Tremulously at first, then with quickening confidence, her happy nature rose like a sea-bird out of troubled waters, on the wings of a secret hope....

And now he was here, under this friendly roof that sheltered her from the tender mercies of her own kind. There were almost daily meetings, however brief, and the after-glow of them when past; all the well-remembered tricks of speech and manner; and the twinkle of fun in his eyes. Lapped in an ecstasy of content, hope scarcely stirred a wing.

Enough that he was there----

Great was her joy when Mrs Leigh--after scolding him in the kindest way over the girl mother and two more starving children, picked up afterwards--had given her leave to take special charge of them and lodged them with the dhobi's wife. This also brought her nearer to Roy.

And what could she ask more?

But with the approach of the Dewali, thoughts of the future came flocking like birds at sundown. Because, on Dewali night, all tried their luck in some fashion; and Mai Lakshmi's answer failed not. The men tossed coin or dice. The maidens, at sunset, when the little wind of evening stirred the waters, carried each her chiragh--lamp of her life--and set it afloat on tank or stream, praying Mai Lakshmi to guide it safe across. If the prayer was heard, omens were favourable. If the lamp should sink, or be shattered, omens were evil. And the centuries-old Aruna--still at the mercy of dastur--had secretly bought her little chiragh; secretly resolved to try her fate on the night of nights. If the answer were unfavourable--and courage failed her--there was always one way of escape. The water that put out her lamp would as carelessly put out the flame of her life--in a little moment--without pain....

A small shiver convulsed her--kneeling there in her balcony; her bare arms resting on the bal.u.s.trade. The new Aruna shrank from thought of death. She craved the fulness of life and love--kisses and rapture and the clinging arms of little children....

For, as she knelt in the moonlight, nominally she was invoking Mai Lakshmi; actually she was dreaming of Roy; chiding herself for the foolishness that had kept her from appearing at dinner; hoping he might wonder, and perhaps think of her a little--wishing her there. And all the while, perhaps he was simply not noticing--not caring one little bit----!

Stung by the thought, she clenched her hands and lifted her bowed head.

Then she started--and caught her breath----

Could it be he, down there among the shadows--wandering, dreaming, thinking of her, or making poems? She knew most of his slim volume by heart.

More likely, he was framing bold plans to find Dyan--now the answer to her letter had come. It was a strange unsatisfying answer; full of affection, but too full of windy phrases that she was shrewd enough to recognise as mere echoes from those others, who had ensnared him in a web of words.

"Fear not for me, sister of my heart," he wrote. "Rejoice because I am dedicated to service of the Mother, that she may be released from political bondage and shine again in her ancient glory--no longer exploited by foreigners, who imagine that with bricks and stones they can lock up Veda--eternal truth! The G.o.ds have spoken. It is time. Kali rises in the East, with her necklet of skulls--Giants of evil she has slain. It is she who speaks through the voice of the patriot: 'Do not wall up your vision, like frogs in a well.... Rise above the Penal Code to the rarefied atmosphere of the Gita and consider the actions of heroic men.'

"You ask if I still love Roy? Why not? He is of our own blood and a very fine fellow. But I don't write now because he would not understand my fervour of soul. So don't you take all his opinions for gospel; like my grandfather's, they are well meant, but obsolete. If only you had courage, Aruna-ji, to accept the enlightened husband, who might not keep you in strict purdah, then we could work together for liberation of the Mother. Sing _Bande Mataram_,[11] forty thousand brothers! That is our battle-cry. And one of those is your own fond brother--Dyan Singh."

Aruna had read and re-read that bewildering effusion till tears fell and blotted the words. Could this be the same Dyan who had known and loved England even as she did? His eloquence somehow failed to carry conviction. To her, the soul of new India seemed like a book, full of contradictions, written in many strange languages, hard to read. But behind that tangle of words beat the heart of Dyan--the brother who was her all.

Still no address was given. But Roy had declared the Delhi postmark sufficient clue. Directly Dewali was over, he would go. And, by every right impulse, she ought to be more glad than sad. But the heart, like the tongue, can no man tame. And sometimes his eagerness to go hurt her a little. Was he thinking of Delhi down there--or of her----?

The shadow had turned and was moving towards her. There was a white splash of shirt-front, the glow of a cigarette.

Suddenly his pace quickened. He had seen her. Next moment he was standing under her balcony. His low-pitched voice came distinctly to her ears.

"Good evening--Juliet! Quit your dreaming. Come and be sociable down here."

Delicious tremors ran through her. Much too bold, going down in the dark. But how to resist?

"I think--better not," she faltered, incipient surrender in her tone.

"You see--not coming down to dinner ... Mrs Leigh ..."

"Bother Mrs Leigh. I've got a ripping inspiration about Delhi---- Hurry up. I'll be by the steps."

Then he _had_ been thinking of Delhi. But he wanted her now; and the note of command extinguished hesitation. Slipping on a cloak, she reached the verandah without meeting a soul. He put out a hand. Purely on impulse she gave him her left one; and he conducted her down the steps with mock ceremony, as if leading her out to tread a measure to unheard strains of the viola and spinet.

Happiness ran like wine in her veins: and catching his mood she swept him a curtsey, English fashion.

"Fit for the Queen's Drawing-room!" he applauded; and she smiled up at him under her straight lashes. "Why didn't you appear at dinner? Is it a whim--hiding your light under a bushel? Or do you get headaches and heartaches working in the ward, and feel out of tune with our frivol?"

The solicitude in his tone was worth many headaches and heartaches to hear again. But with him she could not pretend.

"No--not that!" she said, treading the gra.s.s beside him, as if it were a moonlit cloud. "Only sometimes ... I am foolish--not inclined for so many faces; and all the lights and the talk."

He nodded. "I know the feeling. The same strain in us, I suppose. But, look here, about Dyan. It suddenly struck me I'd have ten times better chance if I went as an Indian. I can talk the language to admiration.

What d'you think?"

She caught her breath. A vision of him so transformed seemed to bring him surprisingly nearer. "How exciting! How bold!"

"Yes--but not impossible. And no end of a lark. If I could lodge with some one who knew, I believe I could pull it through. Grandfather might arrange that. It would give me a chance to get in among Dyan's set and hear things. Don't breathe a word to any one. I must talk it all over with Grandfather."

"Oh! I would love to see you turned into a Rajput," she breathed.

"You _shall_ see me. I'll come and make my salaams and ask your blessing on my venture."

"And I will make _prasad_ for your journey!" Her unveiled eyes met his frankly now. "A portion for Dyan too. It may speak to his heart clearer than words."

"_Prasad_? What's that?"

"Food prepared and consecrated by touch of mother or sister or--or nearest woman relation. And by absence of those others ... it is ... my privilege----"

"_My_ privilege. I would not forgo it for a kingdom," Roy interposed, such patent sincerity in the reverend quiet of his tone that she was speechless....

For less than half an hour they strolled on that moon-enchanted lawn.

Nothing was said by either that the rest might not have heard. Yet it was a transfigured Aruna who approached the verandah, where Thea stood awaiting them; having come out to look for Roy and found the clue to his prolonged meditations.

"What have you been plotting, you two?" she asked lightly when they reached her. To Roy her eyes said: "D'you call _this_ being discreet?"

To Aruna her lips said: "Graceless one! I thought you were _purdah nashin_ this evening!"

"So she was," Roy answered for her. "I'm the culprit. I insisted. Some details about my Delhi trip, I wanted to talk over."

Thea wrinkled her forehead. "Roy--you mustn't. It's a crazy plan----"

"Pardon me--an inspired plan!" He drew himself up half an inch the better to look down on her. "Nothing on earth can put me off it--except Grandfather. And I know he'll back me up."

"In that case, I won't waste valuable verbal ammunition on you! Come along in--We're going to have music."

But as Roy moved forward, Aruna drew back. "Please--I would rather go to bed now. And--please, forgive, little Mother," she murmured caressingly. For this great-hearted English woman seemed mother indeed to her now.

For answer, Thea took her by the shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. "Not guilty this time, _piari_.[12] But don't do it again!"

Roy's hand closed hard on hers, but he said not a word. And she was glad.

Alone again on her balcony, gladness rioted through all her being.

Yet--nothing had really happened. Nothing had been said.

Only--everything felt different inside. Of such are life's supreme moments. They come without flourish of trumpets; touch the heart or the lips with fire, and pa.s.s on....

While undressing, an impulse seized her to break her chiragh and treasure the pieces--in memory of to-night. Why trouble Mai Lakshmi with a question already half answered? But, lost in happy thoughts--inwoven with delicate threads of sound from Thea's violin--she forgot all about it, till the warmth of her cheek nestled against the cool pillow. Too lazy and comfortable to stir, she told her foolish heart that to-morrow morning would do quite as well.

But the light of morning dimmed, a little, her mood of exalted a.s.surance. Habit and superst.i.tion prevailed over that so arrogant impulse, and the mystic chiragh of destiny was saved--for another fate.