Presently she stepped into the cell, and gently closed the door. Then, holding the light above her head, she surveyed the young officer.
“I will not ask if you come here as a friend,” said Harper; “your movements proclaim that, but I may, at least, ask why you come, and why I, a stranger, should have aroused an interest in you?”
“I come to save you,” she answered, in a voice that was clear and soft, but bore traces of inward emotion. “In the Hall of Audience I tried to warn you that you were in danger. I would have told you that they intended to kill you if I had had the chance. They would have slain you then, but they had been waiting for the appearance of the soldiers from Meerut, for, until they came, it was not known whether the rising there had succeeded or not. You were to fall with the rest of your countrymen; but, at the risk of my own life, I come to save you.”
“And why?” he asked, drawing nearer to her.
“I am a woman,” she answered, while a deep flush spread over her face, and her bosom heaved as if with some suppressed passion.
He waited for her to continue, but she remained silent.
“You are a woman, fair and beautiful,” he said; “and I am sure your heart is kind and good.”
“Heart!” she cried. “Ah! would that it had turned to stone. But it throbs with passionate delight, and your words reach it until its pulsations quicken, and I know, alas, that I am a woman!”
She drooped her head, and Harper fancied that the long lashes of her eyes were moist with tears.
“You speak in sorrow as you speak in riddles,” he said. “If I can soothe away the one, how gladly will I do so; but I must also ask you to explain the other. You are an utter stranger to me, and I do not even know your name.”