Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, September 16, 1899, Page 6

- CHAPTER XII—(Continued.) “You would then be wrong, John Malcolm; for I swear to you those who have brought you here, have but obeyed my commands.” “Obeyed you! But why this vio- lence toward a man who sat yesterday at your table, and whom you called your friend?’ am about to tell you. It was to 'y your most cherished wish.’ fy most cherished wish?” repeated an. “I hear you, madame, but ail to understand you.” “Rest quiet. I will explain. Since you have been in India, John Malcolm —since you have assumed the duties of civilian for the Presidence of Benares —you have occupied your life in the | extended her hand to the multitude. pursuit of one idea.” “And that?” “Was th At any price, and by e@ny me u wished to penetrate a} terrible et, and each day the ob-j Jects of your pursuit eluded you. You pursued a phantom. The phantom es- ¢eaped you. Is it not true?” “It is true.” “Well, knowing your dream, I wished you to realize it. The end so ardently | desired retreated before you. I wished —in one bound—to lead you to that en asked the civilian— goa “what is it ~The Sons of Bowhanie, grave god- dess of murder and extermination,” r sumed the princess, “these mysterious | Thugs, who have sworn an oath to ef- | face from the dust of India the foot- RF of the last Englishman; al hausigars, cunning as the serpent. and as deadly—these are the invisible foes you have sought in vain. I am about to show them to you, face to face, and not only them, but their chiefs and their queen.” John Malcolm was breathless. n a loud tone, Djella continued: re is the Rajah Doorgal Sahib; s Azkbar; here the Fakir Souni- here Hol here, Djaal; and s reigning over all, the supreme ; mistress—she before whom all bow, and who holds all in her hand—I—the Djellat” ” cried John Malcolm, That is why you are here. nanks, madame,” replied the civil- _ With the bravery that never de- heroic hearts in a desperate cri- You have given me the light. It Now that I “You? sis. ehall not be extinguished. know, I shall not forget.” “To remember, one must live!’ cried Djella; “and your moments are nun bered!” “T tell you that justice shall be done.” Djella shrugged her shoulders. “Fool!” she murmured. “Fool, who are about to die and speak of justice!” “If not mine, it will be the justice of God.” “It is our god who commands your death.” “And mine who will know how to avenge it.” “We defy His vengeance.” “What matters your defiance? When the day and the hour comes, He will know where to strike.” “We shall see.” ‘Then, addressing the Hindoos, the pr s added: “Our secrets must be inviolate. Mis- fortune to whomsoever shall strive to penetrate the secrets of India! He will perish, as this man is about to perish. Children of Bowhanie, do your duty!” Two Hindoos adveanced from the crowd and approached the civilian. One held a lasso; the other was armed with a dagger. “Ah, accursed ones!” he cried, with the rage of a brave man cowardly as- gailed. “I am without arms, but I will Gefend myself. I will struggle against you with my nails, with my teeth, as 6truggles the tiger surrounded by jack- “And, saying these words, John Mal- eolm, calling up all his energy, gather- ‘mg together all his forces, knowing well that he must die, but determining fo sell life dearly, sprang on the one of the two Hindoos who held the dagger. Heroic and vain struggle. The second Hindoo, throwing the lasso about his body, deprived him of the use of his arms and paralyzed his motions, “Cowards!” he cried—“oh, the cow- ards! the cowards!” Impassive and haughty, Djella looked en at this frightful scene. “Time passes!” she cried, in an impe- gicus tone. “Strike!” ‘The second Hindoo approached Sir John, whom each second, the lasso drawn more tightly, rendered more helpless, not only to defend himself, but to move, and, thrusting the dagger full into his breast, he let it stick there. “Oh, my son! my son!” moaned the @ivilian, in his death agony. All was ended. The point of the dag- ger had penetrated the heart. A drop f blood issued from the mouth of the unhappy father, who fell in the long a whose flexible stems met over is dead body. A sudden movement ran through the gpectators to this terrible spectacle, even as a field of wheat is stirred by the passing breeze; but this movement ex] neither horror nor remorse. It was the joy of victory. What mat- tered a.crime more or less to this horde of fierce fanatics and assassins? To them John Malcolm’s corpse meant one enemy the less. Djella turned toward Saugor. “Now,” she said, “the papers?’ “Here, mistress,” answered the Hin- doo, handing the princess several files of documents taken from the desk of the civilian. “Near his dead body we will burn the evidence of his strength through which he hoped to work our ruin!” she cried, and began to rapidly unfold and read the sheets, now and then uttering aloud certain phrases or interpolating them with remarks of her own. “He? was on our track. Truly, this man pos- sessed the eyes of the lynx. He could pierce the densest blackness. For proof —read here.” ; She read, in a loud yoice, the follow- ng: . “A formidable association has sworn the annihilation of the East India com- pany: The hand which strikes in the dar! mninresent, but it is in the vey Ko ti “Boiaves that we must seek the head which directs—’ The princess here interrupted her reading to throw her gaze upon the groups surrounding her. “Are there traitors among us?” she cried. “In the name of Bowhanie, I tell you they are accursed! Whosoever shall betray our secrets shall die the | traitor’s death!” A long silence, filled with terror, fol- lowed her threatening words. 4 Then, taking the papers, she held them in the flame of the tripod. “May the sacred fire of Siva devour and destroy the weapons raised against us!” she prayed. Not until each leaf fluttered in ashes to the ground did she desist. Then she yee “Sons of the Terrible!” she said, “on these ashes and this dead body, do you swear to exterminate the East India compary 2?” ‘The crowd answered in one voice: “We swear!” “It is well. I receive your oath, and men, preceded by Kazil, advanced to- ward the entrance to the cemetery. The light of the moon could not pen- etrate through the high, narrow defile, but as the little group entered the plain, bursting from behind a cloud, it revealed to them a scene of strange and weird grandeur; its. white rays dis- closing the nuge masses of bone, the dark background of rock, and the gro- tesque and hideous idol rising conspic- uously in the midst. Mounting one of the steps leading to the image, George examined it careful- ly. Kazil shuddered at what appeared, to him a sacrilegious act, and expecting to see lightning flash from the god's eyes and a destroying fire from his mouth. But his master descended un. harmed, and directed his steps toward one of the skeletons, to study nearer the highly-polished béné. ™ en. 7 Kazil separated himself at a little distaifée, mt walked slowly and aim- lessly, brushing his feet along the high grass, his gaze fixed on the ground. Suddenly he stopped abruptly. A shudder ran through his limbs, and he made a moyement backward with man- ifest terror. Then, conquering his emotion, by strength of will, he returned, leaned over and parted the grass with his two hands, only to spring erect, uttering a terrible ery, in which anguish and hor- ror together mingled. “What is the matter?” cried George Malcolm, hastening toward him, “A boa constrictor!” stammered Stop, in terrible fright; ‘a black panther, a leopard or a fierce tiger! We are lost. Let us save ourselves!” In saying which the valet would have taken refuge in flight, but terror paral- | yzed him. He sank helpless on a rock. Not without some impatience, George | addressed Kazil a second time: “Answer me, child—what is it?” “A corpse buried in the grass,” an- swered the young Hindoo, gravely. repeated George. ter.” knelt by the body, and drew from the wound an Indian dagger, ; will remember it. The hour is at hand when the ancient territory of the Tam- erlides will be rujuvenated in a bath ef blood. Now, brothers, disperse, and, above all things, remember!” CHAPTER XIII. Silence had fallen upon the cemetery of the elephants, when, for the second whose bloody blade he carefully exam- ined under the light of the moon. 8 denly a violent and new emotion was depicted on his countenance, and he murmured: “A dagger marked with the symbol of the goddess. It is the Sons of Bow- hanie who have struck this blow!” At this moment a black cloud passed over the moon’s face. George took. the time, it was broken by intruders upon the wierd and singular scene. ‘These intruders were George Mal- colm, Step, Kazil and his subordinate Hindoos. George Malcol’s curiosity of the day before, to see the place by moonlight, could. not be repressed. He also hoped to hear the strange ceremonies of the natives, and to ussist, unseen himself, in their mysterious rites. Only of his purpose he determined to say nothing at home until it was accomplished. Therefore, he had enrolled Kazil as guide, bidding him have horses in read- iness, and, at 9 o’clock, feigning weari- ness, he had bidden his father, brother and the two young girls good-night and retired to his own room. Then, rapidly changing his dress for his hunting costume, and putting a knife and revolver in his belt, he had noislessly left the house to rejoin Ka- ail and Stop, who awaited him at the end of the shaded walk. Kazil had taken the precaution to bring two Hindoos, whom he believed faithful as himself, explaining to the young Englisman the necessity for their presence in ease of a night attack upon the way. As they leisurely pursued their route through the forest, they were passed by a party of men on horseback, riding like the wind, but no presentiment warned George Malcolm that his fath- er, soon to be made a corpse, wa: among them, bound and helpless. A Nttle later the chants of the initi- ated filing out from the cemetery, sounced on the night. The words could | not be distinguished, but the vague and confused harmony had a species of savage grandeur. “These are fakirs, are they not, Ka- zil?” questioned George. “TI think so, master.” “Quickly, then! Let us hasten!” And giving Djal the rein, the bound- 1 ed on. Soon he stopped, listening at- tentively. The sounds had ceased. “Have they gone?” he asked, in deep ! disappointment. “Gone just as we ar- | rived! ‘Truly, this is unfortunate. Where is the entrance to the ceme-! tery?” “A little more than a hundred feet from here,” answered Kazil. “In that great mass of black rock.” “Well, let us go in.” And George was about to spur for- ward when Kazil laid his hand upon Djall’s bridle. “I am your guide,” he said. “You have confided yourself to my care. You must remain here. I will go alone into the cemetery, and if, without risking your life, you may enter, I will return for you.” “What matters danger?” cried George, impatiently. “It attracts but never re- pels me.” “True, master. But I do not wish to see you fall at my feet, strangled by the lasso, or struck by a dagger thrust from an unseen hand. Invisible senti- nels guard the entrance to the ceme- tery during the rites of the fakirs, and punish with death the curiosity of the imprudent.” As he could not enter without a guide, George was compelled to resign himself to Kazil’s dictum, and let him goonalone. At the end of ten minutes the boy returned. “All is safe, master. The cemetery is deserted; the fakirs have disappear- ed. You can enter.” Stop rubbed his hands in glee, but his master could not repress a gesture of disappointment. “Ah, my chance is gone!” he mur- mured. “Well, in the absence of the fakirs, we must content ourselves with the skeletons of the elephants.” The horses were Jeft in charge of one of the Hindoos. The second took a torch from his saddle, and the three terch from the hands of the Hindoo who was near him, and, bending beside Kazil, exclaimed: “Let us look!” Shielding the light, he held it where it might fall upon the ghastly form; but instantlys he bounded back; the torch fell from his hand to the ground, its flame extinguished, while a ery, or rather a wail of agony burst from his breast. Breathless and panting, he muttered to himself these words: “No, no! It is a dream, an illusion, an infernal lie! I have seen blindly! 1 am a fool! This form, these featur If it should be I have seen aright! M God! My God! on my knees I pray you to remove this phantom from me! It is impossible! It is not true—it would be too horrible!” ; 2 , What is the mat- ter?” 1, who y, but could not understand, George Malcolm's ap- parent madness. | Stop was no longer seated on the stone. Kneeling and groaning, he called upon all the saints to protect him. The moon reappeared between two clouds, and let its clear light fall full upon the corpse. George averted his head, as if to avoid some frightful vis ion. “T wish to look again, and I dare not!” he stammered. “I wish to see it cnce more, but I have not the cour- age!” Then, seizing Kazil’s arm, he cried: “Look you, Kazil! Bend and look! You do not recognize _ this corpse? In the name of the living God, answer me quickly! Tell me you do not recognize it!” Kazil obediently leaned over and looked upon the ghastly face; his eyes suddenly dilated, his face becoming liv- | which will denounce the murderer!” As he 3 pronounced these words, his feet crushed to the earth a mass of blackish debris whose nature he could not understand. Standing, he lifted some of it, crying out: 4 ; “Papers, half-consumed by fire! God {doubtless hears me! He grants that |which I just have asked. Light the torch, Kazil—light the torch!” The child hastened to obey, and the burned papers which had contained Sir John Malcolm’s notes and discoveries, were in his son’s hands. Seeing them almost destroyed by the flame, George felt only profound de- spair. , “Nothing!” he murmured—“not a word! .The fire has left nothing.” Again and again his trials to decipher anything were without result, when, on a large sheet, blackened and yellowea, some lines were still preserved intact. “My father’s writing!” George ex- claimed —“indeed his writing! Ah, if I may but find a trace! No,” he contin- ued, “I had hoped too much. Senseless words—not a name.” He read aloud: “A formidable association— The fire —always the fire! Ah! these words: ‘It is in the very heart of Benares that we myst geck—’ The is ajl, For me these Words méan hothing. How guess them? how to discover? how to know? My father! must we, then, leave these monsters unpunished? No; it shall not be! Farewell, father! Listen to the oath your son swears on your icy hends: I swear to trace these mur- derers—to find them—to punish them! If I fail, it will be because Death robs me of my revenge!” Stop wept near his master; a savage smile gave a strange expression to the bronzed face of the Hindoo servitor who had accompanied them, and Kazi, at a little distance, torch in hand, light- ed the gloomy tableau. CHAPTER XIV. Nine o’clock sounded from every clock in Benares, and the entire city was illuminated—every street, every house was desirous to add its share to the splendor and elat of the magniti- cent fete given by Lord Singleton. . The superb garden of the palace of the Presidency presented to the eye a glimpse of fairyland. Colored lights lit up the foliage, and luminous : ands of flowers wound, one above the other, upon all the trees. Fantastic glimmer- ings were reflected in the mimic lak and in the midst of all uprose the pal- of white marble, with its hundred ng windows. To fitly complete the picture, upon the emerald moss of the lawns, and be- neath the wide-spreading branches, had gathered a crowd, in whose waves in- termingled the red uniforms of the English officers and the sumptuous costumes of the rajahs and the Hindoo women of exalted rank. ‘the pure atmosphere of the mild, clear night led Lord Singleton’s guests to choose the outer air and heaven’s starry vault, rather tham the heated temperature within. Two orchestras, hidden from view at either end of the garden, filled the air with a flood of melody. Innumerable liveried servants moved incessantly among the guests, bearing silver wait- ers Iaden with all imaginable delica- cies. Not far from the foot of tie grand staircase, garnished with flowers and leading from the palace to the garden, vas stationed a little group exclusive- ly English, composed of three or four young Jadies and as many officers in the service of the company. One of these latter, a young fellow of | perhaps twenty-six years, held his au- ditors almost spell-bound by some won- derful recitals. “Indeed, I have exaggerated noth- i ’ he was saying. “The dangers wnich threaten us here are not only immense, but increasing. Our lives would be in infinitely less peril exposed to the fire of battle. Battle! At least one there sees face to face the enemy with whom he has to deal. Here the enemy is everywhere, but invisible. it is war, but the war of assassination. Every night we lose men; every Morn- ing someone fails to answer to his name at roll cuil, and someone finds the sentinel dead at his post—strangled by the terrible lasso, or bearing full in his breast the triangular wound of the In- dian dagger. And throughout the ex- panse of India the rising sun of each new day Iooks down upon those foully id, as, in a voice which no longer sound- ed like his own, he cried: “Sir John Malcolm—Sir John Mal- colm!” George threw himself on his knees beside the body, sobbing. y father! It is my father!” zil, his face bathed in tears, mur- mured, despairingly: “My benefactor—my savior! They ! have killed him, and they are my broth- ers!” George, stretched upon the ground, now clasped his father in his arms, land leaning against his breast, tried in vain to revive him, while he. wiped the last drop of blood from the open mouth of the wound. He kissed his face, his hands. His grief, in its terrible strength, would have moved to pity the heart of a tiger, or even a votary of Bowhanie. Through his tears and sobs he murmured: “My father, stabbed to the heart— i1my poor father, bloody, lifeless! He can’t hear, he cannot see me. His eyes are forever closed and his voice forey- er hushed! With all my strength, I loved him. So much happiness I had heped for, and it is death that meets me!” His face appeared of marble, whose lines were rigid under a mask of livid pallor; his eyes, dried by an inner fiame, no longer wept; his parched mouth expressed an energetic purpose. He had been kneeling. He rose. “Let this helpless weakness be ban- ished!” he exclaimed, his voice regain- ing its firmness. “Of what use are tears? I must not weep for my father —I must act. I must revenge him!” Interrupting himself, he hid his face in his hands, as if to isolate himself from the world; then, fastening his gaze again on the corpse, he cried: “But who has committed this infa. mous deed? Who has dastardly struck this brave and good old man? My murdered, stretched upon the soil, red with the victims’ blood!” ‘A shudder ran through the little group. “But when these murderers attack they are seen?’ asked one of the young irks. s Be eNever! It is only in the darkness they accomplish their infernal work, and with the sun’s first rays they van- ish, like the shadows of the night. En- tirely naked, their bodies oiled, their, heads shaven, to offer no hold to the’ death-clutch of the sufferers, they creep out from their lairs at nightfall; they leap like tigers, and fly at the Jeast alarm. Only once, by stratagem, we succeeded in overcoming the dev- ils.” “And the ruse-what was it?’ all asked in chorus. “It was this,” continued Lieut. Mid- Jey. “Every night, on the edge of a lit- tle wood near Benares, we lost several sentinels. One of our officers conceived the idea of uniforming some lay figures, placing them at the perilous posts, while we, our heads concealed by the large lotus leaves, our pistols between our teeth, kept watch. Three hours passed—three interminable hours, in our constrained and uncomfortable po- sitions. The night was profoundly calm. The day drew near. We feared our ruse was vain, when suddenly, a breath, like the hissing of a serpent, made us shudder, and a crowd of dev- ils, who appeared to have sprung from the bowels of the earth, threw them- selves upon the false sentinels. A shower of bullets met them. Six fell dead. The seventh made a desperate resistance, even with a broken leg, but we succeeded in capturing him, though not before he had severely wounded two of our men. We brought him alive to Benares, hoping to wrench from him some revelations; but these people’s fanaticism is a virtue, is even heroic. God—God all-powerful—since you have | Neither threat of death or hope of par- permitted the erime, permit to me the | don could extort from him one single the vengeance! Come to my aid! Do|word. Sir John Malcolm himself could not abandon me to my own strength! |do nothing. The Hindoo remained si- My reason wanders. Put in my hands |jent; he refused all nourishment; he the clue—put under my eyes a sign |tore the bandages from his wounded leg, and, the third day, he died, carry- ing with him his secret to the tomb. This happened two months ago.” At this moment Lord Singleton, giv- ing some instructions to his servants, descended the great staircase, and ad- dressing the young officers. “Do you know, gentlemen,” he asked," “if our friend, Sir John Malcolm, has arrived at the palace?” “We have not yet seen him,” an- swered Midley. “And I dare affirm to your lordship that he is not present,” added another. “Doubtless he is immersed in one of those mysterious” judicial investiga- tions whose end no one exactly under- stands, but which so completely ab- sorb him.” ©. “Doubtless, my lord,” affirmed Lieut. Midley. But, as he spoke, on the highest step of the staircase appeared Sir John’s youngest son, accompanying his fian- cee, Hera Burtell, and her sister Agnes. Lord Singleton was the first to dis- cover them. “Ah!” he exclaimed, “here is Sir Ed- ward with Sir John’s wards! He will be able to bring us news of his father. You bring us Sir John?” he asked, after a formal interchange of cuurtesies. “No, my lord,” answered the young man. “I hoped to find him here.” “We have awaited him,” replied the Governor, “and are surprised at his ab- sence.” “But it more than astonishes me,” murmured Edward. “It causes me great uneasiness.” “And why?” “Why? My lord,” repeated Edwara, “I will explain. My father neither breakfasted nor supped with us. He | left the bungalow before daybreak, and on entering his room, I found his bed untouched.” “Indeed!” said the Governer. pears very strange.” “One thing reassures us,” added Ag- nes, timidly. “My guardian was not alone. His eldest son accompanied him and also Stop, a most faithful man, and Sir George’s valet. In that |case, you must put aside all thought of danger.” “Yes,” added Edward, “and it must also be said that my father has had the habit of absenting himself in this fashion, without forewarning anyone.” “Ah, it is doubtless one of these jour- neys he has made. I am convinced we shall soon press his hand.” “We share your hope, my lord.” At this instant a hussar announced, in ringing tones: “The Rajah Doorgal Sahib!” Quite a movement of curiosity was jap ent among the guests to see the neweomer, whose reputation had pre- ceded him as one of the wealthiest and most eivilized ef the Hindoo princes and English allies. ‘The Governor advanced several steps to meet him. He was costumed in the ntal habit, his dress sparkling with us stones, and he descended the staircase surrounded by & numerous and brilliant suite. Agnes seized He- ra's arm and tremblingly whispered: “It ap- so constantly meet, and whose gaze, wien fixed on my faee, burns like a flame, and makes me redden im spite of myself. Hera, I am afraid of him. In seme way this man brimgs me misfor- tune!” Hera, in answer, pressed her hand. “Nonsense, dear!” she said. “If we meet the prince, it is by accident, and if he looks at. you, it is because you are so beautiful that I e¢annet be aston- charming. Besides, our guardian knows him. Why, then, are yow afraid?” “J do not know,” murmured Agnes, “T shudder—cannot help it! I am, per- haps, weak and foolish, but it is not my fault. One cannot centre] presenti- ments.” '’he Governor and the rajah had now met. “Welcome, Doorgal Sahib aid the former. “In this palace, which is En- glish territory, I am prowd and happy to reckon you among my guests.” “My lord,” responded the rajah, “I offer to you my hand, and my heart fol- lows it. Our countries are not the same, our gods are different, but we are brothers.” “It could not be otherwise,” replied Lord Singleton, “since England and India are siste1 Doorgal then, perceiving the two sis- ters, hastened towards them. Miss Agnes—Miss Hera,” he said, with the p < profound respect, “let me bend the knee befere you as before one of the smiling divinities of the temple. Sir Edward, I salute you. Shall we not see, this evening, Sir Jobn, your father?” “Doubtless, prince, since we expect him,” answered Edward. “T shall await his coming, since I nave one favor to ask of him.” “A favor, prince?” echoed Hera. “What may it be?” “To be permitted to offer each of you one of those trifles, pleasing to young gizls, whose sole value in my eyes will be that it may enhance your beauty.” “What is it, then?” A magnificent belt of embroidered cachemire encircled the rajah’s waist, and held his silver-handled dagger, in- erusted with jewels. Doorgal thrust his right hand into its ample folds and drew therefrom two caskets, similar in shape, which he handed the young girls, slightly bending the knee before them, in Eastern fashion. With marked hesitation, Agnes re- ceived hers; but Hera opened the spring with child-like impatience, and, with a gesture of astonished admira- tion, cried: “How beautiful! Look, my_ lord! Edward—Agnes, look! It is wonderful, superb, dazzling—” “Permit me to say, Miss Hera,” in- terrupted the prince, “that you exag- gerate. There is nothing there to mer- it such encomiums. ‘They are humble diamonds, from the mines of Golconda, surrounded by pearls, gathered by my divers at the fisheries of Ceylon, and mounted in a necklace and bracelets by a jeweler of Calcutta, who works put for me. It is very modest. 1 know it well. Stars, not diamonds, should encircle your throats and arms. But the stars shine in the sky as your eyes shine on the earth, and I have not yet found the means of mounting to the heavens to detach them; but for that, er stars I would lay at your feet.” “Truly, rajah,” said Lord Singleton, smiling and taking the open casket from Hera’s hand, “you could give les- gons in gallantry to the habitues of the ok, Hera—look! It is the man we | ished at his admiration, I think him |, mest aristocrat! salons in Paris and London, You are at the same time, prince, millionaire and poet.” : Sif jord, you tiatter me.” i “Nay; I am but just.” “Ah, well, my lord. Be kind; fulfill the dearest of my wishes. “I am, really, rajah. What must be doue?” “oYu are England’s supreme repre- sentative. Your will none of your couD- irymen will dispute. Authorize Miss Agnes and Miss Hera, then, in the ab- sense of their guardian, not to repulse my modest offering; and, if your au- thority does not suffice, I pray you add to it entreaty. “Prince,” stammered Agnes, with an uneasiness which was absolute pain, “our gartitude is great, but jewels of such value we cannot accept.” “They are too beautiful!’ cried Hera —“a thousand-fold too beautiful! They were made for queens.” “And are you not queens?” exclaimed Doorgal, with warmth. “Are you not thrice queens, wearing the triple crown of beauty, youth and grace? How many sovereigns would gladly ex- change their golden scepter fotyours?” “Ask Sir Edward,” said Agnes. “I am stre he will say, with us, that ac- ceptance is impossible.” Thus appealed to, Edward found himself compelled to reply. “Truly, prince,” he answered, “I must agree with Miss Agnes and Miss Hera.” Doorgal turned toward Lord Single- ton. “My lord governor,” he said, “you see { have no hope but in you. Decide, then, and favorably to me, I pray you.” “So be it,” answered Lord Singleton, “I consent, but must first know if all parties accept my decision, and will submit to it without opposition or mur- muring.” To this each of the little group agreed. “This, then, is my fiat: “I, Governor of Benares, in Sir John Malcolm’s ab- sence, and acting for him, do enjoin upon his charming wards to accept the jewels so courteously offered by the Rajah Doorgal Sahib, and which are a gage anew of the sympathetic and cor- lifance between India and Eng- and. A joyous smile lighted Hera’s face, m Agnes’ long lashes hung a te@ Thanks, my lord!” cried Doorgal, r fiant. “I expected from you no le: Then he added, turning toward the young girls: “The supreme decision is announced. ora, frankly, delighted, hastened to sp the jewels on her neck and arms. You will aliow me,” murmured Deorgal to Agnes, who, painfully agi- tated, could not refuse to extend her arm that he might fasten upon it the bracelet. 4» ne did so he whispered, in low, ated tones: h, t I might thus put my heart into your hands, and compel you to ac- eept it!” And Ieaning toward her, he brushed her fingers with his kiss, she recoiling from the unexpected demonstration. “These jewels burn me,” she thought. “His lips felt to me like hot iron. Lb tremble. It seems to me that I shalt eS At this moment the crowd surged to one point in great excitement. One or two seconds passed, then the ringing voice of the hussar announced the Princess Djella.. According to her invariable custom, she was dressed in European style—her white dress entirely composed of Eng- lish lace of great value, her arms and shoulders bare. A diadem of black en- amel studded with diamonds of incred- ible splendor; sparkled in her dark hair. “Good evening, my lord,” she said to the governor, extending her hand. “I have promised, and I am here.” “Seeing you enter, princess,” an- swered Lord Singleton, “one leaves the domain of reality to enter that of fairy land. I told you, when last we met, that my fete needed a queen. She is here. I place the scepter im your ept, nry lord, and I will hold it until the morning.” While these words were exchanged, Agnes and Hera, half-hidden by the group of guards and black slaves, gazed at Djella with devouring eurios- Miss Agnés, Miss Hera, believe me, it. would be bracelets and necklaces of’ ity: is she not beautiful?” asked Hera. “Dazzlingly beautiful, and yet she makes me fear. She has wicked eyes and # cruel smile.” “Her eyes and smile to me appear sweet,” answered Hera. “Look more closely,” returned Agnes, with some impatience, “and you will see that I am right.” The princess, perceiving Doorgal Sa- hib, beckoned him to approach. He hastened to obey. “Ah, rajah!” she said, with a smile. “You appear to ignore the fact that, threvgh Lord Singleton’s mandate, I am queen for the night. Why do you not lay your homage at your sover. eign’s feet?” “IT wait until the Queen permits,” he answered, kissing her hand. Leaning toward him, she said, in a vues low enough to be heard only by m: “No news has yet reached here?” “As yet, none,” answered Doorgal. Edward approached the two sisters. “Now that your curiosity is satisfied, come within.” “Edward,” said Agnes, “I do not know what presentiment oppresses me, but when I look at this woman my heart ceases to beat. To me she seems to bring misfortune.” “Oh, well, in the salons you will not see her. You will come?” “Yes.” “Come quickly, then.” eompanied by Hera, he made several steps through the crowd, which gath- ered in great numbers about the prine- ess. ; (To be continued.) Not a Candidate for Matrimony. A certain Irish member of parlia- ment, popular and a bachelor, had been very polite to the daughter of the house where he was visiting. When the time came for him to go, anxious mamma called him in rious talk. ‘Tm sure, I don’t know say,” she went on; “’tis reported around that you are to marry Letitia.’