Krishna.

Auckland Star, Volume LIII, Issue 89, 15 April 1922, Page 21

Krishna.

By ALLEN UPWARD,

[ALL EIGHTS BESEHTED.J

Author of "The Eotttc of Sin," "Seems of the Courts of Europe," "The New Word," "Some Personalities," etc.

CHAPTER XV. While Smtram Burchard was engaged '.n what might be termed open strife with the mistress of Buck's Lodge for the body of one of her victims, his differently situated friend was plunged in an agonising wrestle for the soul of another. The Reverend Bede Ainger had gone into his 6tudy after breakfast to write his weekly ecnnoii. It was not an easy task, with the prospect that one-half of his congregation would be composed of free-thinking Pantheist-, for whom religion was a means of hysterical excitement, and the other half of narrowminded villager.!, for whom' it meant respectability and submission to their lot. Almost without a conscious choice the young clergyman turned to the beginning of the sacred volume, and took for his subject the venerable story whose significance had become co fearfully vivid to his'mind within the last few days: "The serpent tempted mc, and I did eat." He had hardly copied down the familiar text when the round-eyed parlourmaid knocked at the door and came in with the little-expected announcement: "Miss Welby wishes to know if you can sec her, sir?'' If he could see her? Bede laid down his pen in agitation, impressed by something serious in the form of the request. ''Show her in," he directed, rising from his chair. Teresa entered. In complete contrast to the day before, she was in black from head to foot. Not even a flower relieved the sombreness of her appearance. Her only visible ornament —if such it could be called —wae a small gold cross hung at her neck. The vicar was advancing to shake hands with her when she checked him with the words: "I have called to see you _us a clergyman—as my parish priest, if I may." Xo spell she might have uttered could have acted more powerfully in repressing the young man's emotion. Instantly changing hie smile of welcome into the rigid expression which befitted the most solemn functions of the ministry, he pointed quietly to a chair. "Sit down," he said, in colourless tones. "I am at your service." And he resumed his own seat without looking at her. Teresa had evidently prepared her opening sentence with care. "I have come to you because I have no one else at hand in whom I can confide. Are you willing to hear mc under the seal of confession?" The clergyman inclined his head gravely. "It is my duty to do so, my daughter." It was no secret to his parishioners that the Vicar of Buck's Hill was inclined to the more Catholic aspect of the Anglican ministry. At the same time, of course, there was nothing in Teresa's request which called for refusal by any minister of religion, though its wording might not have been equally acceptable to. all.

She became a little less reserved as she went on. ' "My aunt is out of sympathy with mc in religious matters. Ac you know, she is strict Evangelical. And I am thinking of entering a convent."

In spite of the restraint he had imposed on himself. Bede could not suppress a start and a slight exclamation at this unlooked-for news. "Do you mean a Roman Catholic convent?" he asked. Teresa shook her head in a -way that indicated indifference. "That js one of the question* I came to consult you about. I know nothing about Anglican convents. I simply feel that I am in need of some binding power to hold mc. I want to take a vow which I cannot break." Bede looked at her in drpaJf. There were things that he longed to say to her, but which he dared not say in the character he had consented to assume. She had placed a lock upon his lips. This ie a very serious step to think of taking," he said, after iome hesitation. "Are you sure that you have considered it carefully? It would not be for your happiness to take a vow under some passing impulse, if you are not really fitted for the religious life." Perhaps Teresa realised that She was putting an unfair strain on the young man's fidelity to his office. She knew as -well as he did what sort of proteist he would have made had he been free to speak. Her tone became gentler. "I don't feel that I have any real vocation, as it is called, for the religious life. But I feel that I am in danger, and .that nothing else can save mc." The vicar listened in anguish, which, he feared, must be visible in his face even if he kept it out of bis voice. "Is there no other remedy?" he urged. '•'ls the danger you speak of not one that you might avoid hy going away for a time? I could find a refuge for you in a religious house .where you would be free from temptation, without your having to take the vows." The young woman shook her head determinedly. "There is no place where I should be free from temptation. I am afraid to trust myself any longer." Bede made an effort. "There is no need for us to fence with each other because you have come to mc as your spiritual adviser. I wil! ask you frankly whether you are not influenced just now by some particular temptation—some particular tempter?" To her confessor's surprise, Teresa shook her head again. "I know what you mean, of course. I don't mind speaking of it plainly. You think I am under the influence of Mohun Rao. So I am, to some extent, but he would have no influence over mc unless .... it is not he I am afraid of: it :_ myself." She broke off and hid her face in her hands. Bede felt the tears amounting to his! eyes as he witnessed her tragical torment. He wished, for her sake, that they were strangers; the previous relations between them made it impossible for him to play the part she had assigned to him aright. He summoned up courage to tell her so. "I am afraid you have made a mistake in coming to mc," he said, in a voice trembling with compassion. "I don . fee| that I am fit to give you the counsel you need. Will you let mc send you "to my own confessor, the _Bishop of Chelsea? He is the man who knows all the depths of the. human heart." Teresa lifted her head and gave him the kind of look which she had given him once -before when something like a per-

CHAPTER XVI. At this moment Madame Vesta's second victim was still struggling iv the toils. Sintram Burchard had found himself in a position which called for all his courage and quickness of resource. Behind him was the locked door of the greenhouse, with his released hostage grinning in triumph through the glass. In front of him stood the thick privet hedge, behind which an unknown number of assailants awaited him; and the whole length of the garden separated him from the only possible means of exit, which might or not prove to bpassable. And clinging to his arm in desperate terror was the beautiful girl whose very name he did not know, and on whose "behalf he was engaged in a grave defiance of the criminal law. His first thought was for her. "Believe mc. you are in no danger," he assured her. "These men are only armed with knives, which they won't dare to use on you. Follow mc, and the moment you see them attack mc, run as hard as you can to the door of the garden and try to get out." His adopted sister gave him a look which would have made a coward brave. "But what about you?" He thanked her with another, under •which she thrilled with a different emotion from fear.

"You needn't be afraid for mc. T>o what I tell you, and 1 shall find it all the easier to defend myself."

He led the way boldly down the path which skirted tlie hedge. Already he could hear the naked feet running past on the other side of it. to meet them at the far end. At one moment he thought of firing through the hedge; but he had no wish to commit bloodshed, except in the last resort. It was a grim game of hide-and-seek between the rescuer and rescued on one hand and the guardian _ on the other, and in grim silence it was being played. Holding his breath, the young Englishman began creeping on tiptoe towards the corner behind which his foes ■ were waiting for him. Already the gleam of bare steel was visible between the leaves of the privet. "Xow!" exclaimed Sintram, suddenly.

him the courageous girl safe past the point of danger, and running at full speed down the garden. He swung round far enough to point his pistol in the face of the man who had wounded him.

"Follow and you get a bullet!" he shouted fiercely. Then he dashed after his charge.

sonal note had coloured his exhortations to her, but .he refrained from any comment.

"I will go to him if you like." she answered, wearily. "But if. will do no good. T can't go on living as 1 an- It is a convent or nothing for mc. I'm afraid. 1 mean, a-convent or something worse."

He caught her up half-way down the path. Already they were clear of the shrubbery, which might have concealed a whole swarm of assassins. .Sintram did not look round to see whether his threat had taken ofTeot. In a few moments the two fugitives came in sight of the postern door.

Bede looked at her imploringly. "If 1 believed you would really be happy in a convent 1 would not say another word, except to urge you to go into one. But are you sure there is no other alternative'; Are you sure you could not be happy in the married life?"

l-'or once even ..intrant's heart failed him. The door was fast bolted, whether locked as well lie had no means of knowing, and right in front of it stool the imposing figure of Mohun Rao, flanked by two other Hindus, armed with swords and knives, doubtless the pair lie had detected from the house. And Mohun Rao grasped a magazine pistol like his own.

It was as near as he dared to go to: making the plea he longed to niaT-e. To his _eli_f, Teresa answered quite familiarly, as though she considered that the role of confessor had now been abdicated. j "I daren't cay that. T only know j that 1 have never yet met the man 1 i could be happy with. If I were to marry I you I should only wreck your life." ! Her lover's face was crossed i with pain. "I am willing to take: the risk if yon are, Teresa. You would be a_ «afe with mc as in a convent, and you would be guarded by j an equally binding vow. Think of it before you decide, for your own sake as well as mine. The life' of a clergyman's wife in a country parsonage like this is almost as regular and quiet as a,ii«n"sYou need have no household cares; you could go in and out among the villagers like a Sister of Charity; or, if you preferred the contemplative life, you could have your oratory. There would be the early celebration every morning fo settle jour mind for the day: your life would glide along in a peaceful routine " "Snc-h a life would drive mc mad!" burst out the girl, paesionately. Bede's voice broke. "It -would not if yon loved mc, Teresa." -_lie turned on him almost angrily, forgetting that this time she had drawn the declaration on herself. "X don't believe you could endure mc to love you," she said, violently. "1 daren't take the risk."' The young man's form was shaken. He -was hardly able to control his voice. "For Cod's sake, Teresa, fell mc what you mean!" "I don't believe you know what love is—not my kind of love. I doubt if p.ny Englishman does. By love you mean a sentimental devotion--thc sort of romance that can go on between a man and a woman who have not met for ten years. I believe that can make some people happy; i daresay it would you. You would be quite contented, perhaps, to be living out in India as 4 missionary, looking at my photograph, and writing mc long letters by every mail, telling mc how fond you were of mc, and how you hoped to make a home for mc some day. That is not what I call love. I could not endure it, any more than you could endure mine. I tell you that if I did marry you you would repent it. I warn you, Bede. T am I.ilith, not Eve. Beware how you tempt mc." The drops of anguish stood out on her lover's brow. He drove his nails into the flesh as he answered huskily: '•'Teresa, if 3 - ou ask mc for my sou) you shall have it!" ,: Your soul would not satisfy mc." 'What do you want, in God's name!" Teresa gave a shudder. "I think I want a devil!" As she spoke, the low. monotonous note of a drum being beaten far away stole on them through the open window of the room.

The District Oflio.r had barely a second in which to make up his mind. To bandy words with his opponent would have been useless: the Hindu would be more than a match for him in argument. He had no idea whether he was his equal or superior »s a marksman, but the mere thought of bullets flying in the close neighbourhood of the frightened girl was not to be endured. And the chances of another rough-and-tumble were too doubtful to be taken lightly, with his leg already injured u:id two uuwounded enemies in his rear.

An inspiration came to him as he remembered -Madame Vesta's insult, and the confession of the servant that ahe had been afraid of his attempting to force his way into her house. Lowering the muzzle of his weapon, iiku a man wiio sees that he is recognised, and does not dream that his authority can be questioned any longer, he marched up to the majestic Hindu and addrc.„ed him in the stem voice of the magistrate of \lad__pur:

"1 am here on behalf of the Secretary of .State for India. In the name of the Emperor, I or.icr you to open that door, and let mc and tliig English woman pass out."

It was a thunderstroke. Moluin Rao fairly reeled under it. Doubtless he had more reasons than Burchard jet pus pc-cted for fearing the vigilance ji.f the Indian Government. The two men on each side of him were already slinking and sidling away in undisguised terror. The Brahman recovered himself sufficiently to make a profound salaam.

"T know nothing about this young lady," he aflirmed. with miction. "I did not know that she wag in the house. ¥011 will permit mc to report this affair to iSir Orde Rii-ills?"

There was a hint of a question, and the hint of a threat, in bis insinuating tone and the subtle glance that accompanied it.

"We had better go as fast as we can. They may have some trick up their sleeve," he whispered to his companion.

She was only too glad to obey. It was not till they had advanced some hundreds of yards through the trees that she ventured to falter out:

"Mr. Burchard! Oh, how can 1 thank you-"

■Sintram had been secretly fearing this a good deal more than lie feared any action on the part of Sir Orde Rutilis.

Burchard shrugged his shoulders. "1 only wisSi I were! 1 hope you won't think I am in the habit of telling lies, but I confess that was one. 1 really saw no other way to get out."

"You told it for my sake," the girl murmured, gratefully. But -Sintram could see that she was considerably disturbed.

"I am going to take you to Bournemouth, with your permission." be explained. "I hope to place you with a doctor whom I have seen there, who is a specialist in cases like yours, and thinks he can restore you. It is rather

And -without turning his head to see what the girl wa s doing, he charged like a football player through the thinning hedge into the very arms of the crouching Hindus. Fortunateiy, there were only two of them; it was impossible for him to tell whether the same two he had seen from the window-f the house, or others. One of them went down like a ninepin. rolling over and over and dropping his knife from his hand. His comrade shrank back just in time, and dealt a vicious cut at Sintram as he passed with a long, crooked scimitar, which left a bleeding gaeh on the young man's left leg. Sintram did not stay to return the blow. A glance to his fight showed

"You may—report it to the whole world, as I shail certainly do if you do not obey mc this moment."

The stately figure turned with an almost undignified swiftness and withdrew tho two bolts at tbe lop and bottom of the door. It was not locked: on that point Sintram had been told the truth. The Hindu threw it open witli condescension.

"You have only to go straight through the forest to reach the house of the Heverond Ainger," he said, graciously.

The released captive trembled on her deliverer's arm as they passed out. The door was instantly shut to behind them; but S-intram listened in vein for the sound of the bolts being drawn aj'.ain.

"'Xonsense," -be said, lightly. "This is only a pleasant adventure for mc. 1 have been in far tighter places in India. Here I can fancy T am one of the old knights-errant carrying off an imprisoned damsel from the castle of the enchanter." He turned sharply to tihe right as he spoke, and proceeded in a new direction. ""Did that man tell you the wrong Way?" the girl asked, with a touch of nervousness. "Xo. But T daren't take you to the vicarage where I am staying. 1 am sorry to say the vicar, though he is an old friend of mine, is also on friendly terms -with Madame Vesta, the woman who has had ymi in 'her power. 1 must hide you out of reach of the law for the present. I am afraid. You see, 1 had no legal right to bring you away." Burchard" looked at him in surprise. "But you said- I thought you were acting by the authority of the Government?"

a long way to the nearest station, but 1 hope you will be able to manage it all right." ' His companion did not seem to be listening to him very attentively. Absorbed in trying to think of some means of regaining her conHdence, be noticed nothing more till she began to slacken her pace, and finally alnnncd 'him becoming to a dead halt. "I don't think 1 can go any further with you."' she said, in a tone of distress. Sintram gazed at her in real misery. Had she lost faith in him co entirely that she preferred to be left alone in the midst of the forest rather than trust hhn to take her to a place of safety? "My dear (Miss Burchard! *My adopted sister, as yon promised to consider yourself till you found your own identity again—can't you trust mc tor a little while longer? In a few minutes we shall be out on the high road, safe past the village. I will leave you there if you wish it. -with money and full directions, though even there I think you will he safer under my escort." The unhappy girl -hardly seemed to take in what he said. "f would give anything to go with you." she cried despairingly, "but 1 can't. I must go back ajra'm. T feel it." And she turned round with an air of reluctance and began to retrace her steps. Sintram followed her, apologising, reasoning, imploring. It was all of no use. She quickened her pace Gteadily nnd marched straight in the direction of her prison. What mysterious instinct g-nided her steps ? The question "was answered as soon as he put it to himself. Doubtless it had reached to tlie girl's hypnotised nervefind overpowered them before it became distinct to the ear —that deep, compelling call of the demoniacal drum. (To be continued Saturday next.)