Volume Two—Chapter Twenty One.
The Inche Maida at Home.
“Ah, Princess,” cried Hilton, flushing with pleasure as he saw help and liberty shining as it were in the face of a friend, whose extended hand he took, “this is kind of you indeed. You had heard, then, of the outrage of these Malay people, and have come to have us freed.”
“Outrage!” cried the Princess indignantly. “Who has dared to hurt you?”
“That we do not know,” cried Hilton, eagerly. “You must discover that. I am glad to see you indeed.”
“And I you,” she replied, smiling in the young officer’s face, as he retained her hand. “Ah, Mr Chumbley,” she continued, extending her left. “I am very pleased to meet you once again.”
Chumbley shook the hand stretched out to him, and smiled as he looked curiously at their visitor, for slow of movement as he was, he was quick of apprehension, and he did not place his companion’s interpretation upon the meeting.
“I hope you were not hurt, Mr Chumbley,” she said.
“Oh, but we were,” cried Hilton, quickly, and before his friend could speak. “We were seized and dragged here by a pack of scoundrels who did not spare us much.”
“Ah, yes, I have just come,” she said. “I heard that you both fought very hard, like the brave, strong Englishmen you are, and some of the men were hurt, and badly too.”
“Chumbley there did his best,” said Hilton, “of course; but by whose orders was this done? You can tell me, I hope.”
“Yes,” drawled Chumbley, drily, “the Princess can tell you, I should say.”
“Yes,” said the Princess, smiling from one to the other. “You were brought here to this my hunting-home in the jungle by my orders, but no violence was to be used.”
“By your orders!” cried Hilton, dropping her hand as if it had burned him, and falling back a step, with the anger flashing from his eyes.
“The Princess tells you it is her hunting-box,” drawled Chumbley, drily; “she evidently meant to give us a surprise.”
“Be silent, Chumbley,” said Hilton, indignantly.
“Her highness was afraid that we might not get leave of absence, or that we should decline to come,” continued Chumbley.
“Oh, this is too much!” cried Hilton.
“Do not be angry,” said the Princess, speaking in a low, sweet tone, full of pleading tenderness. “I know it seems strange to you English people, but our ways are different to yours.”
“Well, yes: a little,” said Chumbley, who was laughing in a quiet internal way. “You have studied some of our etiquette, but you did not find this sort of thing.”
“Will you be silent, Chumbley?” thundered Hilton, indignantly.
“Did you not hear me?” said the Princess; and Chumbley noted that there was a very tender look in her eyes as she advanced and laid her hand upon Hilton’s arm. “I asked you not to be angry with me.”
“Angry?” cried Hilton, fiercely. “Angry? Why, madam, this is the act of some mad savage, and you professed to be a civilised friend!”
“It is the act, sir, of a princess!” said the Inche Maida with dignity. “One who is as a queen among her people!”
“And do you profess, madam, to be a friend of the English?”
“Yes, Captain Hilton, I have sought to be as far as I could.”
“Will you not sit down?” said Chumbley, pointing to the heap of cushions close at hand.
“Not while my guests are standing,” she said, with dignity. “Are you going to scold me and be angry too, Mr Chumbley?” she said, with a smile.
“Englishmen boast of being fair,” he replied. “If I scold it shall be when my friend has done.”
“Oh! I have done for the present!” said Hilton, with a mocking laugh. “Pray go on.”
“I have not much to say,” said Chumbley slowly; “only that it seems rather a determined way of inviting a couple of fellows to your country home, Princess. It has its good points, though, for you can always make sure of the number you want to have.”
The Princess inclined her head as if in acquiescence, and then looked pleadingly at Hilton, whose brow displayed an angry frown, and who had begun to pace the room, making the bamboo laths bend and creak beneath his weight.
“I knew she had taken a fancy to him,” said Chumbley to himself, as in his quiet dry way he noted what was going on; “but I never could have believed in this. I suppose I was caught and brought to play propriety, and to act as witness to the native ceremony, for she’ll marry Hilton as sure as he’s alive.”
“Of course you will give orders at once for a boat to be in readiness to take us back?” said Hilton haughtily.
“No,” said the Princess, smiling, “I shall not. Surely you are not tired of my hospitality quite so soon?”
“You are trifling, madam,” said Hilton, “and it is time this childish farce was brought to an end. I insist upon your ordering a boat to be in readiness at once.”
“I am sorry I cannot oblige you, Captain Hilton,” said the lady gloomily.
“Why have you done this?” he cried. “Why are we brought here?”
“Why have I had you brought here?” said the Princess in a low, musical voice. “Shall I tell you?”
“If you wish to,” said Hilton carelessly.
The Inche Maida’s eyes flashed at his indifferent manner.
“If I were one of my women,” she said, “I could not tell you. If I were only my own simple woman-self I could not tell you for the shame that I should feel. But I am a chief, and as a chief I can speak. I have the right to choose whom I would have for partner of my life, and I have chosen you.”
“Chosen me?” cried Hilton, with a look of disgust at the tall, handsome woman before him.
“Yes; because I love you,” she replied. “He knows that I love you. I read it weeks ago in his eyes.”
“Have you been a partner to this accursed outrage, Chumbley?” cried Hilton fiercely.
“No, dear boy; not to, I’m a partner in it,” said Chumbley, coolly. “Wise question that of yours. Was it likely?”
“No,” said the Princess, “he did not know; but you were great friends and companions, and I brought you both. I love you.”
He looked at her indignantly.
“I like your friend,” she continued, turning and smiling at Chumbley, “he is so good-natured and big, and manly, and strong. I always feel as if he would be a man whom I could trust.”
She held out her soft, shapely hand to him, and, acting on the impulse of the moment, Chumbley took it in his, pressed it warmly, and then raised it to his lips before it was withdrawn.
Hilton stamped his foot upon the bamboo floor, and then burst into a derisive laugh.
“Is this real, Chumbley?” he cried, “or is it part of a play?”
“I know what you mean by part of a play,” cried the Princess, whose eyes began to flash as she felt the sting of Hilton’s words. “It is no false make-believe, but real. I told you without shame, as a chief, that I love you, and that is why I brought you here.”
“I am greatly honoured by your attention, madam,” said Hilton, mockingly.
“Listen to me,” cried the Princess, “while I remind you that I am a poor oppressed woman. I have been trampled upon by my enemies, because I am a woman. I am constantly plundered; my people are cruelly treated; and soon I shall be a princess no longer, for my people will say that I am no mother and protector to them, and they will leave me.”
“And pray, madam, what is this to me?” said Hilton, coldly. “Do you forget that I have heard all this before?”
“What is it to you?” said the Inche Maida, drawing herself up, and speaking fiercely now. “Did I not tell you that I loved you? From the first day I saw you I loved you, and said you should be my lord.”
“’Pon my honour, Chumbley,” cried Hilton, “this is too ridiculous!” and he looked his indignation. “Why, what a handsome fellow I must be. Are we going back into the regions of romance?”
“Mind what you are saying,” said Chumbley, quietly, as he saw a fierce look of anger in the Inche Maida’s eyes, lit by the mocking, contemptuous manner in which Hilton listened to her words.
“Mind what I am saying? I have no patience,” he cried. “Pray,” he continued, turning to the Princess with a sneering laugh, “does your ladyship intend to marry me now you have carried me off?” The Princess did not speak. “By Jupiter! Chumbley,” cried Hilton, bursting into a forced laugh, “it must be leap-year. I had forgotten it, and the ladies are having it all their own way. May I ask again,” he cried, “does your ladyship intend to marry me?”
“Yes,” she replied, quietly, and in a slow decided way, “I do. Why do you mock at me? Is it such a hard fate to be my husband—my prince—when I say to you—see how I and my people suffer? You are a warrior—a captain—who can fight, and lead, and train men to defend themselves, a few against crowds. Here is my home—here are my lands; take all—take me and my people. Be rajah, and rule over us all. You shall have my wealth, and the rich things my people will bring you; but train them to fight so that they can protect our lands and make our enemies hold us in respect and fear. They will shrink away then like the cowards they are, as soon as they know that it is a prince who rules, and no longer a weak woman.”
“Why don’t you join me in laughing at all this, Chum, old fellow?” cried Hilton, who seemed bitter and soured by the treatment he had received from Helen.
“I don’t see anything to laugh at,” said Chumbley, sturdily, as he watched his companions intently.
“No; why does he laugh?” cried the Inche Maida, whose fierce dark eyes now grew soft with tears.
“I laugh,” cried Hilton, angrily, “because your proposals are absurd. There must be an end to all this. Let me and my friend go away at once.”
“And my people—what of them—what of mine enemies?” said the Inche Maida, almost imploringly.
“You appealed to our Government, madam, and they regretted that they could not interfere,” said Hilton. “I am honoured by your proposals, but I must say the same.”
“I do not understand quite everything you say,” she replied; “but do not mock me. I can bear everything but that. Think of what I have said, and forgive me if I have been too rough with you, for remember, if I had said ‘come to me,’—you would not have come.”
“No,” said Hilton, smiling, “I should not.”
“You see you drove me to do this thing,” said the Princess, eagerly, “and it has made your wrath hot against me; but I ask you to pardon me, my lord. See, I kneel to you for forgiveness. Can I be more humble?”
“Will you be good enough to rise, madam,” said Hilton, who was beginning to regret his former mocking way, now he saw the Inche Maida’s earnestness and trust in him; and he raised her by her hands, which clung to his entreatingly.
“Shall I retire somewhere else?” said Chumbley, in a manner that might have been taken for either serious or mocking.
“For Heaven’s sake, no, man!” cried Hilton; “stay where you are. Madam, will you be good enough to take a seat! There, that is better,” he said, seating himself near her, as, in obedience to his request, she sank upon the cushions.
“I will do whatever you wish,” she said, humbly.
“Then please remember, madam,” continued Hilton, “that you are almost an English lady, and surely you know enough of our ways to realise that you have been guilty of a most foolish act.”
“I was driven to act as I did,” she said, softly. “You know how I implored for help.”
“Yes, I know that,” said Hilton, speaking now in a tone of gentlemanly consideration for one whom he looked upon as weak and ignorant. “I am sorry you were not assisted; but now that you have had time to realise our positions, I must tell you that what you propose is impossible.”
The Princess, who had been seated in a humble, supplicating attitude, no sooner heard this last word than she sprang to her feet.
“It is not impossible!” she cried fiercely; and her eyes flashed with anger as she drew herself up to her full height.
“I am compelled to contradict you, madam,” said Hilton, also rising; “and to tell you that, even were I disposed to accept your strange offer, I could not, for I am an officer in the service of her Majesty the Queen, and I could not leave my duties, even at your command.”
“But you would have more and greater duties here,” cried the Princess. “Your people wish to improve ours. Come, then, and be chief and rajah over my children.”
“I tell you, madam, it is impossible,” said Hilton, coldly.
“I say it is not impossible,” she retorted, proudly. “Did not a brave Englishman become a rajah in Borneo, where they are people similar to ours? and is not the name of Rajah Brooke, of Sarawak, held in veneration to this day?”
Hilton uttered an impatient ejaculation, and glanced at Chumbley for help; but that gentleman was balancing himself upon his toes and gazing at the Princess.
“I was angry a minute since,” she said, smiling a very sweet smile, and she looked a very Cleopatra of the jungle. “You will not say no,” she continued, appealing to her prisoner. “I am a Princess, and once more I say boldly, what none of my people dare confess for very shame, I love you, Captain Hilton, and once again I ask you to make me your wife. Listen; you do not know how great and happy your life shall be, for your wishes shall be all obeyed, and—”
“Pray listen to me, madam!” cried Hilton, sternly, “you must know that this cannot be. But let us part friends, and no punishment shall follow this foolish escapade. So at once pray order your people to prepare a boat, that I and my friend may go.”
He turned now to Chumbley, who had thrust his hands down as far as possible into his pockets, and stood looking very stern and cold, but evidently pondering deeply upon all that had been said.
The Princess clenched her hands, and stood there with flashing eyes, gazing from one to the other, and for some moments it seemed as if she could not speak.
“No,” she cried at last, in a short, angry voice, “no boat shall take you back!”
“Then we must go back without,” said Hilton, firmly. “Now, Chumbley, this folly has gone too far. Come quickly, and use force if we are driven to it by this foolish woman’s acts!”
As he spoke he moved towards the door, and laying his hand upon the latch, he threw it open so that it struck loudly against the bamboo wall.