THE SLAVE GIRL OF AGRA
must have gone to a further distance. Jelekha must have followed. Half an hour passed. Nothing more was seen or heard.
Far off a faint sound of muffled voices was heard. Noren was startled. He drew closer to the door. The voices rose to eager supplication—to angry words—to piercing shrieks—and then died away.
Once more a faint cry from the distance, a low, long shriek. Noren could stand it no longer. He issued out and looked around, but an impenetrable darkness was before him, and there was no sound to guide his steps.
Once more a stifled groan, a thud, and then silence!
A slight touch! Jelekha caught him by the arm and led him hurriedly to his room.
A ringing laughter burst on Noren's ears as Jelekha and he burst into the room, but a strange sight he saw before him in the light of the lamp. Jelekha's dress was in wild disorder, her locks were dishevelled, and a dark red spot was on her brow.
Noren shrank from her as from a maniac. "This is no time for laughter, Jelekha," said Noren, gently. "Something has happened in yonder paved courtyard which I would fain know from thee, something that thou wouldst in vain conceal from me."
"Something indeed has occurred which I would fain conceal from my jealous young soldier! The palace has its secrets, and a maiden sometimes meets with adventures which she need not disclose!"
"Come, gentle Jelekha, thou hast been more than a friend to me. I would fain be thy friend now if I could help thee in aught. Thy slender frame trembles yet with a terror which comes not from love adventures."
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