“There,” he said, “I have done. Your bearers are coming. I will go now, and return soon. Come, you are a soldier, and must not repine at your fate. Give me your hand, and accept your fall as a soldier should. Rest and be patient. Good-bye, more than ever my friend.”
I believe I pressed his hand in return as he held it in his, and laid his left upon my brow, smiling down at me. Then in a low whisper he said, as softly as a woman could have spoken—
“You are weak, and need sleep.” He drew his hand over my eyes, and they closed at his touch, a feeling of exhaustion made me yield, my will seeming to be gone, and when I opened them again, Salaman was kneeling by me, waiting with two of the attendants standing near holding trays of food. “Have I been asleep?” I said. “Yes, my lord. Long hours.”
“And the rajah? Did he come, or was it a dream?” I added to myself.
“The great rajah came, and went while my lord slept. It is time he ate and drank, for he is still weak.”
“Yes,” I replied, as I recalled all that had passed—“so weak, so very weak, that this man seems to master even my very will.”
Chapter Thirty Three.
The doctor came the next day, and did not seem satisfied; the fact being that, on awakening, my mind was all on the fret. For I was always face to face with the thought of what had become of my mother and sister at Nussoor. Of course I sorrowed, too, about my father’s fate; but I was not so anxious about him. He was a soldier, with some hundreds of trusty Englishmen at his back, and I knew that he would be ready to meet any difficulties.