THE SLAVE GIRL OF AGRA
wildly, and with her white arms extended she seemed a witch sailing through the air. Nor did they stop till the white tents of Noren's escort loomed in the distance.
And then they paused. Noren sprang from his horse and came to Jelekha, still seated on her saddle. Was it a vision that suddenly broke upon his sight?
The girl's light seat on the saddle was that of a Peri rather than of a human being. Her face was flushed, and drops of toil beaded her forehead. The crimson dawn flashed on her keen wicked eyes, and a wicked smile parted her thin red lips. The loose hair shaded her marble brow and fell on her shoulders, and her disordered dress scarcely concealed her palpitating bosom. Never had Noren's eyes rested on a form so lithe and supple, so bright and bewitching.
The sylph-like form slid from the saddle and Noren caught her in his arms. And did his passionate lips press for a moment on the trembling lips of the struggling, ravishing Musalmanee? But Jelekha sprang away with a scream and a laugh, and Noren stood confused.
But she came back to him lovingly and spoke to him gently, and a tear glistened in her eye as she spoke.
"Much hast thou dared, brave soldier, for a stranger who was friendless, for a slave who was helpless. The spirits of my father's land called thee to Agra, and I waited for thee till thou camest and brokest my chains. We part to-day, Noren, for our paths are in different directions, but a Tartar never forgets a kindness, and Jelekha will not forget—a friend."
The strange creature had disappeared in the
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