Onrai alone, of all the party, after going onto the terrace, seemed to be worried over the storm. He had gone to one end of the terrace, and now stood looking intently at the black mass of clouds which were rolling on, coming nearer and nearer, and reaching out huge, dark arms toward the earth. He was muttering in the strange tongue of his people:
“An omen. Is our great God angry? Have my people failed in their duties? Have we neglected our work? Have we treated lightly our teachings? No; but our God is great. He sees all things, and goes deep into the hearts of his people, and he knows even if they contemplate doing wrong. Oh!——” Onrai raises his hand to his forehead, and pressing it tightly against his throbbing temples, he staggers and almost falls.
“Can this thing be?” he gasped. “Is this a warning to me, the King of the Land of On? Is this to show me that God knows my sinful thoughts and would check them before it is forever too late? Oh, my God, spare me!” he cries, and sinks into one of the onyx chairs near him. His powerful frame shook like an aspen leaf; his breath came in gasps; his hands twitched nervously; his eyes almost started from their sockets as he gazed on the black clouds, which seemed to engulf him. Unable to look upon the fearful sight any longer, he sprung to his feet, and shading his eyes with his hand as if to hide from view those fearful clouds, he staggered towards the entrance. He struck something as he hurried forward, and started back frightened. Looking up he saw that it was Enola, and raising his hand as if to warn her back, he said:
“You, too? Have you come to accuse me at this moment? Could you not have spared me?”
Onrai again started for the entrance, but Enola noticing the pained look in his face, and being totally at a loss to know why he should address her in this manner, caught him by the light tunic as he was passing her. He stopped and looked at her with frightened eyes.
“Onrai,” said Enola, “don’t look at me in that way. How have I offended you? Tell me, is it I or one of my people?”
Onrai looked at her, his heroic figure standing erect, his shoulders thrown back as if to defy the influence which Enola was exerting over him. But his face was deathly pale and his hands clutched nervously as they hung by his side; his eye never flinched, however, as he looked at her.
“Onrai, do not look at me so,” said Enola, stepping back, growing afraid of that unbending figure and steely gaze.
“What have I done?” she continued. “I come to seek you to-night to thank you for the happy, happy day which you have given me; for having suggested this pleasant journey. The beautiful music of the evening made me forget for a time this duty, but I thought of it as I retired to my apartment and was glad of the opportunity which the storm afforded me to thank you yet to-night. My heart was light as I came from the villa, expecting to find that great, noble Onrai glad to see me and ready to hear my thanks, but I find him excited and nervous, and when he sees me he speaks as I never heard him speak before. Tell me, oh, tell me, Onrai, what have I done?”
Enola stopped near the entrance and waited for Onrai’s answer.