Atma - A Romance

A subdued light stole through the latticed windows of the house of Junda

Kowr, revealing a court whose hush and shadow contrasted with the busy

life that Atma had left behind him. The silence and pleasing coolness

were in harmonious unison with the gleaming alabaster arches, and the

subdued loveliness of arrangement was more agreeable to sense than Lehna

Singh's ornate magnificence. A lace-like screen hung before a lofty

recess. So plain it seemed that one wondered at seeing it motionless in

the breeze made by the silken punkah swinging slowly to and fro before

it. It was of most delicately wrought ivory, and veiled from the court

where female attendants flitted noiselessly about a group of three

persons engaged in earnest conversation. One, a woman whose black eyes

had none of the languor of her race, reclined among embroidered

cushions. The splendour of her jewels proclaimed the Ranee. Emeralds,

rubies, and diamonds glittered on brow and arms. Before her on a

cushion lay a carefully folded and voluminous letter. Lal Singh lolled

at her side, and his gaze like hers was fixed on the ingenuous

countenance of Atma Singh, who stood before the Ranee. She wore no veil,

and as Atma encountered the gaze of her bold black eyes, he remembered

the sneer of Lehna Singh.

"Come near," she commanded; "you come to me from our good friend, Lehna

Singh. Let me hear what word you bring from him."

"I come, Maharanee," replied Atma modestly, "to obey your behests in all

things, but especially to undertake a perilous mission, which I am

assured will result in benefit to the faithful adherents of the Khalsa,

as well as to the interests of your highness and the Maharajah."

"I have heard," said the Ranee, "much of your devotion, courage, and

unswerving integrity, which render you peculiarly fitted for an

enterprise requiring singular daring and fidelity. Lehna Singh has not

scrupled to say that peril of life itself will even be welcome to so

brilliant a spirit."

Her mocking tone brought the blood to Atma's cheek, he scarce knew why.

"It is the high calling of a Sikh," said he, "to encounter danger, and

by the sword to confirm the Khalsa."

"It is a training that makes good soldiers," returned the Ranee, "but as

my claims may prove less potent than those of the Khalsa, I promise that

on your successful return you shall receive from my hands rare and

costly jewels, and gold whose yellow lustre will bid the treasuries of

the world to open."