Part 10 (2/2)

”Ah!” It was a gasp rather than an exclamation. Stella was blindly tottering against the tent-rope, clutching vaguely for support.

The great Sikh caught her ere she fell, his own distress subdued in a flash before the urgency of her need. ”Lean on me, _mem-sahib!_” he said, deference and devotion mingling in his voice.

She accepted his help instinctively, scarcely knowing what she did, and very gently, with a woman's tenderness, he led her back into the tent.

”My _mem-sahib_ must rest,” he said. ”And I will find a woman to serve her.”

She opened her eyes with a dizzy sense of wonder. Peter had never failed before to procure anything that she wanted, but even in her extremity she had a curiously irrelevant moment of conjecture as to where he would turn in the wilderness for the commodity he so confidently mentioned.

Then, the anguish returning, she checked his motion to depart. ”No, no, Peter,” she said, commanding her voice with difficulty. ”There is no need for that. I am quite all right. But--but--tell me more! How did this happen? Why did he sleep on the mountain?”

”How should the _mem-sahib's_ servant know?” questioned Peter, gently and deferentially, as one who reasoned with a child. ”It may be that the opium of his cigar was stronger than usual. But how can I tell?”

”Opium! He never smoked opium!” Stella gazed upon him in fresh bewilderment. ”Surely--surely not!” she said, as though seeking to convince herself.

”_Mem-sahib_, how should I know?” the Indian murmured soothingly.

She became suddenly aware that further inaction was unendurable. She must see for herself. She must know the whole, dreadful truth. Though trembling from head to foot, she spoke with decision. ”Peter, go outside and wait for me! Keep that old beggar too! Don't let him go! As soon as I am dressed, we will go to--the place--and--look for him.”

She stumbled over the last words, but she spoke them bravely. Peter straightened himself, recognizing the voice of authority. With a deep salaam, he turned and pa.s.sed out, drawing the tent-flap decorously into place behind him.

And then with fevered energy, Stella dressed. Her hands moved with lightning speed though her body felt curiously weighted and unnatural.

The fantastic thought crossed her brain that it was as though she prepared herself for her own funeral.

No sound reached her from without, save only the monotonous and endless das.h.i.+ng of the torrent among its boulders. She was beginning to feel that the sound in some fas.h.i.+on expressed a curse.

When she was ready at length, she stood for a second or two to gather her strength. She still felt ill and dizzy, as though the world she knew had suddenly fallen away from her and left her struggling in unimaginable s.p.a.ce, like a swimmer in deep waters. But she conquered her weakness, and, drawing aside the tent-flap once more, she stepped forth.

The morning sun struck full upon her. It was as if the whole earth rushed to meet her in a riot of rejoicing; but she was in some fas.h.i.+on outside and beyond it all. The glow could not reach her.

With a sharp sense of revulsion, she saw the deformed man squatting close to her, his _chuddah_-draped head lodged upon his knees. He did not stir at her coming though she felt convinced that he was aware of her, aware probably of everything that pa.s.sed within a considerable radius of his disreputable person. His dark face, lined and dirty, half-covered with ragged black hair that ended in a long thin wisp like a goat's beard on his shrunken chest, was still turned to the east as though challenging the sun that was smiting a swift course through the heavens as if with a flaming sword. The simile rushed through her mind unbidden. Where would she be--what would have happened to her--by the time that sword was sheathed?

She conquered her repulsion and approached the man. As she did so, Peter glided silently up like a faithful watch-dog and took his place at her right hand. It was typical of the position he was to occupy in the days that were coming.

Within a pace or two of the huddled figure, Stella stopped. He had not moved. It was evident that he was so rapt in meditation that her presence at that moment was no more to him than that of an insect crawling across his path. His eyes, red-rimmed, startlingly bright, still challenged the coming day. His whole expression was so grimly aloof, so sternly unsympathetic, that she hesitated to disturb him.

Humbly Peter came to her a.s.sistance. ”May I be allowed to speak to him, _mem-sahib?_” he asked.

She turned to him thankfully. ”Yes, tell him what I want!”

Peter placed himself in front of the stranger. ”The n.o.ble lady desires your service,” he said. ”Her gracious excellency is waiting.”

A quiver went through the crouching form. He seemed to awake, his mind returning as it were from a far distance. He turned his head, and Stella saw that he was not blind. For his eyes took her in, for the moment appraised her. Then with ungainly, tortoiselike movements, he arose.

”I am her excellency's servant,” he said, in hollow, quavering accents.

”I live or die at her most gracious command.”

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