“So you are dead to them,” he said, quietly. “Helen Perowne, the beautiful English girl, is no more, and in her place lives the Malay princess I see before me now. Ah, Helen, no one would know you. It is only I who have the knowledge of the change. What is it to be—my honoured wife or slave?”
“It is horrible!” thought Helen, as now she realised more fully the extent of the iniquitous plot of which she had been made the victim. By Murad’s words the hopes of succour she had nurtured had been swept one by one away, for she did not doubt him in the least, but felt her heart sink as she realised how helpless her position was, for his words seemed to carry truth with them, and she knew that she alone was to blame.
Then she started violently, and shrank back towards the wall, for he had taken a step or two towards her and stretched out his hands.
Volume Two—Chapter Twenty Nine.
At Bay.
The Rajah stopped when Helen shrank away, as if he did not wish to alarm her unduly.
“Why do you shrink from me?” he said, with a laugh. “You were not so timid when I talked with you after dinner, and you invited me with smiles to stay by your side. Did you think when you began to play with my love that it was of the same cold stuff as that of your poor, weak English wooers?”
Helen made no reply, but gazed at him watchfully, meaning to elude his grasp and run to the door should he approach her again.