CHAPTER XLIII.
After witnessing the gradual wasting and feverish excitement of her young mistress for some weeks, the faithful Meeran could no longer bear to see her wretched condition. She knew how devotedly Kasim Ali loved her, and she determined, as her last resource, to make an appeal to his generosity, if not to his love, to implore him to rescue her from the condition she was in, and to assist her to escape, or at once take her under his roof.
It was late in the evening before that on which the English arrived before the fort, that she betook herself to Kasim’s abode. She had openly declared her intention to Ameena; indeed she had spoken to her of it for days before, and endeavoured gradually to prepare her to abandon the Khan and fly to her home—distant though it was—or to seek at once the protection of the Patél. His mother too, whose village, though many days’ journey distant, she thought it possible she might be able to reach, and she felt assured would receive her, after resting there for a while, she could pursue her journey to Hyderabad; and Ameena timidly, distrustfully, and yet anxiously, had at last given permission to her to go and ascertain if it were possible.
Meeran had placed Zoolficar upon the watch to note the return of the young Patél from his tour of duty to rest for the night; and when she was apprised of that, she bade her young mistress farewell for the while, and telling her to be of good cheer, that she would soon return with joyful news, she departed.
Zoolfoo awaited her without, and in a few minutes they had arrived at the Patél’s abode. Anxiously they looked around, lest any one should observe them, but there was only one woman at some distance, whom they hardly heeded; they opened the door of the court-yard, which they found unfastened, and leaving it in the same state (for they knew not why it was opened), they passed on to the Patél. He was wearied with his day’s attendance on the Sultaun, and lay reclining on his carpet, reading as usual, which was a solace to him, after the empty compliment, the lies, the inflated vanity of the Sultaun’s words, and more frequently of late his querulous remarks and violent bursts of passion. They hesitated for a minute; but he had heard the noise in the verandah, and, supposing it to be his servants, desired them to enter.
‘It is I, Khodawund,’ said Zoolfoo, ‘and I have brought my sister—she would speak with thee.’
‘Holy Prophet! what hath happened?’ cried the young man, starting up in great agitation; ‘she is not worse?’
‘No, my lord; she is, praise be to Alla! better,’ answered Meeran; ‘I think her more cheerful than she hath been for many days. She arose to the evening prayer and walked about the court-yard; the wind was cool, and refreshed her. But ah! Patél, she is not what she was;’ and Meeran burst into tears.
‘I know, nurse; I know she is not; thy brother here hath daily brought me word of her—news which Alla, who sees my heart, knows that I think on day and night; in my dreams she is before me, in my waking thoughts I see her, sometimes lovely as when I first beheld her, and now dim-eyed and wasted. Alas! that such should be her destiny; alas! that so fair a flower should wither under the blighting chill of neglect. Would to Alla I could aid her! my life, my heart’s blood should be hers if she—’
‘I knew it! I knew it!’ cried the nurse, in an ecstasy of delight, as she had listened to the young man, and now suddenly interrupted him; ‘I knew it! Thou canst aid her, Patél Sahib—thou canst save her, O Jemadar, and thou wilt! thou wilt!’ And she cast herself at his feet and sobbed aloud.