“It will be of interest to his lady, best known to me as the Countess di Cabota, to learn that recently, while on a journey to the Nasirabad mission, I turned aside and visited the deserted city of Fatehpur-Sikri, built, as you know, by Akbar. In Queen Mariam’s house I found wall-paintings representing the Annunciation, and other scenes in the history of Our Lord and His Blessed Mother, thus proving that the unhappy woman, long since dead, was an apostate. May she have found grace and repentance even at the foot of the throne. It would be a great delight to me if I could win Nur Mahal to the faith. She and Jahangir are ready enough to reason the matter, but they remain obdurate. I trust yet to prevail.”
The Franciscan then branched off into such trading information as he thought might be useful to them or their friends in the city of London, and concluded by expressing the hope that, if ever he returned to Europe, they might all meet; though, said he, “I expect little more than that my own bones shall rest in the small graveyard we have established at no great distance from Dilkusha.”
Nellie, who had heard the letter when it reached her husband, listened to it again while he read it to Roger and Lady Sainton.
“What an influence Nur Mahal seems to exert on all who meet her!” she said, thoughtfully, when Walter laid down the last closely written sheet.
“Aye, a witch, and a bonny one at that!” muttered Roger.
“Was she really so beautiful?” asked Nellie, and Walter felt that her eyes were on him though her question was addressed generally.
“She was so beautiful,” he said, caressing her fair head with a loving hand, “that once, when I wished to be complimentary, I told here there was only one prettier woman in the world, to my thinking, and her name was Nellie Roe.”
“Gad! Was that what you said to her in the field of chick-peas?” cried Roger.
“Some words to that effect.”
“But no woman would take that as a compliment,” said Nellie, dubiously.