THE GARDEN OF HEART'S DELIGHT.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIII, Issue 13193, 2 June 1906, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE GARDEN OF HEART'S DELIGHT.

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARIIANGEMENT.]

BY LOUIS TRACT. Anthor of " The Final War." " Kainbov Island." The Albert Gate Affair," etc.. etc.. etc [corniiGHT.] CHAPTEK XVI. And when a lady's in the case You know all other things give place. —Gay. Fatkh Mohamjikd, hose name, literallv translated, meant The Victorious and Praised.'' intended to halt bis cohort a short day's ride from Agra, in order to patch its war-worn aspect- into some semblance of dignity ere he entered the presence of the King of Kings. Had lie ever heard of Falstaff he might well have cried with tsir John : "No eye hath seen such scarecrows. I'll not march through Coventry'with them, that's flat." The wear and tear of seven hundred miles had pressed so heavily. 011 the resources of guards and prisoners alike that their clothes and accoutrements did, indeed, require some furbishing. In this ragged regiment the Englishmen and their Kajputs alone presented a reputable appearance. But stout though he was, and otherwise much resembling plump Jack in his rascally tastes, Fateh Mohammed possessed a fair share of Eastern wiliness, so he took good care to apprise Jahangir beforehand of the curious conditions under which he was bringing to the capital the two men whose presence there was so greatly desired by his Imperial master. The recital naturally showed that the fat man was a model of zeal and discretion. If the Conqucrer of the World regarded the Giaours as malefactors here they were, ready to be bound and dealt 'with' according to the King's command, but, should it happen to please the Planet-born to treat hem as friends, naught had been done to give ground for other supposition, save in such slight and easily arranged matters as disarming them and holding certain valuable securities for their observance of the pact agreed upon. Hence, Fateh Mohammed felt neither " victorious" nor " praised" when a high official, accompanied by a glittering retinue. rode out liom Agra and greeted Mowbray and Sainton with much dcii mice, inviting them to return with him forthwith and accept the Emperor's hospitality! They had gone through so many vicissitudes of late that this bewildering attitude on the part of the Mogul monarch left them outwardly unmoved though inwardly amazed. No one could be more surprised than Mowbray, the too-successful prophet of the royal intent. Yet he bowed his polite acceptance of the proffered honours, and his manner was discretion itself when Fateh Mohammed, jelly-like in agitation, expressing his regrets with the spluttering haste of water poured fiom a narrow-necked bottle, hastened to restore not only the cedar box with its contents intact but also the swords and daggers stolen from the Englishmen whilst they slept. M'owbrav did not know then that the Court official had curtly told Fateh Mohammed .he was in grave peril of bsing hanged 011 the nearest tree if Jahangir had reason to complain of his) treatment of the strangers. It was in vain that the fat man pleaded the Emperor's written instructions, which were ambiguous certainly, but which must bo interpreted by His Majesty's anxiety to.secure the presence of the two Feringhis at Agra. If you interpret a, King's wishes you run. the' risk of making a. false translation," was the chilling response; so Fateh Mohammed was lett alternately thanking the Prophet that he had not obeyed his inclinations and slain the Giaours when he .learnt how they had hoodwinked him, and shivering with fear lest, after all, Jahangir might find cause to be displeased with him. ' Therefore, he grovelled before: Mowbray, and, like Prince Henry's sack-loving companion,- wished "it. were bedtime and all Well/' : >- The .mystery of the Emperor's attitude deepened when. Walter learnt that Nur Mahal was, indeed, a palace menial. Even the weather-cock courtier, skilled in the art of polite evasion, ■ did not scruple to show his contempt for feminine influences at the

i mo (.vmvuiyi/ iui it: 111 UUi.lt; XUUUOnCPS at me best. " I have seen many such butterflies danct ing in the sun'," he said scoffingly. "They are very brilliant until the rain falls, or some hungry bird eats them." His orders were to conduct the Englishmen and their followers to Dilkusha, where , they would be in the midst of familiar sur- . roundings. and it was Jahangir's vish to receive them, that afternoon. When Mowbray insisted that Fra Piet.ro should come with them the envoy was dubious at first, but . Walter would not yield the point, which was ultimately conceded. As for the others, they were to bide. in. their present camp until arrangements were made for their disposal. "Gad!" cried Roger,, paying some heed to this statement, " that "will, not be to' Matilda's liking!" "Have affairs come to the pass. that you may not be parted?" asked Walter roguishly, his perplexities vanishing for ,the moment as he pictured the countess' agitation when told she was to be separated from her cavalier; "'Tis to me a matter of no great cavil," was the reply, " but ■ the . poor body will surely, miss me when the mule crosses a bad bit of road." "Why not bring her with us?" "Ay. That is to be thought of. There are always more ways of killing a cog than choking him wi' butter." ' "But you must marry the lady first, Roger.. At a pinch Fra Pietro—" "The devil fly oft with thee and thy pinching! Who spoke of marrying? Thy humour, at times, Walter, is dry as the Swale after a, drought." 1 m what I have wen of the countess 1 fear that marriage. will bo the o-nlv cure for her affliction." .By 'he cross of Osniotherly!" cried Sainton hotly, " it that be her malady she will ail a long time ere I give her physic. Marry, forsooth! If, ever I seek a wife, which 1 greatly doubt, I'll hitch up wi' a Jass from my own dales. Not that Matilda is ill-looking, or, for that matter, as skittish as some I have seen, but mav the Lord help any woman I bring to Wensley afore my mother runs 11,1 eye over her !"- "I fear, then, her ladyship mutt remain here willy-nilly." Sainton, more . annoyed than he eared to show, drew his long-negleeted ' sword and begun' to burnish it affectionately. i,^ hast a load's tongue . a.(, times, lad, he growled, breathing on the steel before rubbing it to a line sheen. " The thing had not, troubled me a, whit had st thou not spoken of it, but, now I come to think over bygones, 1 am constrained to admit that mayhap her ladyship may have construed my actions amiss. Women are oft prone to look through a chink when the door is open all the time. On mv soul, I fear to face her. My hang-dog looks will betray me and she'll upbraid me. Go thou, Walter, and telpher— her—" I "That thou hast no mind to wed. Xar, Roger, that would be ungallant, to say the least. "Tell her any glib lie that will get me safeiV away. Samson was halt' conquered w.ien it was known wherein his strength lay, and my only , sure refuge is flight if a woman attacks. Poor Matilda! I would I had the heart to appease her. Yet lam not for matrimony, and no barber can make a wig of a hide that is bald of woo!. Rut I vow you have vexed me by your niceties. Drat the thing! I trust the bit of Latinity our worthy friar gave me jester e'en is sound sense, else I'll mope for a we?-. ' "And what was that, Roger?" asked ! Mowbray, turning to hide a smile from ' his wrathful friend. He spoke to me of certain passages ; 'twist you and Nur Mahal, as he built ' somewhat on her power despite Jai Singh's ' story. Yet he sighed and said : ' Quid ' vento? Mulier. Quid muliere? Nihil.' 1 It tickled- my fancy to put the quip into rhyme: — ] Jfore fickle than wind ! Is woman's mind; 1 More fickle than woman c Nought you'll find. , Beshrcw me ! It fitted Nur Mahal all i right, but the cap seems to sit awry when t woru by my jolly and pleasant' spoken c countess. What! Would you grin at me, c you dog, like a clown gaping through a c

] horse-collar"/ I'll wager, were the busmen yours, you'd carry a longer- jowl," S" On my ord, Roger, it- you trumpet so. loudly I must even believe that my elepliant is sore wounded. Why say aught today to (he countess? Once we arc sped ou some new path I promise to writer to her on your behalf, and in such strain that any silly notions she may be harbouring shall vanish after a day's"fasting." "licod, you know not .Matilda. .She would not miss her dinner for twenty men, and that is what draws me to her. A plague on all weddings, I say. They mar a. woman and vex a man. What the devil! A nice thing Noah did for the world when he took nowt but pairs into the Ark." Nevertheless, though angeled by his tardy discovery, Sainton was far 100 "goodnatured to steal away covertly from the genial presence of the Countess di Cav Oola. He cudgelled His brains to invent :1 some reasonable excuse for bidding her , A farewell. Finally, he hit upon an expedient that pleased him gieatlv and chased the unwonted frown from his" cheerful face. '* In view of the expected stale visit to - Jahaugir he had donned hid best garments, r which, though soiled, were yet tree from cl rents, and never a liner man trod the iron 1 earth of India than Roger that day when, - with his four-foot sword clanking against 1 his thigh, he approached the countess' 1 camping-place. Already, of course, rumour 1 had been busy. The perturbation of Fateh Mohammed and the haughty curling of - Rajput moustaches which followed the ad- - vent of Jahangir's envoy told some portion 1 of the tale to the stealthy-eyed natives. Gossip did the refit. Roger found the i countess all agog with joyous hope. " For graeia di Dios!" she cried, clap--1 ping her hands. " now that I see you wear- ; ltig your sword I know that what I have 1 been told is true." i "J' faith. Matilda, you are. a rare hand i at guessing sheep when you smell roast - mutton." was his hearty greeting. "'Tits 1 indeed true that some favouring star hath s moved the King to deal with us kindly. ; Perchance 'tis the moon, which is said "to . rule certain humans. But my news is , stale. 1 come to take leave of you." The countess* ruddy cheeks paled beneath t, the tan of long exposure to the open air, t, and a spasm of lear dilated her pretty > eyes. i "To take leave of me! Mater miseri--5 cordite! What say you'.'" "Nay, my bonny countess, you read my , words wrongly. Master Mowbray and I are bidden ride ahead to meet the Em- . peror. That is all." " You wili return ere night?" Roger stroked his chin with dubious calculation. . The action enabled him to avoid her startled glance. "I have my doubts," he said, and, not so sure now of the simplicity of his errand, wisely added not another word. "Do you mean that you go to Agra and leave me here with—with Fateh Mohammed?" There was a. directness yet a veiled inference in the question that did not escape him. "Be reasonable, Matilda," he pleaded. "We go but to prepare the way. You forget that Jahaugir. for some reason not known to any of us, is changing his plans. From fire and . murder he hath turned to clemency. It may be that lie thinks some quiet talk with Master Mowbray, may clear the thorns . from his new path." "Then let Master Mowbray go to him, and you bide here." • "That cannot be. It would argue distrust." "I think I understand," said the countess quietly, with all a woman's irritating j assumption of the truth when a man would I soothe her with a plausible talc. Roger, whose wit was keen enough when he encountered opposition, was helpless before this passive altitude. Yet he blundered on. trusting to luck to extricate him. He fumbled with a small package he took from his breast, and swayed from one loot to the other, losing some of his gallant air in an attitude which reflected his mental stress. " There's nowt to make sike a pother about." he growled. "We haste to Agra, you follow more slowly, and that is all there is to it. But you are in a sad plight, Matilda, . after these weary days of travel, without a stitch to your old clothes, so to speak, or means to buy newones. Now, a lady of your condition should be garbed more reputably. Though I doubt not Jahangir will'' treat you generously in his' altered mood ; I would not have 1 you wholly dependent on his tardy grace. I have no rnouey, but here is money's worth, and it. can never be put to better use than in rjurchasinsr the wherewithal to adorn

B ill pulUlladiilg liitJ VUJCICHIUKU lkj auviii you." ' , . . So saying, and thinkful that the concjludr ing, sentence, which be had concocted with i- some care, had not escaped his memory, he dropped Slier Afghan's magnificent gold - chain into her lap, for the countess was ) sitting on a saddle outside the tent. She bent forward, as if to examine the » present, parsing each of the; fine turquoises • with which it was set- mechanically through • her fingers. . She managed so well that her , voice seemed to be under control. You are very kind and thoughtful," she i said in a low tone. "I am, indeed, much , in need of repair." '1 ; " Gad ! I would smite sorely the man who S3,id so. I spoke of the husk, not of the . kernel." i "And I shall value the gift highly," she continued. -.. , "Stick out for the last rupee. These Agra goldsmiths are thieves. If not the whole, you might sell a portion." Her head drooped a little more. "They are beautiful links,, well knit, and of the best workmanship," she, said " and I have never before seen such stones. "' Twould be a pity to sunder them. They will be pleasant to look upon long after the flimsy silks they woukl buy are faded and threadbare." (To be continued on Wednesday next.) [PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.]