Part 31 (1/2)

”Because it was said. And the Missie Baba's heart will be full of the Sahib, for he is like a G.o.d.”

”Is the Gulab jealous of the Missie Baba?” Barlow asked mundanely, almost out of confusion.

”No, Sahib, because--because one is not jealous of a princess; because that is to question the ways of the G.o.ds. If I had been an Englay and he loved me, and the Missie Baba claimed him, Bootea would kill her.”

This was said with the simple conviction of a child uttering a weird threat, but Barlow s.h.i.+vered.

”And now, Gulab,” he persisted, ”if you thought I loved you would you kill the Missie Baba?”

”No, Sahib, because it is Bootea's fault. It can't be. It is permitted to Bootea to love the Sahib, but at the shrine Omkar will take that sin and all the other sins away when she makes sacrifice--”

”What sacrifice, Gulab?”

”Such as we make to the G.o.ds, Sahib.”

Then something curious happened. The girl broke, she clung to Barlow convulsively; sobs choked her.

He clasped her tight and laid his cheek against hers soothingly, and said, ”Gulab, what is it? Don't go to the Shrine of Omkar. Come with me to your people at Chunda, and if you do not want to remain with them I will have it arranged, through the Resident, that the British will reward you with protection. You have done the British Raj a great service.”

”No, Sahib.” The girl drew herself erect, so that her eyes gazed into Barlow's, They were luminous with an intensity of resolve. ”Let Bootea speak what is in her heart, and be not offended; it is necessary.

There is, at the end of the journey the place that is called _jahannam_ (h.e.l.l) for Bootea. The Nana Sahib waits like a tiger crouched by a pool at night for the coming of a stag to drink.”

”The Resident will protect you against the Mahratta,” Barlow declared.

”Bootea could do that,” and in her small hand there gleamed in the moonlight the sheen of her dagger blade. She thrust it back into her belt.

”What then do you fear, Gulab?” he queried.

”The Sahib.”

”_Me_, Gulab?”

”Yes, Khudawand. To see you and not be permitted to hear your voice, nor feel your hand upon my face, would be worse than sacrifice. Bootea would rather die, slip off into death with the goodness, the sweetness of to-night upon her soul. There, where the Sahib would be, Bootea's heart would be full of evil, the evil of craving for him. No, this is the end, and Bootea will make offering of thanks--marigolds and a cocoanut to Omkar, and sprinkle attar upon his shrine in thankfulness for the joy of the Sahib's presence. It is said!” and the girl nestled down against Barlow's breast again as though she had gone to sleep in content.

But he groaned inwardly: there was something of dread in his heart, her resignation was so deep--suggesting an utter giving up, a helplessness.

She had named sacrifice; the word rang ominously in his mind, beating at his fears. And yet, what she had said was philosophy--wise; a something that had been worded, perhaps differently, for a million years; the brave acceptance of Fate's decree--something that always triumphed over the weak longings of humans.

CHAPTER XXIX

Now they could see the wide silver ribbon of Mother Narbudda lying serene and placid in the moonlight, in the centre of the river's wide flow the gloomy rock embrasures of Mandhatta Island. Where it towered upward in cliffs and coned hills the summit showed the flickering lights of many temples, and like the sing of a storm through giant trees there floated on the night wind the sound of many voices, and the beating of drums, and the imperious call of horns and conch-sh.e.l.ls.

They came upon the _tonga_ waiting by the roadside, and Barlow, thrusting back the covering from the girl's face said: ”Now, Gulab, I will lift you down. We must find a place in the village beyond for you to rest to-night; I, too, will remain there and in the morning we will make our salaams.”

Then he drew her face to his and kissed her.

He slipped from the saddle and lifted the girl down, carrying her in his arms to the _tonga_.

As they neared the village that was situated on the flat land that swept back from the Narbudda in a wide plain, and nestled against the river bank, they were swept into a crowd such as would be encountered on a trip to the Derby. The road was thronged with people, and the village itself, from which a bridge reached to the Island of Mandhatta, was a town in holiday attire, for to the Hindus the _mela_ of Omkar was a union of festivity and devotion.