This covert allusion was not understood by the young Sikh, in whose
thoughts all men were valiant and all women fair and good. But he
experienced a shade of annoyance on learning that he must owe anything
to the good offices of Lal Singh. An echo seemed to sound faint and far
as in a dream; "Rajah Lal," it seemed to say, "means to pluck the Rose
of Lehna Singh's garden."




CHAPTER VI.


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 Atmâ 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 Atmâ Singh, who stood before the Ranee. She wore no veil,