“Expect? I don’t expect anything of him at all. But will you tell me that if Sir Harry Lennox was here, there would nothing be done?”
“That old ruffian? Oh, I dare say he’d be capable——”
“You may call him all the names you like, but I tell you he would have hanged that murderer the other day, if it had been a Khan upon his throne. And to-day he’d have ridden up to the Fort and broken the gates down, and let all the women out.”
“And a nice thing that would be! Try to borrow a little common-sense, my dear, even if you don’t possess any. The Fort is full of women, and you talk calmly of turning ’em all out of doors—penniless, homeless, accustomed to a luxurious existence! Take my word for it, they wouldn’t thank you! A few might be silly enough to accept the offer of freedom, but they would precious soon come begging to be let in again. They have everything women can want—at any rate, these women—good food, fine clothes——”
“Food and clothes!” scornfully. “Why, I have food and clothes!”
“And ain’t you happy, pray?”
“I am the most miserable woman alive!” with tremendous emphasis and absolute—if transitory—conviction. For once Richard Ambrose was staggered. Astonishment, remorse, resentment, incredulity—she read them all in his face for one moment. Then he recovered himself.
“Pooh, pooh, my dear! you exaggerate,” he said sharply.
CHAPTER IV.
A LUCKLESS DAY.
Morning brought—if not counsel—a considerable measure of cheerfulness to Eveleen. To her buoyant temperament protracted gloom was impossible, and her husband smiled to remember his momentary alarm. In her full enjoyment of the happiness she had for ever disclaimed, she was as shallow as any of the native women whose cause she had championed. Unfortunately he could not know what was the root of her pleasurable excitement this morning. His command to avoid the villages had reminded her of a plan for continuing Bajazet’s education that had occurred to her when riding with Sir Dugald Haigh one evening—but had been carefully concealed from that prudent young man. So far she had never ridden what she delighted to call “my Arab” when in company with others. She meant the accomplishments of her little steed to burst proudly on the men who had laughed at him and slandered his ancestry. Colonel Bayard had had some jumps put up for her in the compound, and encouraged her in many unsuccessful attempts to take Bajazet over them with the assurance that your true Arab was never a good jumper. Much practice had at length enabled her to get him over them after a fashion, and now she wished to try him over water. The Resident himself was her companion on the early morning ride—a parting compliment, since he was leaving by the up-river steamer later in the day; and as he was a sound, rather than an adventurous horseman, she found it decidedly dull, its decorum redeemed only by the romantic wildness of the escort of Khemistan Horse. Her time came when he and Richard were safely at work in the office, and she could start out again on Bajazet, attended by the meek syce and an orderly of satisfactorily brigandish appearance called Shab-ud-din. They rode out beyond the belt of gardens surrounding the city, so far that Shab-ud-din began to be anxious, and tried to warn her of something. He knew no English, the syce very little, and Eveleen about as little Persian, but their efforts towards mutual comprehension were assisted by the sound and vibration of heavy guns not far off, and she understood that the Khans’ artillery was practising somewhere in this direction. Her attendants were satisfied when she turned aside towards the river again, though they did not seem quite happy when she reached her goal. The country out here was a kind of chessboard, cut up in all directions by irrigation canals, and she had marked one which seemed exactly suited to her purpose. Deep and wide where it left the river, it parted with so much water to smaller canals on either side that at the point she had chosen it was a mere trickle between quite manageable banks. Bajazet did not appear to like it at first—perhaps to his desert-descended mind water was something to be respected rather than leapt over—but after she had dismounted and led him across once or twice, he began to enter into the idea, and his mistress flattered him with the assurance that he was a great little horse indeed.