“Your English wooers’ hearts are like ice, and their love is cold; while that of a Malay, under his calm, quiet demeanour, glows like fire, and once kindled, is never more extinct. Do you hear me, Helen? Once you set it burning with the light of love, his heart flames until it ceases to beat. There, why be angry with me, and try to wither me with those cruel looks? I took you because you made me love you; and as you did make me love you, I shall never believe that you are anything but glad that I forced you to be my wife.”
“Be your wife?” she cried, passionately, in spite of her determination not to speak. “I would sooner die!”
“Yes,” he replied with a contemptuous laugh, “that is what all women say. The girls who waited upon you said just the same. They told me they hated me, and ended by hanging upon my neck and calling me husband and their own. Tell me you hate me!” he cried, with his dark eyes seeming to flash; “tell me you will have me killed for what I have done—tell me you will never look upon my face again, and make those beautiful eyes dart anger at me. It makes me happier than I can tell you, for I know that the storm will pass away; and when the lightning of your eyes and their rain of tears have gone, the sunshine of your love will gladden my heart. Helen, I have waited for you—oh, so long!”
He took another step or two forward, and was about to catch her hand in his, but she avoided his touch and fled to the window.
“Come a step nearer to me,” she panted, her face convulsed with dread, “and I will call for help.”
“Nonsense!” he said, with a smile. “Why should you call? Is it for the birds to hear? The tigers will not awaken till ’tis night. Why should you weary yourself and hurt that sweet-tuned throat? Call for help? Who would hear you call?”
“Your people!” she panted, as her dread increased. “They are here below!”
“Yes,” he said, “they are here below and about the place, but they are deaf. You forget that I am not the poor Malay, looked down upon with disdain by your proud English friends, but Prince and Rajah. You would make my servants and my slaves hear, but not one would stir. You do not understand my power, Helen—the power of the man you scorned! Should one of my people dare to come here ere I summoned him, he would die!”
“It is not true!” cried Helen, with spirit. “Knowing who I am, they would come, and if I appealed to them, protect me.”
Murad laughed a contemptuous, cynical laugh.