CHAPTER XXIV.

A MEETING.

Day after day had gone past in utter monotony till Denzil's heart began to ache in the great weariness of the life he led; it was so calm and seemed so still after the fierce and keen excitement he had undergone. Had he entered upon a new state of existence? he asked of himself; if so, it was an intensely stupid one.

One evening when seated as usual on the divan at his window, looking dreamily out upon the long vista of the green valley, and the conical hill that terminated it, dim and blue in distance, he was feeling the balmy breath of the spring breeze with pleasure, and with all an invalid's relish was watching the young buds expanding, and the first flowers of the season beginning to peep from the teeming soil, when the Nazir, or steward of the household, a tall man of venerable aspect, whose beard flowed to his girdle, and the middle of whose head was shaved, came with an invitation from the Khan, to join him and his family at their evening meal.

Denzil bowed his acceptance, and in his sorely worn uniform, made what toilette he hastily could, for a Khan like the head of the Kuzzilbashes, who could bring into the field five thousand well-armed men, chiefly splendidly mounted cavalry, was assuredly a man of considerable note and power in the land, and his favour or protection were of some value in that far-away corner of the world.

In an apartment, the walls of which were prettily decorated by painted and gilded arabesques, with passages from the Koran around it, in lieu of a cornice, he found the Khan sitting on a musnud, or species of cushioned seat, that is usually reserved for persons of distinction. A lady was seated by his side, and both were so intent upon a game of chess, that neither looked up when Denzil entered.

Seated on the floor, but on rich carpets, were the wife of the Khan, a woman of some forty years old, very sallow and _passée_, her long camise of green. Cabul silk, ornamented with golden crescents sewn on; her hair, as yet untinged with grey, arranged in countless plaits, her hands odiously reddened to the hue of coral, and her two daughters, passably pretty women, with their hair loose and their trousers white, in token of being unmarried, and all three wearing many chains of gold and strings of Venetian sequins.

Denzil bowed low, and paused irresolutely, waiting to be greeted by the Khan; but that personage was bending over the board deeply intent on the game, his long white beard floating above the ivory chessmen, his bushy brows and wrinkled forehead full of thought, his brown and thick-veined hands contrasting strongly with the slender snow-white fingers of his opponent, whose hand was indeed a delicate and lovely one; her face, however, was concealed by her position, and the mode in which she wore her veil; and Denzil knew the peril of seeming too curious.

Like those of the other three ladies, her dress was of the finest Cabul silk, but of a rose colour, and covered her whole figure, as a night-robe would have done; like the Khan's daughters, her trousers were also white, her slippers high-heeled and shod with iron. Crescents of silver were sewn over all her loose hanging sleeves, and the breast of her dress was literally a mass of them, so that it shone in the sunlight like a cuirass.

The wife of the Khan clapped her hands, the ordinary mode of summoning attendants in the East, as she wished the trays with refreshments introduced. This caused Shireen and his companion to look round, and an exclamation of profound astonishment, in which joy and something of deep anxiety mingled, echoed through the apartment, when Denzil and Rose--Rose Trecarrel--recognised each other!

On this, one of the Khan's daughters hastily assumed, but for a few minutes only, her _bourkha_ or veil of white muslin, which had a space of open network for the eyes; and the other whispered to her mother some indignant remark concerning "the effrontery of a Kaffir coming into their presence with his jorabs (_i.e._, shoes) on."

If it be true that "among a crowd of total strangers an acquaintance ranks as a friend," how great must have been the emotions of the volatile Rose, on meeting her avowed lover among those odious and horrible Afghans!

"Rose!"

"Denzil!"

After all they had mutually undergone, the sound of their own names and their own language, had in them so much of home and the past, that both were deeply moved; and heedless of those who were present, forgetting all about them in fact, the impulsive girl flung herself into his arms, and he pressed her to his breast. So, to the undemonstrative Orientals, they formed a very unexpected tableau. She had undergone so much and her agitations were so complicated, that for some time she was quite incapable of speech and could only sob hysterically. She was very pale and worn, but he was so too.

"So you also are a prisoner--do you forgive me now, Denzil?" she asked in a low voice.

"Forgive you--oh Rose, I could die for you!" he responded, passionately.

How often in the visions of the night and in the reveries of the day--those trances of thought to which all at times abandon themselves--had Denzil pictured to himself Rose Trecarrel reclining in his arms, even as on that day by the lake, Rose so bright, so fair and beautiful, and now he held her in reality!

But though she had deceived him once and might do so again, no such fear occurred to him then, and forgotten too were all the bantering remarks of Polwhele and Burgoyne (now, alas, no more) which had excited so much pique, jealousy, and fury in his heart. She was, he knew, so lonely in the world, and she looked so lovely and so helpless. After a time, she said, anxiously,

"There has been great slaughter, I have heard; poor Papa, he has escaped I am sure, and dear Mab and Waller are safe, and all the rest?"

"_All_ cannot have escaped!" was Denzil's vague response; "yet you have done so, and that is enough for me, darling."

She now poured upon him questions, some of which he dreaded to answer. When and where was he taken prisoner? Whom of those she loved had he seen last? Of her father, of Mabel and Waller Denzil professed total ignorance. He only knew that the body of the poor General had disappeared, and of subsequent events he knew nothing save that many ladies and officers of rank were retained in Cabul, held there by Ackbar Khan, as hostages for the future evacuation of Jellalabad; so hope and lightness of heart began to dawn on Rose, for neither she nor Denzil were aware of the exact state of matters, or of all the calamities that had befallen their friends.

"And Mabel--dear, dear, Mabel," she exclaimed in a touching voice, "how often do I dream of her, and fancy at times that I feel her cheek, wet with tears, against mine; for though but a little older than I, she has ever been as a mother to me, and these visions are passages of intense emotion, Denzil. Our mamma, who died so long ago, comes to me in my sleep and poor papa too, looking just as when I kissed him last, ere we went to rest, in that wretched tent in the snowy Pass; so my heart is wrung with suffering and I shed tears, Denzil--hot salt tears in my sleep--I, who used to be so merry and thoughtless!"

The Khan and his family were, for the time, utterly forgotten; so was his game of chess, and he gazed alternately from the rooks, pawns, and castles, to the lovers, in great and grave bewilderment, for in the _empressement_ of their meeting, there seemed something more than the mere joy of two friends, or natives of the same country recognising each other. Were they brother and sister, or husband and wife, or what?

"But how came you to be here--what happened?" asked Denzil.

Her story, with all its apparent mystery, was both short and simple. She had heard shots in the night, and was peeping from the door of the tent, while her weary companions slept. A crowd of Afghans were passing,--the Shah's 6th Regiment were deserting _en masse_. A _loonghee_, or turban-cloth, was cast over her face by one of them, who twisted it across her mouth in such a manner as to stifle her cries completely; a havildar, mounted on a stolen horse, dragged her up beside him, and thus she was borne off, unseen in the dark, as they evidently believed that a white woman would be deemed the most valuable species of loot by some wealthy Khan or Nawab. When day broke they found themselves among the Black Rocks, near Cabul, and then a vehement dispute ensued between the havildar and her first captor as to to whom she should belong--whether they should keep, sell, or cast lots for her. Knives were promptly drawn; but some Kuzzilbash Horse came up and solved the difficulty by sabreing them both. They then carried her off to the fort of Shireen Khan, who had treated her with marked kindness and hospitality; and now she and Denzil turned towards him, and the latter expressed his extreme gratitude for all he had done for them both, adding, that he hoped they would be mercifully permitted to rejoin their friends and people.

But Khan Shireen shook his head, and replied, "Sahib, you know not what you ask, or how your friends are situated. Your army has been destroyed on its downward march to Jellalabad, and the hope of Ackbar is, that if the Sirdir Sale quits that city for Peshawur, the wild Khyberees and Ghilzies will soon annihilate his army too."

And such was indeed the hope of those in power at Cabul.

"Then our forces suffered severely, Khan?" said Denzil.

"So severely, that but one remained alive to tell the tale."

Denzil smiled at this, believing it to be mere Oriental hyperbole.

The entrance of servants with trays, on which were plums, peaches, and other fruit preserved in sugar, sweet chupatties, and a flask or two of yellow Derehnur wine (though forbidden by the Prophet), enabled Denzil to address some apologies to the ladies of the house, who invited him to seat himself on the edge of their carpet, an unwonted honour; and then the simple collation proceeded without the use of spoons or forks, which are alike unknown in that region.

Fresh southern-wood was thrown on the fire, and its fragrance filled all the apartment with a powerful perfume.

Rose felt herself constrained, but most unwillingly, to resume her part of chess-player, which she did in silence, as she scarcely knew a word of the Khan's language, but he had been delighted with her on first learning that she could play the knightly game, and play it well too, as chess is peculiarly an Oriental pastime, and was brought into Europe originally by the returned Crusaders.

"Shabash!" (Bravo) he exclaimed, and patted her kindly on the shoulder, as she again took her place near him; but her eyes ever wandered from the chess-board to the face of Denzil, whom the Kuzzilbash lady and her daughters overwhelmed with questions, many of which they had long since asked Rose. Among these were the three invariable queries, whether the East India Company was a man or a woman; if it was true that our ruler in Feringhistan was a Queen, and if the men in that region wore trousers, while the women did not. They conversed with him freely, and without constraint, for among the Afghans, unlike other races which profess the Moslem faith, intercourse between the sexes is somewhat on an European footing, and the home of the Afghan husband is one which deserves to be accounted such, as all his leisure hours are spent with his wife and children; and he leads his guest without fear or scruple into the family circle. Hence, with all their ferocity, the passion of love is neither unknown nor unhonoured among them.

Two or three days elapsed after their meeting before Denzil and Rose Trecarrel became aware that so many hostages were retained in the hands of Ackbar as pledges, to answer with their lives, or at least with their liberties, for the final withdrawal of all our troops from Afghanistan, including Sir Robert Sale's Brigade in Jellalabad and General Nott's division, 9000 strong, in Candahar; and now they found that, owing to a split in the enemy's camp, and a coolness between the Sirdir and the Khan Shireen, the latter was detaining them _in secret_ as hostages on his own account.

"Set me free!" she had frequently implored of him.

"Not if you gave me all the lost riches of Khosroo," he replied, referring to the supposed buried treasure of Cyrus.

She had next besought aid of his wife, who shook her head, and said laughingly--

"Ere long, you will too probably be sold to a chief in Toorkistan, and live in a castle, or perhaps a tent, as his wife; if he chooses to make you such before the Cadi," added the Kuzzilbash lady, gazing with her great black eyes into the clear hazel orbs of the shocked and perplexed English girl, and feeling herself the while as much embarrassed in their difference of ideas as if her guest had come from Jupiter, Saturn, or any other of those planets which to her were but as lamps set in the sky by God or the Prophet, she knew not which, as the moollahs were somewhat uncertain on the subject.

But now the great event of having the society of Denzil made Rose, who had previously felt herself so friendless and forlorn, so desolate and lost, much more hopeful and contented; and something of her old coquetry came to the surface again, when daily he walked with her in the garden of the fort, as they were never permitted to go beyond its walls. They had both undergone much, and witnessed some frightful scenes; but it was with them there, as with those who dwell "in the countries where earthquakes are frequent, and where in almost every century some terrible convulsion has laid a whole city in ruins--the inhabitants acquire a strange indifference to peril till the very instant of its presence, and learn to forget calamities when once they have passed."