Chapter XVI

A viewless bow directs the dart;
I feel, yet know not whence the smart.
No outward scar to sight reveals
The wound my struggling bosom feels.

PERSIAN POEM.

The death of the subah of Cashmere at length enabled Acbar to confer upon Afkun the command of that important province. The moment the chieftain received his nomination, he said that he had another favour to ask from his sovereign, which, if it were granted, would render his felicity indeed complete. He then mentioned the feelings which he entertained towards the daughter of his majesty’s high treasurer, and entreated the exertion of Acbar’s influence in that quarter, which could hardly fail to be successful. The emperor readily acceded to the solicitations of Afkun, and sent for Kazim, to whom he opened the subject, as one deserving immediate consideration. It was not, of course, proposed, he said, that any extraordinary expedition should be adopted, with reference to the union of the parties; the more especially as the unquiet state of Cashmere demanded the presence of the new governor there without delay. But if no previous engagement or difficulty interposed, the preliminary ceremonies of betrothing might take place, before the departure of Afkun. Kazim frankly confessed that the proposition afforded him the highest gratification, as it was well known that he had long entertained towards that young nobleman the most unaffected esteem. But he hoped that, however unusual it was in Hindostan to consult the party who was, perhaps, the most interested on such an occasion, he might be permitted to refer Afkun to Mher-Ul-Nissa herself, for an answer. In the mean time, he proceeded to communicate to his family the results of his interview with the emperor.

The intelligence which her father brought, fell upon the ear of Mher-Ul-Nissa like a thunderbolt. It had never occurred to her before that at any time of her life she should be under the necessity of abandoning her paternal home. In the first emotions of her breast, she clasped her arms round her mother, and wept upon her bosom, as if the greatest calamity that could happen had befallen her, on that fatal morning. The thoughts of becoming the wife of Afkun,--of removing with him to the distant province of Cashmere,--of being exiled from her parents,--from Agra, whose splendour had powerful fascinations for her mind, habituated as she had been to the luxuries of that metropolis,--and (perhaps, above all) the extinction of that small ray of hope, which she cultivated with a fond devotion in secret, derived from the bouquet of the prince!--threw her into a state of depression and grief, little suited to an occasion that required from her feelings of a very different description.

Nothing could have been more remote from Kazim’s intentions, than a pressure of the slightest possible degree upon the wishes of his daughter. He fancied that he had, more than once, observed an expression of no ordinary pleasure in her countenance, whenever he announced that Afkun was to share their private family dinner. Neither could she deny, that the young Turcomanian had often walked with her alone in the garden; that she played on her lute, and sang for him; and that she listened with a lively attention to the description which he gave her of the peculiar customs of his country, and of the battles in which he had been engaged. But when she was reminded of all these indications of a favourable feeling on her part, as well as of the many circumstances which, on his side, also gave proof of the decided preference he entertained for her society, she replied that there was nothing in all that of the kind of sacred feeling which ought to bind two hearts together,--that feeling, for instance, which she beheld exemplified in the daily intercourse of her beloved parents. She was told, indeed, that such a sentiment as that, identifying two persons so completely as to cause every thought and hope to flow in the same channel, could only be the result of years. But she could not be persuaded that there was not some ardent and overwhelming impulse of the heart, which made up for the want of time, and converted a moment of genuine emotion into an eternity of love. She had read of such a passion in the verses of Binai, who sang them to his own enchanting music. The poet Ahili, also, though he could neither read nor write, had well expressed what she meant.

Kazim looked upon his daughter with deep anxiety, while she spoke in this style, of feelings which he supposed she had hardly as yet known from experience. But the emphasis of her expressions--the rapture that glowed in her countenance, while she opened her heart thus innocently to her parent, excited in his mind a strong apprehension that Mher-Ul-Nissa had already engaged her affections to another. She assured him, however, that such was by no means the case, and that she only repeated what she had read in the compositions he had himself placed before her. As a decisive proof of her sincerity upon this point, she said that she had no objection whatever to receive Afkun, whom she much esteemed; but whether or not she could ever know any higher feeling in his regard, would entirely depend on circumstances. Kazim kissed his daughter for her compliance with his desire, that, at all events, the advances of his young friend should be treated with the utmost delicacy and respect.

Afkun, rejoicing in the permission that was accorded to him, presented himself the next morning to Mangeli, who told him that he would find her daughter feeding a whole tribe of gazelles in the garden. The chieftain, to whom fear had never been known, trembled from head to foot, as he proceeded towards the spot where the animals were assembled. Mher-Ul-Nissa, who had not expected him so soon, was occupied in examining the foot of one of her favourites, which had been lamed for some time. The beautiful eyes of the gazelle were looking into hers, as if to express all the gratitude which it felt for her attentions, while she spoke to it in that soft tone of affection, which falls upon a lover’s heart, like the gentle rain from heaven on the flowers, in the season of their opening.

“Go your way, Hilali; you will soon be well now. Your pretty foot is almost as strong as ever. But mind, you must not scramble up the trees, and then leap down again upon the earth, as you did when you nearly killed yourself the other day. Go your way, Hilali; and now, where is my gay Pezu?” asked Mher-Ul-Nissa, turning round, when the whole troop, to her surprise, scampered away to the lower part of the garden.

“I fear I have disturbed your gazelles, Mher-Ul-Nissa,” said Afkun, approaching her.

“They are very wild and shy of strangers.”

“They are the most beautiful animals of the kind I have seen; they must be happy too, since they are the objects of your care.”

“I hope they know what happiness is; grateful I am sure they are for the little attention I have been able to show them.”

“They must have intelligence and affection, if we believe the eloquence of their eyes, and all that the poets have sung in their praise.”

“At all events they cannot deceive; they know not how to flatter.”

“Those are the acts of courtiers, Mher-Ul-Nissa; you will soon find that out, if you remain much longer in Agra.”

“Those wild gazelles! they will trample down all my flowers. Hilali! Hilali! come hither; as usual, you are the leader in every kind of mischief!”

Mher-Ul-Nissa, while she thus called to the animals, which were frisking about among her yellow roses like mad creatures, hastened along an avenue of palms, accompanied by Afkun, who assisted her to collect the gazelles together, until a slave approaching, relieved them from further anxiety, by calling the flock away.

“The emperor,” resumed Afkun, leading his fair companion to a green bank, on which he entreated her to sit down; “has honoured me, as perhaps you may have already heard, by giving me the vice-royalty of Cashmere.”

“An honourable appointment; I congratulate you sincerely.”

“As new disturbances have broken out, which demand my presence there, I am ordered to quit Agra to-morrow.”

“So soon!”

“Such are the emperor’s commands; I shall leave the capital with regret; I did hope that my duties might have permitted me to enjoy the society of your family somewhat longer. The attentions which I have uniformly received, I may say from every member of it, shall ever hold a place in my heart.”

“My father will miss you in his rides, and in those evening walks which you used so often to take together in these groves.”

“Ah! that you would say as much, Mher-Ul-Nissa, for another, whose kind remembrance of me occasionally would be still more valuable in my eyes.”

“Doubtless, we shall all think of one whom my father so much esteems.”

“I thank you, from my soul, for these words; I know not the man who is so much to be envied as Kazim Ayas! What a happiness, above all price, for him, occupied as he is during the greater portion of his time, in matters of the highest importance, to be able to fly from the cares of state, as I have often seen him do, to these delightful shades; certain of meeting in his family those genial affections which at once relax the mind, and attemper it for the renewal of its noblest efforts!”

“He deserves every thing from us!” said Mher-Ul-Nissa, her affection melting as she spoke, into tears, which stood suspended on her cheeks like pearls of dew on the rose.

“Would that I were enabled to look forward to felicity such as his!” added Afkun, taking Mher-Ul-Nissa’s hand, which she did not draw away. “You must forgive me, but I find it impossible to set out from Agra without confessing the spell that is on my heart. Could I have been so often seated by you, listening to your voice--your mandolin--and have observed the affectionate attentions which you shew, upon all occasions, to your admirable parents, without feeling a desire, that you were to me as Mangeli is to Kazim Ayas?”

Mher-Ul-Nissa was silent. The tears, which she now endeavoured to hide, still coursed each other down her cheek, as if the source whence they flowed were never to be exhausted. Afkun, following her averted eyes, found her gazing on a lily-of-the-valley, which she had taken from her bosom. It was one of the symbols which composed the bouquet of Selim!

“May I wear it?” asked Afkun, endeavouring to snatch the flower. “May I wear it as a token of you?”

“Not that, not that--I love it too much--I mean I cannot part with it; it was the first gift I have ever received.”

“Which would have made me value it the more! Oh! Mher-Ul-Nissa, you know not how passionately I love you. I could not have refused you an empire, had it been at my command--and you refuse me a flower!”

“I have said it was a gift--the first gift I ever received. If I presented it to you, would you part with it to another?”

“Not for worlds!”

“Then why blame me?”

“You then love another!”

“My father has taught me to respect--to esteem his friend.”

“You cannot love me, Mher-Ul-Nissa!--your hand is pledged to some more fortunate being?”

“Not so, Afkun--if that had been the case, I should have confessed it to you at once, with that frankness which I hope belongs to me.”

“If I go to Cashmere, without some hope that I may expect a more favourable answer from you, I shall care little what becomes of me. With you, life, power, dignity, would be precious to me; but without you they can be nothing.”

“You will, doubtless, often hear from my father, after you arrive in Cashmere.”

“But shall he be permitted to speak of Mher-Ul-Nissa?”

“Perhaps!”

“That is as much as I can press for at present. May Allah bless you, and direct you towards that which may be most for your own happiness!”

“Be assured, Afkun, that happen what may, you will be often remembered by us, while you are absent,” added Mher-Ul-Nissa, much softened by the ardour of her lover, and at the same time looking at him with a degree of tenderness, which he had not experienced from her before.

Rising from the bank, she led the way to the house, where they found Kazim and Mangeli waiting, with no common anxiety, to learn the result of the interview. The experienced minister, well-accustomed to penetrate the feelings of men from the expression of the countenance, read at once in Afkun’s quivering lip and pallid cheek, the disappointment which he had met. He saw, however, from the manner of his daughter, before she retired with her mother, that some hope still remained of the accomplishment of the object, to which he himself looked forward with the deepest interest.

Afkun mentioned, in a despairing tone, every thing that passed; with the exception of his own fears, that Mher-Ul-Nissa had already given her affection to another. Those fears he could not prevail upon himself to disclose, as it was clear that, if they were well-founded, Kazim was ignorant of the existence of any such predilection; and it would scarcely be generous towards the maid, that he should be the first to discover her secret.

“Well! well!” observed Kazim, “after all, I do not see why you should despair. She is still young in years, though in intellect so mature. Go to your government. A battle or two will do wonders for you; and if you come back with a few gashes on your breast, after tranquillizing your province, be assured that you cannot have a better passport to the heart of a woman.”

The chieftain soon took leave, without feeling much encouragement from the soothing language addressed to him by Kazim; and before dawn, on the following morning, he was on his way to Cashmere.