Khundojee Kakrey performed his promise faithfully. By secret mountain paths known to few, and through the dense forests of the tract which lies between PertÂbgurh and Kurrar, on the right bank of the Krishna, the Mahratta guided his charge safely, and with as much comfort as the nature of the journey would admit of. The two women maintained their disguise of peasants, and Zyna's ability to speak Mahratta, as well as Lurlee's to speak Canarese, assisted in aiding the deception. By night Kakrey sought shelter of villages where he seemed to be well known, for a decent house was always ready for them to sleep in, the best delicacies of country farmhouses cooked for them: and frequently, not only the matron of the house, but other women of the village, attended to bathe them, and otherwise minister to their comfort.

But for all this, those days were remembered as a time of bitter grief and sore trial; the more difficult for Zyna to endure, because Lurlee could not be brought to believe that her husband was dead, and preserved throughout, a demeanour of hope, if not, indeed, of actual joy. "No one saw him die," she would say, "his body was not buried by them. They dare not say he is dead, and I will hear no more of it. When we are at Kurrar he will return, and we will go home together." Again and again, too, were the astrological diagrams consulted: but the lady was unable to find any error in them, and for the present they were to her far more conclusive than the report she had heard from Fazil, and it was a happy thing for her, perhaps, that the delusion lasted even as far as the town to which they were journeying.

With Zyna, however, there was no delusion. She had at once believed her brother's report. Kakrey, too, had told her that there was no hope of her father's existence. Of Tara's fate he knew nothing. Mourning for him, therefore, and in miserable anxiety about her brother, Zyna had had to endure a twofold trial, which her naturally buoyant disposition and innate piety only, enabled her to sustain. Possibly, too, had she remained in one place it would have been more severe; but the daily movement—in a manner before unexperienced by her—the sense of freedom from restraint in the wild country they traversed, the beautiful and, to her, wonderful mountains, forests, and natural objects of all kinds, which, brought up as she had been in the seclusion of a zenana, she had had no chance of seeing before—served to divert her mind from the terrible reality of her loss, to fill it with hope, and to render the sense of danger they incurred in their escape to be blunted by the excitement of perpetual change.

Of the servants who had escaped with them, and who joined Fazil's party, Goolab alone remained to attend the ladies by permission of their guide. She had been divested of every particle of Mahomedan attire, and, dressed in a coarse Mahratta saree, with a dab of red colour smeared on her forehead, and mounted upon a small ambling bullock, passed readily for a Mahratta farmer's wife. In this ride, the old woman was in her element; now guiding the docile animal she rode, beside Lurlee, now beside Zyna, cheering them on when they were fatigued, and often dismounting and supporting them in places where the ponies hesitated and had to be carefully led. Unless near a mountain village, their guide, Kakrey, seldom approached them; he was generally in advance with some of his men, while others remained behind, guarding the rear. When in motion, the party was made to resemble, as far as possible, the appearance of people journeying upon a pilgrimage, and small orange flags, carried by several of the men, and fastened to the pommels of the women's saddles, assisted and maintained the deception.

It was on the afternoon of the fourth day that, emerging from a rugged pass in the mountains, they saw below them part of the wide plain of the Dekhan, the blue waters of the Krishna river sparkling in the sun, and the town, which they had hitherto only hoped to reach. Great numbers of white tents were pitched upon the plain near the fort, showing the presence of a considerable force, and the royal standard fluttered lazily in the evening breeze from its highest tower. It was a pleasant scene of quiet soft beauty, and seemed a true resting-place for the now weary and almost exhausted travellers. The last march had been a longer one than usual; for some of the way they had passed through village lands, in regard to the people of which Kakrey was not without apprehension; the country was becoming more open, and the danger of detection greater; nevertheless, he had guided them safely and truly, as he had promised.

It had been no easy matter to sustain the lady Lurlee that afternoon. All the confidence she had displayed hitherto, false as it was, seemed to have suddenly deserted her as she drew nigh to her destination; and while they rested during the hottest part of the day, under some cool shade by the side of a rivulet, Zyna saw that the old diagrams were laid aside for once with a heavy sigh, and seemed to afford no comfort. She thought the evident weariness might be the result of a longer and rougher ride than usual, and tried to soothe Lurlee. "Only a few coss more, mother," she said, "and we are safe with our own people: do not fail now, when the end is so near!"

"It matters not—what is the use of it?" replied Lurlee—"who will care for us, now they are gone from us?"

"The Blessed Alla, and the Prophet, and the saints," answered Zyna devoutly, "and there is Fazil too——"

"He could not love me, now that Tara is not with me," returned Lurlee, interrupting Zyna.

"Tara, mother?"

"Yes, his soul will be gone away to her and to his father, Zyna. He is dead," replied Lurlee, sighing. "I know it now. All day long the old man's face has been before me, gashed and bloody, and I think," she said, passing her hand across her eyes, "that I am not deceived now—no, not now."

"We shall know the best or worst soon, mother; but Fazil could not have been deceived," replied Zyna.

"And thou hast not wept, Zyna! O hard heart! Was he nothing to thee? It is the old who cannot weep—the old like me."

Zyna's tears were falling fast, but she checked them. "I would not grieve thee, mother, needlessly," she said; "when Fazil comes, he will tell us all."

"If I could see her, the daughter the good Alla gave me, Zyna—the girl who softened my heart—and give her to him—it would be enough! but they took her away, and she, too, is dead! Once," she continued mysteriously, after a pause, and catching Zyna's arm,—"once since we were out in these wilds, she came to me in a dream, and mocked me. She said she was going to die, and go to her Mother, but she would come to see me first. Ah, she was very beautiful, Zyna, and smiled lovingly upon me in her old way. Now, when she said that, it must have been near morning, when we were asleep in the village where they gave us milk to drink, and about the third watch of the night; but I cannot understand what planet ruled the hour. Ah me! I used once to do so, but the more I look at the tables now, the more I fail."

"Trust in Alla, mother, not in them," replied Zyna.

"I have no trust in them," muttered Lurlee gloomily—"none now in anything; all have failed me, and she most of all. O Tara! why didst thou go? O my child, my child, whom Alla gave me when I had none, and when thy mother died. Alas! why was I mocked, Zyna? why did Alla take him too, who loved me, and leave me here? O daughter, this is unjust oppression, this——"

"Hush, mother! else Alla will hear thee, and be angry, and the saints too; and can any one resist fate? O mother, be patient!" said Zyna soothingly. "Only for their help we had not escaped the slaughter, and worse—dishonour; and yet we are here, and our friends now are not far off."

"Your friends and Fazil's, girl!" she returned tartly. "I have been of small account enough already among ye, and am not likely to improve."

"Do not speak bitter words, mother, I beseech you," cried Zyna entreatingly. "We are your children—indeed we are, and will never leave you. If Fazil lives——"

"Peace!" rejoined the lady, interrupting her, "do not let falsehood come into thy mouth, girl. Enough for me that Tara is not, and thou art."

Zyna could never reply to Lurlee's caustic speeches, least of all under the pressure of their mutual bereavement; and as they sat there they broke forth from time to time from her without tear or sob—old grievances—old jealousies—old allegations of neglect. Matters which Zyna had utterly forgotten, seemed to have rushed back on the lady's memory like a flood. They were hard to endure; and yet not so hard, Zyna thought, as the false confidence, the fearful mockery of truth and reality, which had lasted till then—that disbelief in her father's death for which she could not account.

"Ah, if Tara can only be rescued from them, there may be some natural revulsion yet," thought the girl; and yet what hope of that? She could not deceive herself into a belief that Tara would be given up, or that she could escape from her family; perhaps, on second thoughts, she would not desire it—but if it could be so? And amidst such conflicting thoughts, and the endurance of Lurlee's dogged, desperate state of mind, the afternoon's journey into Kurrar, though the last, was indescribably more miserable than any which had preceded it.

They descended the pass, and were once more on level ground. "Hence to Beejapoor," said Goolab cheerily, as she was leading Lurlee's pony down the last steep descent, "there are no mountains—a child might ride thither without trouble. Keep a good heart, therefore, O my KhÁnum! trust in Alla, and the Prophet, and the blessed Peer Khaderi, and thou wilt see it. I vow Fatehas to the shrine, and to feed——"

"They are liars like thyself," retorted Lurlee savagely: "peace, for a prating old fool as thou art! Did not the planets tell me Afzool Khan was alive, and now men say he is dead! After that, can I believe? O woman, thou art mad—so keep thy tongue silent!"

Goolab thought her mistress mad—perhaps she was so in some degree. Excitement, grief as yet without vent, and heavy fatigue in a blazing sun to one unaccustomed to exposure, might easily cause temporary delirium, and it was with difficulty that she supported her mistress upon her pony over the ground which intervened from the bottom of the pass to the town. Shiverings had come on, and it was evident that the poor lady might be seriously indisposed.

Several of Kakrey's Mahratta foot-soldiers, who had guarded them, had run on to secure a lodging of some kind, and the travellers were met at the town gate by one who had returned to wait for the approaching party, and he guided them on. Other parties had reached the camp from the fatal field, and more were still coming in daily, so that the arrival of the travellers was unnoticed, and from their disguise their persons and rank were quite unknown. To those who saw them pass, they appeared women of the country who had made a long journey that day, and were utterly wearied; for Lurlee, closely muffled, was supported by Goolab, who walked by her side, with her arm thrown round her waist; and Zyna, even more entirely concealed from observation, leaned forward, supporting herself on her arm, as if hardly able to maintain her place on the saddle. Kakrey and his followers had closed round them so as to protect them from the jostling of the people in the narrow street and crowded bazar of the town, and all cheered the ladies by the assurance that the house secured for the night was a good one, which belonged to a respectable Mahomedan merchant, who had given part of it without hesitation on hearing for whom it was needed. It is doubtful, indeed, whether either of them could have supported their fatigue much longer.[20]

[20] Khundojee Kakrey's escort of the ladies of Afzool Khan's family to Kurrar became known to Sivaji, and he was tried and beheaded for—as it was esteemed—the act of treason.—Mahratta Chronicle.