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Page 116
"We had a fear," he said. "It remains!"
The girl went over and stood before the fire, her foot on the
brass fender, her fingers linked behind her back. For sometime
she was silent. Finally she spoke, without turning her head, in
a low voice.
"You know Lord Eckhart?"
A strange expression passed over the Oriental's face.
"Yes, when Lhassa was entered, the Head moved north to our
monastery on the edge of the Gobi - the English sovereignty
extends to the Kahn line. Lord Eckhart was the political agent
of the English government in the province nearest to us."
When the girl got up, the Oriental also rose. He stood
awkwardly, his body stooped; his hand as for support resting on
the corner of the table. The girl spoke again, in the same
posture. Her face toward the fire.
"How do you feel about Lord Eckhart?"
"Feel!" The man repeated the word.
He hesitated a little.
"We trusted Lord Eckhart. We have found all English honorable."
"Lord Eckhart is partly German," the girl went on.
The man's voice in reply was like a foot-note to a discourse.
"Ah!" He drawled the expletive as though it were some Oriental
word.
The girl continued. "You have perhaps heard that a marriage is
arranged between us."
Her voice was steady, low, without emotion.
For a long time there was utter silence in the room.
Then, finally, when the Oriental spoke his voice had changed. It
was gentle, and packed with sympathy. It was like a voice within
the gate of a confessional.
"Do you love him?" it said.
"I do not know."
The vast sympathy in the voice continued. "You do not know? - it
is impossible! Love is or it is not. It is the longing of
elements torn asunder, at the beginning of things, to be
rejoined."
The girl turned swiftly, her body erect, her face lifted.
"But this great act," she cried. "My father, I, all of our
blood, are moved by romance - by the romance of sacrifice. Look
how my father died seeking an antidote for the pain of the world.
How shall I meet this sacrifice of Lord Eckhart?"
Something strange began to dawn in the wide Mongolian face.
"What sacrifice?"
The girl came over swiftly to the table. She scattered the mass
of jewels with a swift gesture.
"Did he not give everything he possessed, everything piece by
piece, for this?"
She took the necklace up and twisted it around her fingers. Her
hands appeared to be a mass of rubies.
A great light came into the Oriental's face.
"The necklace," he said, "is a present to you from the Dalai
Lama. It was entrusted to Lord Eckhart to deliver."
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