And, O sweet Love, I pray you yield me now
One little pearl from the fair coronal
That crowns the loveliness of that calm brow,
And I, where'er I be, will own its thrall,
And gaze on it and dream until I see
A phantom love, before whom I shall fall
And pray, adoring white-robed purity."
CHAPTER V.
"Your lofty faith and devotion, my son, move me deeply. The heroic
spirit of my brother Raee seems once more to incite me to deeds of
daring which in these degenerate days would alas be vain."
So spoke Lehna Singh in the midst of luxury and splendour that had been
amassed in no hazardous career of adventure or enterprise, but by
methods of coldest calculation and avarice. His listeners were his
nephew, whom he addressed, and the Rajah Lal Singh, chief favourite of
the notorious Ranee, a man of cringing and servile demeanour,
notwithstanding his rank, whose crafty smile followed the speaker's
words as he scrutinized the countenance of Atma, as if to learn their
effect. The apartment in which they sat was an inner chamber, small,
secluded, and silent, for the fame of Lal, lately Wuzeer to the little
Maharajah, but for grave offences disgraced and removed from Lahore, was
such as to demand caution on the part of those who would consort with
him.
"Before I can explain to you," proceeded Lehna, "the last words of my
departed brother, I have a tale to unfold, a tale which will reveal to
you in how high a degree your coming has been opportune.
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