India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction; Love stories
Impulsively she stooped towards Hanani. "Take me to him!" she said.
"Take me to him! I am sure you know where he is."
Hanani drew back slightly. "_Mem-sahib_, it will take time to find him,"
she remonstrated. "Hanani is not a young woman. Moreover--" she stopped
suddenly, and turned her head.
"What is it?" said Stella.
"I heard a sound, _mem-sahib_." Hanani rose slowly to her feet. It
seemed to Stella that she was more bent, more deliberate of movement,
than usual. Doubtless the wild adventure of the night had told upon her.
She watched her with a tinge of compunction as she made her somewhat
difficult way towards the archway at the top of the broken marble steps.
A flying-fox flapped eerily past her as she went, dipping over the bent,
veiled head with as little fear as if she were a recognized inhabitant
of that wild place.
A sharp sense of unreality stabbed Stella. She felt as one coming out of
an all-absorbing dream. Obeying an instinctive impulse, she rose up
quickly to follow. But even as she did so, two things happened.
Hanani passed like a shadow from her sight, and a voice she
knew--Tommy's voice, somewhat high-pitched and anxious--called her
name.
Swiftly she moved to meet him. "I am here, Tommy! I am here!"
And then she tottered, feeling her strength begin to fail.
"Oh, Tommy!" she gasped. "Help me!"
He sprang up the steps and caught her in his arms. "You hang on to me!"
he said. "I've got you."
She leaned upon him quivering, with closed eyes. "I am afraid I must,"
she said weakly. "Forgive me for being so stupid!"
"All right, darling. All right," he said. "You're not hurt?"
"No, oh no! Only giddy--stupid!" She fought desperately for
self-command. "I shall be all right in a minute."
She heard the voices of men below her, but she could not open her eyes
to look. Tommy supported her strongly, and in a few seconds she was
aware of someone on her other side, of a steady capable hand grasping
her wrist.
"Drink this!" said Ralston's voice. "It'll help you."
He was holding something to her lips, and she drank mechanically.
"That's better," he said. "You've had a rough time, I'm afraid, but it's
over now. Think you can walk, or shall we carry you?"
The matter-of-fact tones seemed to calm the chaos of her brain. She
looked up at him with a faint, brave smile.
"I will walk,--of course. There is nothing the matter with me. What has
happened at Kurrumpore? Is all well?"
He met her eyes. "Yes," he said quietly.
Her look flinched momentarily from his, but the next instant she met it
squarely. "I know about--my baby," she said.
He bent his head. "You could not wish it otherwise," he said, gently.
She answered him with firmness, "No."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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