[CHAPTER XXXII]
NO NEWS
That was Lucy's last piece of excitement for some considerable time. When, having been carried back to the palace, she fell weeping into the arms of her friends, there began for her and the others a life of the most bewildering monotony. A part of the palace, consisting of a small pillared hall, and two or three sleeping apartments, with the shaded alley in which Chunder Singh and Lutfullah had met them first, and the rajah's summer-house were allotted to them. Day after day, with clock-like regularity, a liberal provision of meats and drinks, water to their hearts' desire, fresh garments, sweetmeats, and books were brought to them. They had everything, in fact, but that for which they craved the most—news.
Chunder Singh and Lutfullah went to see them occasionally, and sent morning and night to inquire after their health. Mr. Montgomery, the Resident, paid them periodical visits, but there was no word of the rajah.
Mysterious to the ladies, to Aglaia, to whom her deliverer was everything, this sudden disappearance was a shock as cruel as it was inexplicable. Where had her Daddy-Tom gone? she would ask piteously. Why hadn't he said good-bye to her? Couldn't he send her a letter if he liked? Questions which no one, not even the wise Chunder Singh, could answer. Had it not been for baby Dick, who was one of the most restless of little persons, she would have suffered even more severely. In the new healthy atmosphere that surrounded him, Dick had recovered his vigour. The wizened little face was filling up. Roses and dimples were asserting their rights. The long pent-up limbs were expanding luxuriously in all sorts of joyous activities, which Aglaia, who had begun by being his slave, was bound to share. Never was a merrier or a more irrepressible little man than Dick.
Sometimes, worn out by games and laughter, he would fall asleep, and then Aglaia would steal quietly to the lattice, and, the tears dropping from her eyes, would watch and watch. 'Oh! if he would only come—if he would only come!'
'Everyone goes away,' she said to Lucy one day. 'I wonder why?'
'I don't know, dear,' said Lucy, who was becoming more and more melancholy. 'I suppose they must.'
'He needn't,' said Aglaia proudly. 'He is the master of everyone here.'