The Day of Resis

One week had now passed and Enola had almost entirely recovered. Her fever had lasted only a day or two and with Mr. Bruce’s prescriptions and treatment, and Mrs. Graham’s and Nellie’s gentle care she mended rapidly. Her wounds, too, had healed so quickly, the bandages had been discontinued and altogether Enola was nearly in as good a condition as before her fateful ride.

“Why, Enola,” said Mr. Graham, “you look as bright and happy as ever, this beautiful morning, and I prescribe a good long walk for you in the garden.”

“And I feel quite as well as usual, Uncle,” answered Enola. “My arms and limbs are a little stiff yet, but outside of that I am all right and will gladly accept your invitation. Ah, the morning is beautiful, glorious,” she continued, as they stepped to the terrace. “Uncle, have you noticed that the sun seems to be brighter, the air purer, that all verdure is greener, that the waters of the lake and river bluer, that the birds’ notes clearer and their plumage gayer, that all nature seems brighter and happier here than in the civilized world?”

“Ah, that is quite a speech, Enola,” answered Mr. Graham, smiling; “but seriously, I have noticed all this many times, and I have long ago ceased wondering at the happiness and contentment of the people, for they could hardly be aught else with such environments.”

“Yes, they are truly a happy lot,” said Enola, “yet how human. For centuries, more than likely, their ancestors had never known such words as fear and superstition and they themselves could hardly have defined the meaning of these words, yet one little word set them wondering and just a word more and a little act on the part of their King made them slaves to superstitious fears.”

“Yes, that is so,” said Mr. Graham, “I am very much afraid we are all alike after all.”

“No, not all alike,” said Enola, “for we, with our advanced notions on such matters could never believe as did these people for a short time.”

“May be not,” said Mr. Graham, “but we must take into consideration that these people have always been led to believe that they were the only people on earth, and have never been told of other people on other planets, so our advent among them was a great surprise in the first place and they looked on us with awe, mingled with fear; and Onrai’s strange actions and the storm simply ‘capped the climax.’”

“We had rather a narrow escape, don’t you think?” asked Enola.

“Yes,” answered Mr. Graham, “too narrow for comfort; but I think we stand on a better footing with these people since, and that for this reason the occurrence should be looked upon as being a decidedly lucky one for us.”

“That is very true,” said Enola, “but look, Gip has seen us and is coming to meet us.”

Across the lawn strode the great monstrous beast, his limp nearly gone, but his head still bandaged. This great elephant stood fully twenty feet high and as he stalked under the trees his back touched the lower boughs. He had been given the freedom of the garden from the first night of his removal from the scene of the accident to the villa, and he had taken up his position beneath the arch which opened into Enola’s apartment, and here he had remained, only going to his stall for a few moments’ rest; he knowing that if he lay down beneath the window, he could not again rise. Such love for a mistress had never been displayed before, according to Onrai, and his people could not understand it; but it was clear enough to them that the elephant was attached to Enola, and this was quite enough to let him have his own way.

Quickly he passed over the smooth lawn until he had reached them, when he affectionately stuck his great trunk into Enola’s face. Perhaps this was not a very pleasant way of having him show his love, but it was the only way he knew of, and Enola seemed to enjoy it.

“Good Gip,” she said, “and could you not see me in my room? I saw you poke your big head in the arch and pull it out again and look about. You are a dear, good fellow, Gip, and you can come right along and walk with us.”

And he did. Back and forth on the lawn the three walked, the great elephant keeping close to Enola’s side, occasionally thrusting his trunk over her shoulder, giving out that little squeak, as if to let her know that he was still with her. And his great moving hulk shook the ground at every step, making Mr. Graham look around now and then with apprehension. But Gip paid no attention to him, simply looking at Enola and trying to make her look at him.

The day before Onrai had gone to the city to attend to any matters which might need his attention. He was to return to-day, and on the morrow they were again going to take up the journey to the field of diamonds, which had been so unexpectedly interrupted by the storm. Mr. Graham and Enola had now walked to the edge of the garden, and were standing looking down the beautiful roadway, when far away, where the perspective came to a point, could be seen a small black spot. At first it looked like a pedestrian, then like a zebra, and finally the form of zebra and rider were made out. It was Onrai returning, and as impatient as on the night when the message had reached him of Enola’s serious illness. Gip pricked up his ears, and looking down the road, saw the rider approaching; then kneeling, he placed his trunk for Enola to step on, as of old. She divined his intention and placing her foot on his trunk, he raised her to his back and started off down the avenue, she sitting Turkish fashion on the silk covering which was always worn by the white elephant.

Onrai was now near enough to distinguish her form, and seeing her approach he urged his zebra into a still faster gallop and in a moment he and Enola had met, and Gip, turning, strode along beside the zebra. Far above Onrai Enola sat, her face almost hidden by the huge figure of the elephant, but Onrai was happy in the thought that he was near her. That was enough for him at least.

“You came to meet me, then?” asked he.

“No, I think it was Gip, who came to meet you,” answered Enola, smiling, “I simply accompanied him.”

Onrai laughed as he said, “Well, you are here and that is enough. You are looking entirely well this morning; are you feeling so?”

“Perfectly so,” answered Enola, “and ready and waiting to again take up the journey.”

“We will start to-morrow, at break of day,” said Onrai, “and let us hope that our journey will not again be broken by such an event as the storm.”

“Yes, it was fearful,” answered Enola, “but let us not talk of gloomy things on this beautiful morning. The miserable past is gone and let us forget it. I hope your people will not again mistrust us, for this hope only will again insure us comfort and happiness.”

They had now reached the villa and Gip, placing his trunk for Enola to step on and kneeling for her, she was soon standing beside the King.

“I thank you for having met me,” he said.

“Don’t thank me,” said Enola. “Thank Gip.” Then she tripped lightly up the terrace stairs.

“She seems to have lost all seriousness since her recovery,” said Onrai to himself, as he followed Enola into the villa, “but this may be joyousness over that recovery. But she will have to be serious when the time comes, for my people will demand it.”

Enola had gone into her own apartment, where she found Nellie awaiting her.

“Has Onrai said anything to you yet?” asked Nellie.

“About what?” asked Enola.

“About his intended marriage,” said Nellie, and she tried to smile, but could not, the whole matter seemed such a farce.

“About his marriage? why he has not mentioned it to me,” said Enola.

“It is strange he should not have spoken to you about it,” said Nellie, “for it concerns you quite as much as himself.”

“In what way?” asked Enola. “I cannot possibly see how I am concerned in his marriage.” But as she spoke she remembered the conversation of the night of the storm and of his accusation. For he had told her then that a King was not allowed to marry, how was this then, that he was going to break the law.

“Tell me, Nellie,” said she.

“I can hardly bring myself to do so,” said Nellie. “We told you that we had trouble with the people when you were sick, which nearly ended in our massacre, but we did not tell you all concerning that trouble. You are strong enough now and can hear it. They accused you of bewitching the King, when you knew he was forbidden by the laws to either love or marry. They said that the storm had come to them as a warning, and was God’s wrath on them for harboring us, and they were going to kill us. But the high priest learned that the King could marry you if he so desired, and so we were pardoned, and now it is the King’s intention and the people’s desire that you should marry him. But I cannot understand why he has not spoken to you about it. Oh, Enola, can you marry this barbarous king?”

“Don’t ask me, now, Nellie, I cannot answer—I cannot understand.” And Enola drew her hand across her eyes as if to break the spell.