control.
Just now, however, the evening calm had stolen over her spirit, and shesat lost in thought, her memory, seldom active, going back to the daysof her early childhood, as she glanced at the gold cross which she woreconstantly round her neck.
Nella could not be said to have forgotten Catalina. She prayed for hermorning and evening, and she knew that masses were constantly sung inthe convent chapel for her deliverance; but the sorrow of her loss wasregarded as too terrible for common speech. A cloud of horror hung overher memory, and Nella, whose simple, healthy nature easily adapteditself to new surroundings, rather shrank from the thought of her. Herfather had never fulfilled his promise of coming to England; her nursehad been taken captive with Kate. She could vividly remember the nightattack, when she had run out to see what was the matter, and found theothers gone on her return, and carrying her thoughts back she couldremember different trees and flowers, a house that seemed to her ofwonderful splendour, a mother's kiss, her bluff father's voice, and,more clearly than anything else, the tall, pale young prince who hadgiven her the jewel round her neck and bid her trust in God.
It must be remembered that though Nella's memory enabled her to recallorange-trees and pomegranates, strange dresses and customs, and the"Moors" as familiar objects of dread, she never met with any one who hadever seen an orange-tree, or done more than hear of a Moor as a sort ofemissary of evil. She had nothing therefore but her own childishimpressions to fall back upon, which were confused and blurred, and sheinvariably pictured Catalina as her own double, grown to the sameheight, wearing the same clothes, and thinking the same thoughts. Butthe image seemed as far removed from her as if she had been taught toregard Catalina as among the saints in Paradise. Nella was notimaginative; she did not realise strange conditions; a sort of reservehad always veiled even from her own thoughts the present condition ofher twin sister. But her convent life was almost over, and the changein her own existence made her thoughtful.
"I am thirteen," she thought; "I have made my first communion, perhapsbefore many years I shall be married; but Catalina--"
Suddenly, for the first time, it came clearly before her mind thatCatalina, if alive, could not be in the least like herself, could not bea Christian at all. Nella sprang to her feet and almost cried out asthe thought stung her, and for the first time in her life she was seizedwith the intensest desire to know her sister's fate; she felt as if shemust discover what had become of her, as if the uncertainty so longacquiesced in had become suddenly intolerable to her.
The chapel bell began to ring for vespers; one of the nuns came into thegarden and called Nella. She took up her wreath and followed into thechapel, and as she knelt and prayed, the twin sister whom she could nolonger picture to herself seemed to call to her out of terrible andunknown darkness.
In the convent chapel, among the oak-wood and the cherry-blossoms of anEnglish spring, Eleanor Northberry laid her garlands on a holy shrineand listened to the chanting of the vesper service; while the lightfaded away over the peaceful garden, and the last reflection of thesunset died out from the long fish-pond, and the nuns were left to thepeace and the stillness of night.
The sun also dropped down to rest over another small inclosure, far awayin the warm south. Round the royal palace of Muley Hassan, King of Fez,were magnificent gardens, and on the side devoted to the women was one,the very gem of them all. A kind of cloister surrounded it, built withthe utmost elaboration of Moorish art, horseshoe arches, fretwork of themost exquisite forms, blazing with gold and silver, and glowing with thegorgeousness of Oriental colour. Flowers of almost tropical variety andbeauty were growing in profusion, and in the centre was a fountain inwhich gold and silver fish were swimming. On the brink stood a younggirl with a splendid wreath of crimson passion-flowers in her hand. Shewas dressed in a tunic of blue silk, wonderfully embroidered withcoloured flowers, full white silk trousers were fastened round herankles above her golden slippers; on her head was a rose-colouredturban, coquettishly set on the top of the long straight plait of hairthat fell down her back. She seated herself on the rim of the fountain,and laying her flowers at her feet, listened to the distant sound ofgirlish voices laughing and chattering beyond the cloister, or to thenoise of a number of parrots and other birds inclosed in a goldennetwork at one corner of the garden.
The girl's face was fair, with fine outlines, large blue eyes of apeculiar wistful softness, and with an expression gentle, dreamy, andsomewhat passive. This was Leila, a Christian slave, the pet andplaything of the ladies of Muley Hassan's harem; this was Katharine,Eleanor Northberry's lost sister.
Strangely enough there had been a sort of outward similarity between thelives that were essentially so different. Each sister had been broughtup in seclusion in a household of women. Catalina, like Nella, learntto embroider and to sing; she too lived among birds and flowers andpleasant places. She too was taught to be obedient, to submit to rules;and the gentle nature obeyed more perfectly, and carried cushions andsang little songs or gathered flowers for the princesses, more aptlythan Nella learnt her tasks or steadied her dancing steps in Northberryconvent. But the little slave had been treated as a favourite toy, andnothing had occurred to drive her thoughts beyond herself. She had atonce been separated from her nurse and taken to the palace, and thoughshe could have told, if asked, her real name and have understoodprobably her own language, years of soft living separated her from anyreminder of her old life.
"Leila, Leila!" cried a clear voice.
Leila sprang up and ran to the garden-gate to meet a lady, of exquisitedark beauty, who came and sat down on a pile of silken cushions near thefountain. Leila took, at her signal, a golden casket from anotherlittle girl, and kneeling before her mistress, began to take out itscontents and display them.
Mistress and maiden smiled with delight as rubies, diamonds, andemeralds came to view.
"My jewels are the best in the harem," said the Princess Zarah, proudly.
"Yes, lady," said Leila, "neither Zuleika nor Zoraya have half so many."
"There is a string of pearls for you," said Zarah. "Or, no--chooseamong these for yourself."
"What is that?" said the little slave suddenly, pointing to a smalleight-pointed ornament with a ruby in the centre.
"That!" said the princess. "Why, child, that is yours already. It wastied round your neck when you were brought to me."
Leila took the cross in her hand, and gazed at it with a fixed, dreamylook.
"Nella had one too," she said suddenly. "Dom Fernando gave them to us."
"Who is that?" said Zarah, indolently.
Leila looked perplexed, tears filled her eyes, and, with ahalf-unconscious movement, she made the sign of the cross.
Zarah struck her hand sharply.
"Hold, child! that is wicked. Do that again and you shall be beaten."
"Are all Christians wicked?" said Leila, timidly.
"Of course, child--they are unbelievers."
"And Nella must be a Christian--I was once."
"There, do not fret. Here is a spray of emeralds, for you to put inyour turban. You are happy enough, and spoiled, my little one.Religions do not matter so much for a woman, certainly not for a slave.Some day, when I can spare you, you shall marry a true Mussulman, whoshall give you sweetmeats and jewels. You are very pretty--none of theother princesses have such a pretty slave."
Leila laid the jewels down, and, slipping away from her mistress' side,she leaned over the carved parapet of the ladies' garden, peepingthrough the trellis-work that divided it from the more public grounds ofthe palace. Down below, she saw four or five men, haggard, weary, andscantily clothed, dragging heavy loads of earth to form a bank on oneside of the garden. Presently a Moor came up and struck one of them asharp blow. He cowered under it for a moment, and then, as the strikerturned away, his victim looked up to Heaven and made the sign of theCross.
These poor sufferers were Leila's fellow-Christians. Tears filled hereyes; she longed to help
them. But she was a slave, petted, soft, andself-indulgent, like a pet animal. She shrank away from the painfulthought, and, going back to her mistress, tried to forget it inwreathing the passion-flowers round her hair.
CHAPTER NINE.
IN NORTHBERRY FOREST.
"The huge, broad-breasted old oak-tree."
Northberry Manor house was a heavy, grey stone building, with a smallcourt in the centre, and four little round towers at the corners. Amoat surrounded it, crossed by a drawbridge, which, however, was rarelyraised. England still felt the benefit of the strong government ofHenry the Fifth, and all was at peace. The gates stood open, save atnight; the servants and retainers stood idling about the court, and thegreat hunting-dogs sat in the sun and enjoyed life, one lovely morningin Whitsun week, as Nella Northberry, in all the delight of a holiday,came running
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