Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-07-02

the nandS that were stretched toward
him: only the eyes We're alive with an UNI
quenchable fire which burned upon him
with power that was unearthly. She
staggered few steps and then sank
slowly to his feet, her hands still out
stretched. He knelt down and supported
the sinking head upon his shoulder.
Who art thou?" he whispered In Hin
dustani. Where hast thou come from?
Tell me thy history
A look of intense pain passed over her
features. Slowly and with q great effort
her lips parted.
II am English-let me speak in English.
have only a few minutes-I am dying"
He looked about him, seeking something
with which to moisten her dry lips. but
she chung to him with an incredible
strength
mo. no. must speak with you. Up to
now | have lived in an awful nightmare
amid CHASTITY phantoms who pursued and
tortured me. But when I heard your
voice-when / heard you give that order.
/ awoke. The dreams vanished, l heard
and understood-and remembered.' She
drew herself upright and for a moment
spoke with penetrating clearness. Not
In half an hour-never. Withdraw that
order! If you go against them you are
accursed. Lay down your arms You
must-you know you must! You dare
not" She chung to his arm and her
eyes seemed to burn their way into his
very soul. Il tell you-to turn traitor is
to inherit an endless hell"
"A traitor,'' he echoed. Something
clutched at his heart a sort of numb
suspense, which became electrified as he
saw new expression flash into her face.
Eyes, traitor" she whispered. THAT
was what 1 was. I was Englsh-yes,
English In spite of all. but in my bitter
ness l turned from my people. I let my
self be taken alive. I would not share
the fate Of those who had once been dear
to me- My whole life has been the pun
ishment. They tortured me and then
came the dreams-the awful hideous
dreams. I was always looking for you,
and Knocked at me- Only one man did
not laugh" her voice grew doubtful
and hesitating. as though she were grop
ing in the shadows of her memory HE
did not laugh. He promised to help me-
but he never came again-and / died
yes, / died-but / saw your face. / heard
your voice-and l came back from death
to save your Once more her vision
cleared and her voice grew steadier Go
back to them! They are your friends. If
you do not go. you will break your heart
AS mine is broken Swear to me-you
must, BECAUSE
He bent closer to her to catch every
sound that fell from her lips His pulses
were beating with a suffocating violence.
Somewhere a veil was lifting. 1t was
as if the sunlight We're at last breaking
through mist Of strange dreams. strange
longings. strange forebodings. The con-
throughout his life grew clearer.
"Because-?" he whispered.
But she did not answer. Her head was
thrown back Her open eyes were fixed
intently on his face. Suddenly she smiled.
1t was a smile that chilled his blood with
its hdeous distortion. And yet behind 1t
lurked the possibility of a long-lost
beauty and sweetness.
Steven she whispered. "Steven!'
Closer and closer she drew his face to
hers Her Icy lips rested on his cheek.
Pity and a strange. as yet uniformed.
foreboding made him accept that dying
| caress and speak to her with an urgent,
pleading gentleness.
You have something to tell me- he
| murmured. something l must know. Tell
me before 1t is too late
But her eyes had closed and she did
not answer him.
Rouse yourself-' he insisted. Rouse
YOURSELF
1t seemed to him that she smiled. Her
face had undergone a change. 1t was
younger. and in the Pickering light his
imagination frightened it with the glories
whose dim traces still touched the bag
gard, emaciated features. One last time
her eyes opened and she looked at him.
The frenzy of despair was gone. He felt
that she was looking beyond him to a fu-
ture he could not see.
go back she whispered. Go back"
He pressed her to him. seeking to pour
something of his own seething vitality
1ntO neT dying frame. win ner lie the
threads of his fate seemed to be slipping
through his fingers
Help met he implored. do not leave
men
But he knew that she would never an
swer. She lay heavy in his arms and the
hand that clasped his relaxed and fell
with a soft thud upon the marble. He
rose to his feet and stood looking down
upon her. 1t was not the first time he
had seen death. In these last weeks he
hod II in, oil nc II
revolving forms: but none had moved
him, awed him as this did. He knew that
she had once been beautiful. Who had
made her suffer till only a shadow of that
beauty remained? What had she endured?
Who was she? What did she know of
him? Why did she call him by a name
which rang In his ears with a vague
familiarity? What was 1t in her poor
dead face which stirred in him a memory
which had no date nor place In his life?
Outside he heard the uneasy stirring of
the thousands who awaited him. He
looked up and through the open windows
saw the campfires and that one dark
spot which was to be swept clear of all
hut death. What had she said? Go
back! Lay down your arms! You must
you know you must! To turn traitor is to
inherit an endless hell!'' A traitor?
traitor to whom-to what? To some blind
instinct that had called him in those
English voices. that had beaten out an
answering cry OF thankfulness from his
heart when their cheers proclaimed his
own defeat?
A soft step reused him from his trou-
bled thoughts. He looked up and saw a
servant standing In the curtained door
way. The mans eyes were fixed on the
outstretched figure at NehaPs feet, and
there was an expression on the dark face
so full of fear and horror that the rajah
involuntarily drew back.
who was this woman" he demanded.
Whence comes she?''
Lord Sahib, she was a mad woman
whom the Lord Behar Singh kept out Of
mercy. She must have escaped her
/ prison. More ! know not
The man was trembling as though In
| the shadows there lurked a hidden.
threatening danger, and Nehal turned
aside with a gesture Of desperate i'm
| patience.
Why hast thou come before the timer"
he asked.
Lord Sahib. outside there are two Eng
lish prisoners. They demand to be brought
before thee. What is thy will?"
Bring them hither.'
Nehal Singh stood where the bowling
servant left him. at the side Of the poor
dead woman. his hands crossed upon his
sword hilt, his eyes fixed on the parted
curtains. There he waited motionIess
passive. as a man waits who knows that
he has become the tool of destiny.
A moment later, Beatrice stood before
him.
cTo be continued tomorrow)