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Wylie, I. A. R. (Ida Alexa Ross), 1885-1959

"The Native Born or, the Rajah's People"

I also have sought thee,
for I have a message that thou shalt carry from me to thy people. Wilt
thou bear it?"
"Bear it thyself, Rajah, to the people with whom thou hast lived in
honor and friendship."
"In deceit and treachery!" Nehal Singh retorted, frowning. "But enough
of that. Wilt thou bear my message?"
"If it must be--yes."
"It must be. Tell them first that every bond that linked us is broken.
Tell them not to count on what has been. What has been is not
forgotten, but it is written on my heart in fire and blood--it has
crossed out love and respect, pity and mercy."
"Rajah--"
"Hear me to the end, Englishman! I am not here to waste words with
thee--henceforward my acts shall be my words. But thou shalt not go
back and say that it is ambition or a mean revenge which has drawn my
sword from its sheath. It is not that." He paused, and the hand which
he had raised to cut short Nicholson's interruption sank slowly back
upon his sword-hilt. Then he went on, and his low-pitched voice
penetrated into the farthest corner of the silent temple: "Sahib, I
loved thy people. I loved them for their past, for their courage,
their justice, their greatness. In my boy's mind they were the heroes
of the world, and as such I worshiped them. No poison could kill my
love--it seemed a part of me, the innermost part of my soul--and when
for the first time I stood before them, face to face, it was as though
I lived, as though I had awakened from a dream.


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