eyed visitor had been refreshed and comforted; and Aglaia, like a child-angel with love and wonder in her face, and close to her the dusky-faced Sumbaten, pouring out broken words of welcome and offers of assistance; and little Dick, rosy and sweet, at sight of whom the poor fugitive covered her face with her hands and wept. Her baby had been shot—her soft innocent little darling—shot, in the arms of its father, who had torn it from the ayah to protect it with his own body. And then he had fallen too, and when, cold and still as lifeless stone, she leant over them to staunch their life-blood, he whispered to her hoarsely, 'For the sake of our children in England, escape!'
She had escaped—oh, God! she had escaped! But was not life far bitterer than death?
They knew how it was with her. Everyone of them had gone through her hour of worse than martyrdom, so they waited silently till she looked up again and made a pathetic effort to smile and thank them; and then Aglaia, who, having been the first comer, continued to do the honours of the palace, took her by the hand, and Aglaia's ayah followed, and she was given clear water and fresh garments, and when she was ready she was brought out again to the rajah's summer-house, where an English tea, with tinned meats and wheaten bread, and luscious Eastern fruits, was spread out.
It was then, as she has told me, that her perplexity began. She was asked a number of questions which she could not answer. Aglaia stood up before her, and besought earnestly to be told where Daddy Tom was, and why he did not come back, and when, thinking naturally the poor child was asking for one of the dead, she said that she had not seen him, Lucy interposed quickly: 'Oh! she means the rajah; don't you know? He sent you here.'
'The rajah! Daddy Tom!' echoed Mrs. Lyster.
'Of course you know he is an Englishman,' said Lucy.
'It was no Englishman saved us,' said Mrs. Lyster, shaking her head. 'Ask the others!'
'Oh! but it was; it was Tom. I think his second English name is Gregory. It's a funny story. Grace told me part of it,' said Lucy, 'and I heard the rest here. Surely he told you about Grace——'
'And about Kit, my sweet Kit, my little hero!' said Mrs. Durant, weeping.
'Grace! Kit! I don't understand. I think indeed we must be playing at cross-purposes. God knows it would give me the truest happiness to relieve your anxieties: you who have received me so kindly. But what can I tell you but the truth? We were saved by an Indian prince, a young man. He came to see us in the headman's hut, late at night, after he had killed twenty of our captors with his own hand. He told us he was the rajah of this place, and he would send us here with soldiers of his own. But, Tom—Thomas Gregory! what do you mean?' cried Mrs. Lyster, in great agitation. 'I knew an Englishman of that name once.'
'But you don't, you can't, mean to say that you know nothing more!' said Lucy. 'Think, for heaven's sake! Try your hardest to remember.'
'Try to remember? Do you think I could forget? In the depths of our despair, I and those two poor boys, who were dying under my eyes; not knowing what fresh horrors each fresh day might have in store for us; living on and praying to a God who, we still believed, was a God of Mercy, to let us die swiftly, and our pains and troubles end; all at once, in a moment, at dead of night, dragged out to what we thought must be the swift and sudden death we had prayed for; and then to find ourselves safe, our bonds loosened, our enemies gone, kind and gracious friends about us, with words of hope which have been fully—fully redeemed upon their lips! Forget! we should be monsters of ingratitude if we forgot. If I could ever return it, ever show—but that would be impossible,' cried Mrs. Lyster wildly.
'Yes, impossible,' said the ladies together. And Lucy added softly, 'Tom has been our good angel. But it was for Grace's sake. We must not forget that. He sent for us because of her. Do you know, all of you, she might have escaped alone, long before, and we, God only knows where we should have been! He was searching for Grace when he rescued you, Mrs. Lyster; he is searching for her still. Most likely she is dead, and then he will die too!'
'Oh! Lucy! Lucy! Don't talk so wildly!' said Mrs. Durant. 'Look at Aglaia and think of me! You are frightening Mrs. Lyster.'
'I am not frightened,' said the poor lady, 'only bewildered. My Thomas Gregory was such an interesting boy. At least, we thought him so at first. Then some one said he was more than half a native. There was a curious story about him,' she went on gropingly. 'He was going out, they said, to inherit the wealth of an Indian rajah. Dear! how strangely things come round. If'—with a little laugh—'I had only known he was Thomas Gregory——'
'Was he going on with his search?' said Lucy.
'Yes; and now I think of it, I must have given him a clue. His servant questioned me!'
'Hoosanee, our good Hoosanee!' cried Lucy, clapping her hands.
'He struck me as being rather artful,' said Mrs. Lyster.
'So he is, but it is in his master's service,' said Lucy joyously. 'Hoosanee is a man of resource. I am sure they are safe now.'
'God grant it!' said poor Mrs. Durant, breaking into tears and sobs. 'If he were not such a darling—much too good for this world—I might hope too! Oh! Kit, my poor Kit, my pretty Kit, I can see your brave little face now as you went away! How I kept still I don't know. I was paralysed.'
'If Grace had been paralysed, we should none of us have been here to tell the tale,' said Lucy, with a sort of disdain, which was as much for herself as for these others, on her pale face.
'How she found strength to do it I can't imagine,' said little Dick's mother. 'But for baby——'
'Oh!' interposed Lucy, 'we all had our own reasons, of course. As a fact, I believe we couldn't have done any differently!'
'It is all very mysterious,' said Dick's mother; 'but I don't see why you should be so sardonic about it, Lucy. We ought to be thankful that our lives are spared. I am sure I am, both for myself and dear little baby.'
'Don't! Don't!' cried Lucy passionately. 'You hurt me! Thankful! How can I be thankful? Till Grace and Kit are here beside me, I shall not be thankful. I know I am wicked; but I can't help myself. It's in me.' And then she turned away, and gripped Aglaia by the arm. 'Come!' she said, 'you won't reason with me or try to make me good. Let us find Sumbaten, and see what she is doing for Mrs. Lyster!'
They looked after her, as with a defiant step she went away along the avenue, and Mrs. Durant sighed deeply, while Dick's mother shook her head, and said that Lucy's temper did not improve. It was a pity they could not see her more subdued and humbled. As for Mrs. Lyster, she sat very silent. She was gazing out into the soft rose lilac of the narrowing heavens, and thinking of the young fellow who had been her companion on that delightful voyage, that seemed now so long ago—the young fellow whom she had liked and admired until a certain strange day, when he mystified her and others by putting on an Oriental robe, and assuming, with such marvellous perfection, the speech and manners of an Oriental grandee.