THE BLUE DRAGOONS.

King Country Chronicle, Volume VI, Issue 489, 7 August 1912, Page 2

THE BLUE DRAGOONS.

AH Rights Reserved.

AN INDIAN SOLDIER STORY. BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. PART 22. " Alsa," he said, speaking thickly, with emotion, " if I had a heart tc give it should be yours, for youi sweet, womanly trustfulness and generosity. I thought you would he ready to take revenge for the slight I offered you, and yet you came to me, and offered your help." " Yes," she said, with a hysterical sob, " I came to offer you help, not for them because I hate —hate them both ; for one holds your love, and I could kill her." These last words were hissed out angrily, and Lawrence was withdrawing his . hand, but the girl clung to it.

"No, no," she sobbed, "forgive me if I am mad. I will do all you wish, but you must take me too, or Hissar will tear me limb from limb." "Yes, yes," exclaimed Lawrence, sagerly ; ' 'and they will be, like sisters to you, and live in gratitude to you for having saved them from a horrible fate."

" Yes," said Alsa, " a horrible fate. But should I help them to be Happy at the cost of my own misery ? I cannot do it —I cannot do it. Freda, Freda, you will make me mad."

" Alsa, my child," whispered Lawrence, whose heart sank once moretor she was going—"come back to me."

She hesitated for a moment, and ;hen his voice seemed to exercise influence sufficient to bring her back tc the wicket. ■ "What do you want ?" she said, coldly. "To beg—to pray of you to help me," he said. "Yes, to her side —to her arms—that her kisses may be mingled with yours, that her hands may play amongst your hair. Yes, that I may make you lovers and break my own heart. Look, Feringhee ; I told you I loved you—that I was your slave, and I came. But it is too much—l cannot help you. Why did you come tiere ?" "But, Alsa, those poor girls—so young and so innocent," groaned Lawrence. " As you are a woman, help me." " I cannot—cannot do it," ex claimed Alsa, passionately. "Daj s back I meant to have you killed—to betray you to Hissar—and the devil that was in me bade me do it; but I could not ; I was too weak." "Nay, say strong in your goodness of heart," whispered Lawrence.' "You will help me. You will take a letter to the sisters from me, bidding them hope ?" "What need of that ?" said Alsa, bitterly. "They know that you are here." "They know !" he exclaimed, joy* fully. "Yes, I told them, and they prajed that you would save them from a tate worse than death.—yes, a fate worse than death." "Alsa," panted Lawrence, "and you refuse to help me—refuse to t>e my guide or messenger ? Are you a woman ?" " Ices," she hissed, speaking. with an intensity - of passion that made him shudder. It is because I am a woman that I cannot do it. It is because I love you so"—she panted as she stretched her hands through the wicket, and caught his—"that I would sooner see you lying there j with your blood dabbling that marble | Boor, than in her arms. I am a woman, who has been made what she ' is, and though she thought to have sonquered it is all in vain. Now go. |Flee for your lives, for they are no Longer safe here." v "No," said Lawrence, sadly, "I shall not flee. I came to save them, and if I cannot, I will die where I stand." " And you love them so much ?" said Alsa, scornfully. " Yes," said the young man, proudly—" so much that I would give my life to save theirs." " And yet," exclaimed the passionate woman, " you would not give up your love—your selfish: love—to save them." Lawrence started. "Do they love you ?" Alsa asked. " I hope that one can love," said Lawrence, mournfully. " Pool !" exclaimed Alsa. "You hope ; and for this you refuise mj i Love—my deep lasting love. You hope —No ; you do not love either of those fair-skinned women or you would save them." Lawrence stood panting by the wicket with his heart beating heavily a strange sense of misery oppressing him, and Alsa was once mo3*e moving away, but he caught her dress. " Alsa," he said, " could tyou save them ?" " Yes, I believe so," was the cool reply. " Could you help, to prepare them for the flight, and get them to this door, and then guide us through the palace to, the outer gates ?" " Yes," was the reply. Lawrence made an effort and tried to speak again, but the words would not come ; for floating before him he saw an Eden, in which sat one of the governor's daughters, an-.d as if in a dream were §>assed in. review days of hope and happjnes ss—days that he must give- up for; ever, and he shuddered and groaned -udth anguish ; but on the other hanil there was the future of those two '.Snglish girls, and he recalled the wo adering Alsa, and asked himself again. if he was not ready to give up his life for their sakes. He knew that he was. This sacrifice, then, must be made, .although it |

seemed even worse than death, foi afterwards they must never meet again. The silence in that lonely place was so deep that Lawrence heard his own heart beating, as at last he muttered : " Darling, it !s that you may live," and he pressed his hands for a moment on his brow. The next moment he was a changed man. His resolution was taken and he prayed for strength, that he might be faithful to his new trust. " Alsa," he whispered, but there was no response. "Alsa," he whispered again, more loudly ; and this time there was a rustling noise, as the girl rose from where she had crouched upon the marble floor. "You called me." she said, coldly. " Speak quickly, for I must go. Those who keep watch iiere will soon be round, and I must be bacfo in my chamber."

" Alsa, you told me," whispered Lawrence, as he passed one hand through the wicket and took one that was cold as the stone upon which it was lying —" you told me that you would be my slave —that you loved me. Show me that it is true."

His words were not many, but deep and intense in tone, and as he spoke the little cold hand began to throb and glow, and then it was snatched away, but only to be passed through the wicket, with its fellow, to clasp the young man's neck, as Alsa's burning lips were pressed passionately to his. " You love me then, you do love me ?" she murmured. " Freda —tell, me —tell me what to do," she panted, " and I will do it to giving the last drop of my blood. But those sisters —you will be true to me —you will not —"

" Deceive you !" he said, sadly. "No, child, an English gentleman gives you his word. That is all at an end." Alsa struggled to reach him once again ; but her quick ear detected langer on her own side of the door, and with a warning " Hist !" she ;losed the wicket and fled. Lawrence stood motionless, merely turning his back to the door and Leaning upon his sword. " Good-bye, darling," he muttered, softly. "-Good-bye to my dream of love, and hope, and joy. Darling," ae continued, apostrophising the empty air, which he peopled with the forms of the two fair sisters —"darting, I loved you with all a true man's love, and I do this —I give up all—all, love, that you may live. Some day you will know —some day, when you look upon me as dishonourable and false, you may awaken to the truth. Heaven send the time, and give you happiness !''

CHAPTER XVIII. ' IN THE ZENANA. Lawrence was still standing perfectly motionless, when Melton came to relieve him, freshlj wakened from sleep. " Well," he said " anything fresh?" Lawrence did not answer hut stood gazing straight before him into space. " Fred, is anything wrong ?" exclaimed Melton, struck by the strangeness of his companion's manner.

" Wrong," said Lawrence, turning to him with a strange smile upon his lips. " Oh, no, n'othing wrong ! C have sold myself to the devil !"

" Fred —Lawrence — speak man'!" axclaimed Melton, catching his hand. " Are you ill ?" " No," said the other, sadly. " Quite well. lam not mad, Jack, but quite calm and sane, and in no need of a doctor, but it's all over now." " Has the Rana been ?"

" No, not to-night," was the reply

" There is something wrong, Fred, why do you not speak out," said Melton, eagerly. " Jack, old man," said Lawrence, with a sad smile upon his face —"the devil appeared to me to-night in the form of a beautiful woman, and said to me: " Those two sweet English girls are but a few yards away, asking your help ; and you do not stii a step to save them. Sell joursell to me and they shall be free." " Fred," whispered Melton, upon whose countenance a peculiar look flashed.

" I love one of them with all my soul, Jack, and of late my dreams have been of a heaven upon earth, where we two might dwell, but my darling is threatened with a fate worse then death, and I cannot save her. I would lay down my poor life to save her, but that is not enough, Jack," he continued speaking simply and quietly. " The devil says, 'No, you must give up your soul. Give her up, and give me that, and she and her sister shall be safe."

" Fred," panted Jack, in whose eyes a joyous light shone in spite oj himself.

" Yes, Jack ; but I thought it a! over, felt my own selfishness, anc told mj self that it was my duty tc save her at any cost to my own feelings. ■ But if giving her up for evei would save her from a life and de gradation and misery, it is mj duty to do so, Jack," he said, smiling sadly, " I have sold myseh for their sakes."

" Fred," panted Melton, again He could say no more, for til? feel ing of delight that came over him He was enraged with himself, though, the while ; but still the feeling woulc come to him, that this man —his faithful friend —loved the same , woman as he, and that if Fred Law rence by his own act, removed himself, from his path, there would hf hope.

The thought was so unworty o his honest nature that he blushed foi them, and could not look Lawrenci in the face.

" Jack," said Lawrence, sadly

"that woman loves me with all the mad passion of these children of the sun. She told me she would save them—would help me to flight ; but the price was that she should have no cause for jealousy there."

And you, Fred, you who love one of those pure, sweet, English girls girls !" cried Melton.

" Dearly, Jack—more dearly than my own life—sold myself deliberately sold myself, that they may live. Have I done well ?"

" No, no, it cannot be !" exclaimed Melton, making a supreme effort over himself and speaking honestly from his heart.

Yes, yes, it can and must be!" said Lawrence, sadly. "It is all arranged. One word, Jack, and then the subject is buried for ever. If we have luck I shall keep by their

side, just as much as is necessary ; but I shall exchange no word with them. I could not. But some time

in the future, Jack, tell them—tell them how I loved, and why I behaved more like a scoundrel than an English officer and a gentleman ; for I believe she knows I love her." " I'm sure she does ; and loves you in return." " Don't—don't, Jack," groaned Lawrence. " This is too hard to bear. But you will tell them both." "I will," said Melton, " But this woman—this Alsa ?" " Will be my wife," replied Lawrence, calmly. " Poor thing ! I crossed her path. It is, as these Easterns would say, kismet —fate. She loves me very dearly. I have made her believe in me, and she shall have no cause to regret it all ; for she risks her life in the stake she plays. Good night." Lawrence walked slowly away, and Melton stood speechless, struggling with his feelings. He felt convinced that Lawrence dearly loved Laura, and that his love %vas returned ; and in consequence he had, when seamed and scarred by the explosion, calm-

ly accepted his fate —not in the least degree descending from the friendship he had for his companion. It had been a hard and bitter struggle ; i>ut he had said, " I love her so well that I would not interfere to cast a shadow on her young life." But now the obstacle was voluntarily removed, and in spite of his bitter feelings it was impossible to help a sense of elation stealing over him, more however, that to the honour of his manhood be is said, he succeeded in crushing down. He had been standing at his post

for about an hour, when hlc felt a light touch upon his arm, and turning sharply, a paper was thrust into his hands and the wicket was instantly closed. Melton's heart beat high, as, taking the note to the light, he saw that it was in a woman's hand, hastily scribbled in pencil. " Dear Mr. Melton and Mr. Lawrence, —Alsa tells me that you are here at great risks to yourselves and that you are making plans for our escape. We are ready at any moment, and pray you, as you hold dear the honour and safety of two Englishwomen to lose no time. We are dying from fear and dread of the wretch who holds us in his power.— Ella and Laura Leslie." Melton walked as far as the anteroom and handed the note to Lawrence who was sitting motionless upon the divan. He took the note and read it. " Brave little woman," he said, " she is working well. Now about plans. What is to be done?" " Nothing can be dane till tomorrow night," said Melton. "Then, at any cost, we must escape. They cannot be left longer." " Well," said Lawrence, " we know our way to the court where the horses are tethered. One of us must steal out there, and have three ready —the best and strongest that can be got—and the other two must go in and bring out the prisoners." "And then how to get away ?" I asked Melton.

"We must have Hissar's signet. That will pass us at any moment. We can get that I think ?" " Easily," said Melton. "We can easily gag and bind him, locking him in the room here. Then with his key and signet all ought to be easy." " Let us hope it may be," said Laurence calmly, " Are you ready, Jackson ?"

" Longing for it, sir. I'll get the horses, if you'll trust the job to me."

" So be it," said Melton, who was hastily writing a line in reply, and returned to his post, ready to send it should there be an opportunity. The opportunity did not come, and as no further steps could be taken until Alsa had been again seen, another night and day passed. The next anxiously looked for night had come, and Lawrence was on duty ; but though he walked up and down for hours there was no sign at the wicket, and at last, being bound to beep to time lest they excite suspicion, Lawrence came away from the Eenana door, and Jackson, who had been fully instructed how to proceed went on guard. Meanwhile the two officers had taken what steps they could to prepare for their journey, so as to be ready for flight at a moment's notice.

For some reason or other the Rana had not been near the zenana for the past two days, unless, as the adventurers began to fear, he had beer there by a door other than the private one over which they kept watch. , Jackson then was on duty, sword in hand, listening to the faint distant sounds of tramping' horses, braying trumpets, and beating drums. There was evidently some unusual disturbance in the place, but thos< who occupied the gloomy corridor, and its ante-room had no means c* learning what it was.

.To bet Continued.: