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

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

He must go to his
death--and she to hers. She fired,--whether with success or not, she
never knew. In that same instant another sound broke upon their
ears--the sound of distant firing, the rattle of drums and the high
clear call of a trumpet. Nehal Singh swung around. She caught a
glimpse of his face through the smoke, and she saw something written
there which she could not understand. She only knew that his features
seemed to bear a new familiarity, as though a mask had been torn from
them, revealing the face of another man, of a man whom she had seen
before, when and where she could not tell. She had no time to analyze
her emotions nor the sense of violent shock which passed over her. She
heard Nehal Singh giving sharp, rapid orders in Hindustani. The room
emptied. She saw him follow the retreating natives. At the door he
turned and looked back at her. At no time had his love for her
revealed itself more clearly than in that last glance.
"The English regiment has come to help you," he said. "Fate has
intervened between us this time. May we never meet again!"
He passed out through the shattered doorway, but she stood where he
had left her, motionless, almost unconscious. It was thus Nicholson
and the Colonel found her when, a moment later, they entered the room
by the verandah. Colonel Carmichael's passionate reproaches died away
as he saw her face.
"You must not stop here," he said.


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