'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.
[CHAPTER XLV]
NEWS OF MEERUT—GENERAL ELTON FINDS A NEW SPHERE
The message from the rajah and Mrs. Lyster's arrival did, as I have said, revive the drooping spirits of the ladies in Gumilcund; but many weary days and nights were destined to go by before they could receive certain news of their friends. In the meantime the posts, which ran now with tolerable regularity, brought them a variety of intelligence—some of it depressing; but, for the most part, tending to hope. That, though the North-West had failed in preparedness for the crisis, the gallant rulers of the Punjaub had not only held their own, but were pouring down reinforcements to the army before Delhi, while from Bombay, Calcutta and Allahabad men and munitions of war were being marched up country, Chunder Singh told them with exultation. Delhi, he was sure, would not long hold out, and then, as he too sanguinely believed, the insurrection would be at an end.