CHAPTER Xi.

REPENTANCE AND REPARATION.

In the meantime Denis had finished his very ample repast. "Better take enough for three days," he thought; "for who knows when I may have such another dinner again!" He then took the well-picked bones, and threw them out of the hole which served as a window. Denis had a shrewd idea that Sultána had not come quite lawfully by her prize, though he understood very little of the conversation passing between her and his friend.

The Irishman had no intention of letting Walter monopolise the attention of the pretty little Afghan; he had resolved to win the child's heart. Denis was indeed aware that he did not appear to advantage in his present deplorable guise; his hair matted, tangled, and stained, and his face marred with scratches and bruises. Walter's threadbare coat had split in more than one place, and the remaining part of Denis's dress was so ragged and soiled, that it afforded no temptation even to an Afghan spoiler. Denis would not have chosen to be seen thus in Bond Street, but in a robber's fort in Afghanistan deficiencies would be less noticed.

"The real gentleman shines forth in any costume," thought the Irishman; "if I can trust less to my appearance, I must trust more to my wits." Then, recalling to memory his well-conned speech, Denis thus addressed the Afghan child.

"Come, speak me, Sultána, houri! pearl of garden! rose of sea!" It is not to be wondered at if the orator made a few blunders in airing his newly-acquired Pushtoo.

The child surveyed him with an expression of mingled curiosity and doubt. She listened, but did not move from her place by Walter.

Denis, considering the extreme poverty of his materials, made a marvellous display of eloquence, aiding his halting tongue by expressive signs. "I, prince--great prince" (he pointed to himself), "Sultána, beautiful" (and again came the string of flattering epithets learned by heart). "Sultána, help--prince--get away--prince send elephant--English--silver howdah--big gold--Sultána, houri, much glad."

"Is he a prince?" looking up inquiringly at her first European friend.

"Not shahzáda (prince) but gentleman," replied Walter, giving his comrade the title in Pushtoo which would most truthfully describe his position in life.

"Has he an English elephant with silver howdah?" asked Sultána.

"Not that--but gold to buy one," was the hesitating reply.

"Come, houri, pearl of garden," resumed Denis in his most insinuating tone.

"I will not come, you tell lies!" said the child; and with this brief and startling rebuke she quitted the room.

A woeful sight met Sultána, as with light step she descended the ladder. The two men whose quarrel had given her an opportunity of carrying the stolen food to the captives, after for half-an-hour bandying fierce words and blows, had at last taken to their knives--no uncommon way of settling a dispute in the Eagle's Nest. The result was that both were now carried through the gateway into the fort, groaning and bleeding. The sight of wounds was too common to shock the little Afghan on ordinary occasions; but now in the sufferers she recognised Mir Ghazan and Ali Khan. The latter was a favourite with Sultána, as the youth had, in boyhood, often carried his lovely little cousin in his arms, and made a playmate of the beautiful child.

"Oh, Mir Ghazan, you wolf! why did you stab him?" exclaimed Sultána.

"He stole my kid!" cried Mir Ghazan.

"I did not!" was the angry denial; the war which had been carried on with knives, was prolonged in fierce words, mingled with groans.

"He did not--it was I who stole your kid!" exclaimed Sultána; "I was like Eve,--the harm comes from me, and if they die, I have killed them!" The hot tears which filled and brimmed over the little girl's eyes were tears of repentance. For the first time in her life the Afghan felt conviction of sin, the sin of breaking a commandment of God and incurring His wrath. Not an hour before Sultána had been utterly ignorant of its nature, but what Walter had written on a child's heart now seemed to flash forth in letters of fire. Sultána saw in the wounds, and heard in the groans, the result of sin--_her own sin_!

This recognition of sin and its nature may seem but the alphabet in spiritual knowledge; but, alas! how many called Christians have never learnt it! A vague acknowledgment that all are sinners, is very different indeed from the heart's confession, _I have Sinned_! Where repentance has never been known, oh how weak is faith and how cold is love! The sense of sin makes faith look up to a Saviour; the joy of receiving pardon makes love pour forth her rich offering of self-sacrifice at His feet. They love much who truly feel that they have been forgiven much.

And another lesson had also been learnt by the quick pupil, the intelligent Afghan child. With the bright drops flowing down her cheeks, Sultána ran up to the wounded men who had been laid on charpais in the court-yard, ready for the rough surgery of the barber. The girl stripped the silver bracelets from her slender wrists, and silently laid them beside the bleeding forms of Mir Ghazan and Ali Khan. Then slowly, and sadly Sultána returned to the zenana apartments above to receive the chastisement which she expected--not so much for her mischievous exploit, as for giving away her jewels. The poor child had only the comfort of knowing that she had done what she could in the way of reparation, and had done it at once.

Dermot Denis was somewhat mortified and ruffled at the result of his interview with Sultána. She was but a pretty, ignorant savage after all, he said, and was probably not to be trusted. He would rather, he averred, depend for means of escape on his own courage and skill. But how even his powers could effect his purpose was a difficult problem to solve. The outer gate was invariably secured at night, and would form an impassable barrier. The court-yard was never quite empty; or if for a few minutes it appeared to be so, who could tell how many eyes were looking forth from the recesses beyond the pillars or the trellis-covered apertures which probably lighted the zenana? Thus on the court-yard side there was clearly scarcely the faintest chance of escape. On the opposite side, where the aperture served as a window, the precipice seemed to preclude all hope; unless, indeed, a rope could be procured long enough, and strong enough to support a man of some weight as far as a clump of brushwood, from which, if active, he might possibly clamber down to more level ground. How could Denis contrive to procure such a rope? He had in the morning made an attempt to sound Ali Khan on the subject, having learnt from Walter the Pushtoo word for a rope, but the young Afghan either could not or would not understand him. Ali Khan had probably too much regard for his own neck to hazard it by aiding the prisoner's plans; and even had such not been the case, his present wounded condition precluded his giving the slightest assistance.

Denis lay awake till past midnight plotting and planning, resolved to escape in time to stop the sending of the immense sum of money required by Assad Khan for his ransom. The young Irishman fell at length into a sleep prolonged for hours after sunrise, and so profound that it was not broken by sounds which must have startled from slumber almost anyone but himself. Denis was so accustomed to rude noises from the court-yard, that the wildest uproar would scarcely have roused him. What the sounds were will be told in the following chapter.