The syces began saddling the horses again immediately, Dr Dacre arose with a good deal of sadness, and unwound himself from his cloak, Mirza Shaw put up his sword and led up Mr Watts’ beast for him to mount, and Mr Fraser approached softly the spot where I was, intending to awake me gently.
“What, my dear, awake? and I recommended you to rest!” he cried.
“Excellent, sir!” cried Mr Watts. “You might have been married ten years, Mr Fraser.”
“Save that then he would scarce have looked for his lady to obey him, sir,” says Mr Ranger; but I paid no heed to their raillery.
“Oh, dear sir,” I cried, throwing myself into Mr Fraser’s arms, “how could I sleep when I imagined each instant that you was fallen into the enemy’s hands?” and the remembrance of my frightful imaginations overpowering me, I burst into a passion of tears and sobs, which I endeavoured in vain to check.
“My dearest creature,” said Mr Fraser at last, “these transports will endanger all our lives if you don’t moderate ’em. Come, that’s my brave girl! But you en’t fit to ride any further to-night.”
“Pray, Mr Fraser, do you purpose settling down for life in this patch of jungul?” cried Mr Watts, who was waiting impatiently. “No man can sympathise more heartily with your lady than I do, but delay will mean her destruction as well as ours.”
Mr Fraser made no further protestation, but when Mr Ranger approached to assist me to mount, he gave him a sign, and together they lifted me to the saddle before my husband, so that he could hold me with his left arm, and still have his right at liberty. Mr Watts murmured a little, representing that in the event of a fight Mr Fraser would find himself sorely encumbered, but he was good-humoured enough, and we rode out of the wood. Before we had gone very far, Mr Ranger declared that we were approaching Augadeep, and the speed of the horses was checked. The road was happily deep in dust, so that there was no sound made, and we approached the village in dead silence, the ashes of expiring watch-fires alone showing where the Nabob’s troops were encamped. And now I am about to record a confession that will force my Amelia to despise me, but not more heartily than I despise myself. As we passed between the watch-fires to right and to left, there came upon me the most horrid temptation imaginable to shriek aloud. I tried to reason with myself, in vain; I felt that I must scream, although I knew that all our lives would be the forfeit. Sure it was a heavenly inspiration that saved me, for I seized my handkerchief and stuffed it into my mouth with all my strength. “At least there’ll be no sound now, even if I should scream,” I said to myself, and then I must have swooned, for I knew no more until I found myself laid flat on a pile of cloaks in a small boat, with Mr Fraser endeavouring to force some spirit between my teeth. I wondered in a foolish sort of style whether he would succeed in getting it down, but never thought of assisting him in any way, even by opening my mouth, until he ceased his efforts and turned with a hopeless air to Mr Watts, who, with a pistol in one hand and t’other on his sword, was watching the black men that were rowing.
“’Tis too late, sir!” said Mr Fraser, heavily.
“What’s too late, sir?” I asked him, finding my tongue all of a sudden, and Mr Watts broke into a loud laugh, which he sought anxiously to check.