CHAPTER XVI.
LEONARD AND ULAMA.
"How I should like to see this wondrous outside world that you comefrom!" said Ulama dreamily. "The more you tell me of it, the more youwhet my curiosity, and the more I long to see its marvels for myself."
"And yet," was Elwood's answer, "nowhere will you find so marvellouslybeautiful a scene as that which now surrounds us. I have travelled agood deal myself; and my friend Jack much more; and Monella, where hashe not been? He seems to have visited every corner of the world! Yethe said to me, but yesterday, that he thought this the fairest spot onearth; and in this Jack agrees, so far as his experience extends.
"Since I first came here I have looked upon it from many points ofview; from the water, as the boat drifts from one side to the other;from different places round the shore; from various spots on the rockyterraces above; and these different views I have seen under all theshifting effects of sunlight, moonlight, and in the mountain mist. Yetdo I find myself unable to decide which I like the best. Whatever Ido, wherever I happen to be, I see constantly some fresh enchantment,some new charm, some effect at once unexpected and delightful; till Istrive in vain to make up my mind which I admire the most."
It was about a week after the arrival in the city of the threetravellers; and Ulama and Leonard were seated in a favourite boat inwhich the princess was wont to spend a large portion of her time.It was, really, a small barge, of curious but graceful design andelaborate decoration. Over the after part was a white and light-blueawning; the bow ran up in the shape of a bird with out-stretched wingswrought in gold and silver, and the stern was fashioned like a fishwith scales of blue and gold, its tail being movable, and running downbelow the water-line to form the rudder. Upon the sides provision wasmade for several oars; but this morning Ulama and Elwood had put offalone, content that the boat should drift wherever the slight air orcurrent might direct.
Truly Leonard had not over-rated the beauty of the scene around them;scarce indeed would it be possible to do so. The water was a dazzlingblue, yet so clear and limpid that it seemed more like a film of tintedair than water, so that the eye could pierce to great depths wheremany strange creatures could be seen. The sun, high in the sky, poureddown its rays upon the buildings and the trees, in some parts lightingup only the tops and throwing purple shadows over the rest; in otherplaces, touches of vivid green contrasted with the pink-white tints ofthe faces of the buildings; the whole quivering in the shimmering hazethat conveys an idea of unsubstantiality in what one sees--a suggestionthat it may be only a mirage that a passing breeze may dissipate.
Ulama was leaning in contented listlessness over the boat's side,her hand playing idly in the water. On the shapely arm, bare to theelbow, was a plain gold band in which was set a single diamond thateven crowned heads might have envied. It flashed and sparkled in thesunlight with dazzling fire and power. A gold fillet, set with anothermatchless diamond, confined her hair, which fell loosely in wavytresses round her shoulders. Her dress was of finest work, its texturethin as gossamer; pure white with here and there a silken knot of blue.It was gathered into her waist by a golden zone whose clasp was hiddenby another and even larger diamond. No other style of dress could haveso well set off the perfect symmetry and beauty of her figure. Thus,bending in unconscious ease over the boat's side, the young girl formedone of the rarest models of maidenly grace and loveliness that couldthat morning have been found amongst Eve's daughters.
Yet, probably, to most observers, the purity and sweetness that lookedout from her soft, wistful eyes would have seemed the chief and mostattractive charm of this radiant maiden of the 'city of the clouds.'And her gentle, lustrous eyes were the index of the pure and lovingsoul within.
No wonder, therefore, that she was, beyond compare, the best loved, themost honoured person in the land.
She was her father's chief, almost his only, joy. Apart from her hefound but little that gave him happiness. At the same time he lovedhis people and honestly desired to do his best for them; and gladlywould he have made great sacrifices to bring about their emancipationfrom the priestly tyranny that oppressed them. But he shrank from theextreme step of precipitating a civil war; yet the alternative ofallowing things to take their course and continue in the old groovegrieved him deeply; so much so that his distress had begun to take theform of settled melancholy. His courtiers, who were devoted to him,noticing this, themselves became a prey to anxious misgivings, fearingin it the first symptoms of the sole incurable disease they knew--thatwhich they termed the 'falloa.'
Leonard's last words had started a fresh train of thought in the younggirl's mind, and presently she spoke again.
"Do you then mean that you would fain pass your life with us; you towhom the great world beyond is known, with all its endless interest?It seems strange that! Methinks that, were I in your place, I shoulddeem life here but colourless and childish. For me, certainly, it hassufficed. I have a father who loves me dearly--dotes on me; my mother Inever knew. She died when I was very young. I have kind friends aroundme whom I love, and who love me, and who seem to think far more of methan I deserve. And, were it not for the sadness in the land, I thinkI should be very happy; certainly I should be contented. Yet, nowthat you have told me of a spacious world beyond, full of all sortsof mysteries and unheard-of marvels, I confess I should like to seesomething of it."
"To do so would bring you no lasting pleasure," Leonard answered. "Ifwe--if I--who have looked upon these things, have been brought upamongst them, if I am weary of them, and never care to see them more,and would spend the remainder of my life here, for you they would haveno attractions."
Ulama glanced up shyly at him from under her long lashes.
"But are you--would you?" she asked with a slight blush. "Would youtruly like to stay here all your life--never to go back to your ownland?"
"Yes! I _do_ mean that!" And there was a fervid glow in Leonard'scountenance. "All my life I have had a restlessness impelling me toseek--I knew not what--in distant lands. All my life I have had strangedreams and visions; not only in the stillness of the night, but alsoamidst the busy hum of day, and in all these one form was ever present;it hovered round me so that I could almost see and touch it. But--andnow comes the strange part of it--that first day I set eyes on you, themoment you drew near, I saw in you the living image of her who had beenthe central figure of my waking visions, and held sweet converse withme while I slept. Then--when my eyes met yours--I understood it all!I knew then what had led me hither; what it was I had unconsciouslybeen seeking, and wherefore I had been restless and unsatisfied athome. I knew that in you I had discovered all I craved for--the sweetfulfilment of my soul's desire. And then--then--I saw you in the graspof one who would have slain you! And my heart stood still, for I knewthat, unless my hand were steady and my eye unerring, in striving tosave your life I might destroy it. Oh, think, think what must have beenmy anguish! Think, how----Ah! never will you know a tenth of what Isuffered in that brief space; or my relief and thankfulness when I sawhim fall, and you stand scatheless!"
The young girl looked shyly at him; then, noting the love-light in hiseyes, and the glowing flush upon his cheeks, the while he had pouredout all that he had felt for her, an answering blush stole over herown fair cheek; while a coy, dainty little smile seemed to flit airilyaround her mouth, setting into little dimples first here then there;in like manner as a ray of light, reflected from a mirror, will dancecoquettishly to and fro in obedience to the hand that moves the glass.
There was silence for a space, she gazing downwards at the water, butnow and then stealing a shy glance at her companion.
Then another line of thought passed over her mind and shadowed her facefor a moment.
"I wonder," she said with touching innocence, "what people see in me tolike so much? I fear it is not always well that this should be. It wasthat which led--Zelus"--she shivered at the name--"to thrust himselfupon, and at last threaten me, and has placed you in danger for havingslain him. It is very
strange! To like, to love, should mean naught buthappiness and loving-kindness and innocent delight; yet here it has leda man to attempt an awful crime, and has placed others in great peril."
"It was not _love_ on that man's part," said Leonard, savagely, betweenhis teeth. "At least, not the sort of love that urged _me_ on, that hasguided me--even as the unwinding of a clue leads the traveller throughthe maze--to the side of her I loved and worshipped in my visions. Mineis not the love that could ever do its object hurt; that could ever----"
He paused abruptly, seeing her glance up at him with a look of wonderon her face.
"You love me?" she exclaimed. "But that is past believing! 'Tis but afew days since you first saw me. You cannot know what I am really like!How then can you _love_ me? I love my father because he has cared forme and loved me all my life; I love Zonella--and--and--other friends,because I have known them for so long, and they have been kind and goodto me. How can you yet tell that you will love me? Perchance when youknow me better you may even come to hate me."
"Oh! Ulama! What is that you say?" he said impetuously. "You cannotmean it! You are playing with me! But it is cruel play! The love I meanis not such as the slow growth of a child's affection for a parentor a girl-friend. It is a swift, resistless passion, that centres onone being above all others in the world, and says, 'This one only doI love; this one possesses all my heart and soul! From this one I cannever swerve--my love will end only when my heart no longer beats; Icannot live without it.' Such a love bursts forth spontaneously fromthe heart, as does a tiny spring from the earth's bosom and that, whenonce it has found vent, for ever bubbles up fresh and clear and pure,and, commencing in a little rill, increases to a torrent whose force nopower can stem. _That_ is the love I mean; and 'tis such a love I bearfor you, Ulama. Can you not understand something of all this?"
"I know not," replied the maiden in a low voice, and glancing timidlyat him. "You frighten me a little--or you would, but that I like youtoo well to feel afraid of you--but--I have no knowledge of such loveas you describe."
"But, you have _heard_ of a love that far exceeds mere friendship--farstronger than affection?"
"Y-es. I have _heard_ of it; and--ridiculed it as fiction. Yet--ifyou affirm its truth, and in your own person have experienced it--Imust fain believe you, for I know you would not say what is not true.But"--here she sagely shook her head--"though my ears receive yourwords, the time has not yet come when they have reached my heart."
Leonard seized her hand.
"But, meanwhile, I have not offended you, Ulama?" he askedentreatingly. "You will let me love you? Indeed, I am powerless to helpit. And you will try to--to--like me--ah, you have said you _do_ likeme already. Will you not try to love me a little?"
"Nay," she frankly answered, "you would not surely have me _try_? Whatsort of love would that be that we had to _try_ to bring into being--toforce upon an unresponsive heart? You have said that it should burstforth spontaneously. I scarcely understand when you speak thus."
Leonard sighed.
"You are right, Ulama, as you ever are; and I am wrong; but my lovemakes me impatient. I will not expect too much of you. I will wait withsuch content as is in me to command until your gentle heart shall beatin unison with mine; and something in me tells me that one day it will."
Just then they heard the voice of some one calling to them, and,looking round, they saw Jack Templemore and Zonella, with severalothers, coming towards them in another boat.
When they were within speaking distance, Jack said that Monella hadsent him to tell Leonard he wished to speak to him; Leonard accordinglytook up the oars and rowed the barge slowly to shore. There he leftUlama with the party, and proceeded in search of Monella who, he hadbeen told, was awaiting him upon a terrace that overlooked the lake.
Here Leonard found him seated with a field-glass in his hand. Monellaturned and looked searchingly at the young man, who felt himselfcolouring under the other's glance.
"I love not to seem to spy upon your acts, my son," Monella begangravely, "but when I caught sight of you in yonder boat holding thehand of the princess, the daughter of the king, who is our kind andgracious host, I could not well do otherwise than seek a talk withyou. I fear you have not well considered what you do."
At this rebuke Leonard coloured up still more, albeit the words werespoken with evident kindness. For that very reason, probably, they sankthe deeper. It was the first time anything savouring of reproof to himhad fallen from Monella's lips; and, up to that moment, its possibilityhad seemed remote; and now the young man deeply felt the fact that theother should have thought it necessary.
"I think I know what you would say," he answered in a low voice. "Ifeel I have been wrong--guilty of thoughtlessness, presumption, andseemingly of breach of confidence. I understand what is in your mind.Yet let me say at once that so far little--practically nothing--hasbeen said, and nothing more shall be--unless--you can tell me I darehope. But oh, my good friend, you who have treated me always as a son,and shown such sympathy and kindness towards me--who have known of myhalf-formed aspirations, and the ideas that led me on and ended in mycoming here, and encouraged me in those ideas--who have learned that inthe king's daughter I have found the living embodiment of the centralfigure of all my dreamings--_you_ surely will not now turn upon me andtell me I must stifle all my feelings, and--give--up--the hopes--thathad arisen--in my heart?" And Leonard sank wearily into a seat.
Then, for the first time realising his actual position, how nextto impossible it was that the king would regard with favour hispretensions, he placed his hands before his face and groaned aloud.
Monella rose, and, going to him, laid his hand kindly upon hisshoulder.
"I might bring all the arguments and platitudes of the 'worldly-wise'to bear on you," he said, "but I forbear; and I know they will notweigh with you. Moreover, it is undeniable that the circumstances areunusual and unlooked-for. But they do not justify you in forgettingwhat you owe to a kingly host and--I may add--to others; to us, yourfriends, for instance. You know, also, that our position here iscritical; there is trouble brewing in the land. If the king shouldhave reason to believe that one of us has abused his confidence inone matter, he may lose his trust in all, as touching other, and farmore weighty matters--matters that may affect even his own personalsecurity; to say nothing of our own lives, and those of many of hissubjects. Therefore----"
Leonard sprang up and looked at him imploringly.
"For pity's sake say no more," he said, "or I shall begin to hatemyself. I understand--only too well. Trust me--if you will; if you feelyou can; if you have not lost confidence. You shall not have furtherreason for complaint."
Monella took Leonard's hand in his and pressed it affectionately.
"'Tis well, my son," he said. "I have full confidence, and will trustyou. And you, on your side, must trust me. I may have opportunity tosound the king, and, if it so happen, you may count on me to say anddo all that my friendship for you may dictate--and that will not be alittle."
Leonard wrung the other's hand and tried to thank him, but a burst ofemotion overcame him, and he turned away. When he again looked round hewas alone.