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

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

"You can't, Nehal, you can't. You have the
right to be bitter and angry; you have not the right to commit a
crime. And it would be a crime. You are plunging thousands into
bloodshed and ruin--" He lifted his hand, and the expression in his
eyes checked her.
"So it is, after all, a bargain that you offer me!" he said. "You are
trying to save them. You offer a high price, but I am not a merchant.
I can not buy you, Beatrice."
"It is not a bargain!" For the first time she faltered, taken aback by
the pitiless logic of his words. "Can't you see that? Can't you see
that, however much I loved you, I could not act otherwise than implore
you to turn back from a step that means destruction for those bound to
me by blood and country? Could I do less?"
"No," he said slowly.
She held out her hands to him.
"Oh, Nehal, turn back while there is yet time! For my sake, for yours,
for us all, turn back from a bloody, cruel revenge. The power is
yours. Be generous. If we have wronged you, we have suffered and are
ready to atone. _I_ am ready to atone. I _can_ atone, because I love
you. I have spoken the truth to you. I have laid my soul bare to you
as I have done to no other being. Won't you trust me?"
His eyes met hers with a somber, hopeless significance which cut her
to the heart.
"I can't," he said. "I can't. That is what you have taught me--to
distrust you--and every one."
She stood silent now, paralyzed by the finality of his words and
gesture.


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