L I B RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 12137 
 
 V.I
 
 / Ia fcA ^f^,n^jL Ulv-lv, l{'-iv<^
 
 THE RAJAH'S HEIR 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 THE RAJAH'S HEIR 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE 
 
 1890 
 
 lAll rights reserved}
 
 r^3 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIEST VOLUME 
 
 _„ CHAPTKi: I'Af>K 
 
 ^ PROLOGUE 1 
 
 "'~" I. THE HEIR 11 
 
 11. GENERAL SIR ^VILFRID ELTON 34 
 
 L - 
 
 ^^ III. ' IN VISIONS OF THE NIGHT ' 48 
 
 2? IV. A MYSTERIOUS LEGACY 69 
 
 V. WHAT THE MOON AND RIVER SAID .... 83 
 
 Lu. VI. AN IRREPARABLE LOSS 105 
 
 Zj VII. THE rajah's HEIR SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF . .116 
 
 VIII. THE MASQUERADE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES . . . ISiS 
 
 A IX. DELHI — VIVIEN — A MALCONTENT .... 150 
 
 X. MEERUT AND THE ELTONS 167 
 
 \' XI. ON THE BORDERS OF NEPAUL — A JOURNEY THROUGH 
 
 THE JUNGLE 181 
 
 y^ XII. A VISIT TO JUNG BAHADOOR 190 
 
 t„ XIII. LUCKNOW AND SIR HENRY LAWRENCE . . . 198 
 
 ^ XIV. A MODEL STATE 216 
 
 ^ XV THE Pw4.NEE OF JHANSI 225 
 
 ^ -a 
 
 XVI. THE RAJAH'S RECEPTION 251 
 
 ^ XVIT. HOW THE NEWS FROM MEERUT WAS RECEIVED AT 
 
 ^ GUMILCUND 266 
 
 'j> XVIII. EOOSANEE'S MISSION 281
 
 THE EAJAH'S HEIR 
 
 PEOLOGUE 
 
 ' A DEEAM and a forgetting. Is our life that ? 
 The sages who have searched into the past and 
 future say that it is even so. A dream — another 
 dream ; a beginning — an ending ; a beginniug 
 again — an ending again ; in all the world no 
 halt for the trembhng spirit until the dizzy 
 height be reached. And that — when will it be ? 
 I accept not the priceless boon alone. Ye Holy 
 Ones, who have been my companions from my 
 boyhood, whose wills have wrought upon my 
 will, whose bodiless voices have counselled me, 
 ye know what is in my heart. If I had sepa- 
 rated myself frojn my kind, from the children 
 who depend upon me for their daily bread, I 
 might now have attained to the goal of my 
 spiritual desire ; instead of going forth upon 
 this weary flight I might have been basking in 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE RAJAHS HEIR 
 
 the light of knowledge, as the Divine — nay, the 
 very Divine myself. But it cannot be. For 
 their sakes I must begin again.' 
 
 Slowly and brokenly the words fell upon the 
 silence. He who spoke them — a man but a few 
 hours ago in the full pride and glory of life — 
 was dying. Early that morning he had gone 
 out as was his wont from his palace, he had 
 ridden over fields which he had redeemed from 
 the wilderness, he had visited the fair markets 
 that his munificence had opened ; he had gone 
 on foot, as he had often done before, through 
 the crowded streets of the city he governed, 
 when the hand of an assassin struck him down. 
 The blow was dealt before the eyes of the loyal 
 throngs that pressed round their rajah ; yet the 
 miscreant who did the foul deed made no effort 
 to escape. 
 
 'He is a Feringhee,' he muttered as (the 
 wounded prince having forbidden violence) the 
 people led the assassin to prison. 'He is a 
 Feringhee. He will take away from us our 
 religion and customs, and give us foreigners to 
 rule over us.' 
 
 Weeping and moaning, the attendants of the 
 rajah had dressed his wound with such cool 
 uno-uents as they could procure on the instant, 
 and, while some carried him to his palace, others
 
 PROLOGUE 3 
 
 went in hot haste for the European doctor at 
 the Eesidency. - He let them do what they would, 
 knowing that the doing would ease their pain ; 
 bur, for himself, he was well aware that the end 
 of his life, as master of these good people and 
 lord of loyal Gumilcund, had come. 
 
 When everything that skill and care could 
 devise had been done he begged his attendants 
 to leave him. He wished to be alone. 
 
 He had been brought back to his palace at 
 midday, and now the evening was drawing on. 
 The golden light of the westering sun stole in 
 through perforated marble lattices, and lay in 
 patches on the white pavement, and made the 
 water that flowed tinkhncr through a troucrh in 
 the centre of the apartment shine like rubies 
 and sapphires. The Arabian carpet on which, 
 propped up with cushions, the rajah lay, had 
 been drawn by his request close to this trough, 
 and his long brown fingers played aimlessly with 
 the water. As he lay, his lower hmbs covered 
 with shawls of the richest Oriental workmanship, 
 and the upper part of his body wrapped in a 
 padded cloak of silk embroideries, exhausted as 
 he was with suffering, the peculiar dignity and 
 beauty of his appearance must have struck 
 anyone who saw him for the first time. It was 
 a grand face, finely wrought, noble in form 
 
 b2
 
 4 THE RAJAH S HEIR 
 
 and expression. Those who looked upon it 
 loved it. 
 
 The jewelled turban, which he was never 
 more to wear, lay beside the rajah on his pillow, 
 and close at hand was a lacquered tray, contain- 
 ing a gold cup, an alabaster casket, and a silver 
 beil. 
 
 The words given above, only a few out of 
 many, were spoken aloud. The effort of think- 
 ing was too great for the strength so swiftly 
 ebbing away. Smiling sadly, the rajah put out 
 his hand for the gold cup. He reached it, but 
 he could not raise it to his lips, whereupon he 
 touched the silver bell. ^^Hiile the sound was 
 still vibrating through the air, one of the many 
 dusky forms that were thronging the doorway 
 stood before him. 
 
 'Hoosanee,' he said, ' call Chunder Singh.' 
 
 Swift and silent as the shadow that sweeps 
 across a ripe corn-field were the feet of the 
 servant. But he had not far to go. In less 
 than a minute a man, slender, but of command- 
 ing stature, dressed in snowy white, and wearing 
 a red turban, stood, with head humbly bowed 
 and eyes so dim with tears that he could scarcely 
 see, before the rajah. 
 
 ' My master wants me at last,' he said, an 
 accent of reproach in his voice.
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 ' I am tired. Give me to drink,' said the rajah. 
 
 Chunder Singh raised his head and put the 
 golden cup to his Hps. He drank, and the 
 deathhke languor left his eyes. ' That is 
 enough. I am stronger,' he said. 
 
 ' I would it were the ehxir of life,' murmured 
 Chunder Singh, who was weeping bitterly. 
 
 ' Your words bring back the past,' said the 
 rajah, his lips parting in a sad smile. ' The 
 Ehxir of Life ! Long ago, when we were boys 
 together, how diligently we sought for it, 
 Chunder, poring over the ancient Arabic manu- 
 scripts ! We were to drink of it and live, age 
 after age, age after age. We were to bring our 
 grey experience to the use and service of the 
 nations. We were to mould a new world, 
 where righteousness would be the law and 
 happiness — happiness, instead of misery — the 
 common lot.' 
 
 He paused. ' Dreams ! ' said Chunder Singh. 
 ' Yet I wish noAV that they might return.' 
 
 ' Dreams ! ' echoed the rajah. ' We know — 
 you and I — that we are deathless. What need 
 of elixirs for us ? Though I seem to die — 
 though to-morrow you will take out this body 
 and burn it — the chain of existence has not run 
 out to its hrait. I remain.' 
 
 ' But not with us— not mth us ! ' cried
 
 b THE EAJAHS HEIR 
 
 Chunder Singh, flinging himself down with his 
 face to the marble pavement. 
 
 He was aroused from his paroxysm of grief 
 by the voice of the rajah. ' You are mistaken. 
 Eise and sit beside me, and I will tell you what 
 will make your heart leap with joy.' 
 
 Then Chunder Singh rose and dried his eyes, 
 and the rajah spoke. ' There was a moment 
 when I thought that this death would be my 
 last ; that when I left the prison of this mortal 
 body I should go forth into the liberty of un- 
 conditioned existence ; for I have lived as a 
 sage. By day and by night, at the ordered 
 hours, 1 have meditated upon the sacred books. 
 I have conquered appetite and passion, and 
 have worked for the sake of others, looking not 
 for reward. Is this true, Chunder Singh ? ' 
 
 ' It is true, my lord.' 
 
 ' I know that it is true, and I know that the 
 door into the highest heaven stands open. But,' 
 in a low and broken voice, ' I may not enter in.' 
 
 ' Why will my lord say so ? ' 
 
 ' I say what I know, what the Invisible Ones 
 have revealed to me. It is two years now since 
 they spoke to me of this. "Brother," they 
 said, " the door stands open. Enter in." I 
 bowed down with my face to the ground. "And 
 my people," I said, " th'ey will enter in with
 
 PKOLOGUE 7 
 
 me ? " " Nay," said the Holy Ones ; " have they 
 lived as you have done ? " And I said, '' They 
 will." And the Holy Ones answered, "Who 
 will teach them when you have gone ? There is 
 no communion between gods and men." Then 
 I trembled, and my knees smote together. 
 " There will rise up others," I said, " likeminded 
 with us ; and these will teach them." And they 
 said, " So it may be ; yet who knoweth aught 
 of that which is to come ? " " Promise me," 
 I said, " that they shall be led into the path 
 that I have trodden." But to my prayer no 
 answer was vouchsafed. After that, Brother 
 Chunder, many days went by. Morning, noon, 
 and night I thought of my people, humbly be- 
 seeching the Invisible Ones to grant me the 
 assurance of their final emancipation ; but the 
 heavens were as brass over my head, and my 
 words as empty air. But one night, when I was 
 musing, I heard a voice that I had never heard 
 before. " Sacrifice," it said, " is the salt of de- 
 votion." As I pondered what this might mean 
 there fell upon me suddenly great awe, and a 
 horror of darkness enveloped me. More days and 
 nights passed over me, and then I spoke again. 
 " It is enough," I said, " I will return again to 
 the dark forest of conditioned existence, and my 
 people shall live." Then at last the Invisible
 
 8 THE EAJAH's heir 
 
 Ones spoke clearly. "So be it," they said. 
 ' For your brothers' sakes you shall go through 
 another incarnation, and a body is ready." ' 
 
 Here Chunder Singh trembled. 
 
 'Be still,' said the rajah, laying a long brown 
 hand upon his arm. ' Hear me to the end ; for 
 I have still stranger things to tell. Across the 
 sea, in the land from which my father's father 
 came, there lives a youth, to whom I desire to 
 send you. He thinks himself wholly of the 
 West ; but our blood runs in his veins. Into 
 him it is decreed that I shall enter, that, through 
 him, I may return to my people and city. 
 Listen, Brother Chunder, and consider carefully 
 what I shall say to you. When these eyes are 
 closed, and you have carried out this body to 
 the burning, you must go to the land where my 
 father's father lived ; you must find that youth 
 of our race ; you must be faithful to him as you 
 have been faithful to me.' 
 
 ' But how shall I know him when I see him ? ' 
 said Chunder Singh. 
 
 ' You will know him by this, that he is my 
 heir. My last will and testament is in England, 
 in the hands of our agent, with whom you have 
 often communicated by letter. He, if you pre- 
 sent the credentials that I leave with you, will 
 give you all the information you require. IJn-
 
 PROLOGUE 9 
 
 derstand, Cliunder, while the youth is in Eng- 
 land, amongst the friends of his boyhood, I do 
 not desire that you shall press yourself upon 
 him. When he has — as I know he will — made 
 up his mind to become one of us, then you will 
 wait upon and help him. Will you ? ' 
 
 ' My lord, thou knowest,' cried the poor 
 fellow, weeping. ' Of what value is Chunder's 
 life to him now, save as he can carry out the 
 wishes of his master ? ' 
 
 The rajah smiled. ' That is well,' he said, 
 ' I am satisfied. This,' laying his hand on the 
 alabaster casket, ' I give to you. It contains 
 gold and English notes, and my secret instruc- 
 tions. Strike the bell three times ! ' 
 
 Chunder Singh obeyed. On the instant the 
 marble pavement round the rajah's couch was 
 thronged with the figures of men in white and 
 coloured garments, whose weeping and lamenta- 
 tion filled the air of the apartment. 
 
 But when the rajah lifted his hand there 
 was silence. Then every one of them fell down 
 with their faces to the ground. In a voice that 
 faltered with weakness he bade them rise and 
 listen to his last words. They obeyed him 
 trembling. ' Listen, my children ! ' he said. 
 ' It is the will of the Supreme, who doeth as He 
 listeth in the heavens above and in the earth
 
 10 THE EAJAH's heir 
 
 beneath, that I should leave yon for a season ; 
 but when the times are fulfilled I will return. 
 Until I come the elders of the city, Chunder 
 Singh and LutfuUah and the others ' — he looked 
 smilingly from one to another — ' will rule you 
 under the English Eesident, whom I have seen 
 to-day, and to whom you will refer in case o 
 difficulty. I call you all to witness that to m} 
 faithful minister, Chunder Singh, I give this 
 casket with everything it contains. Hoosanee, 
 my bearer, will take the gold cup out of which 
 I drink, and the diamond star in my turban. 
 To him and all of you there are legacies of which 
 you will hear in the proper time and place. 
 It is my desire that the palace be kept as it is 
 till your lord's return. The treasury is in the 
 hands of the Eesident, and he will give you your 
 pay. My faithful servants, farewell ! Thank 
 you for your service. I can say no more. As 
 you love me, I beseech you to withdraw quietly.' 
 Stifled sobs followed the rajah's words, but 
 not a single word was spoken. One by one, 
 with lingering looks of love, they left the apart- 
 ment. At last there were none left but Chunder 
 Singh, his foster-brother, and Hoosanee, his 
 bearer. He looked with yearning affection from 
 one to the other, said feebly, ' Chunder will tell 
 my Hoosanee,' and fell back dead.
 
 11 
 
 CHAPTEE I 
 
 THE HEIR 
 
 Ix a little green box by the banks of the silver 
 Thames, far from the busy haunts of men and 
 commerce, yet near enough to a busy little 
 county town not to be altogether cut oiF from 
 the society of their fellows, there lived at the 
 time of the death of the Eajah of Gumilcund, 
 known amongst his Indian contemporaries as 
 Byrajee Pirtha Eaj, a wddow and her son. They 
 were English. The widow was of middle age. 
 She had been handsome, and she was still comely 
 and pleasant to look upon. The son had just 
 turned his twenty-first year. 
 
 The two were somewhat of an enigma to 
 their neighbours, one of whom — the well-known 
 Lady Winter — used to say that the good folks 
 of Surbiton and Kingston ought to be thankful 
 to the Gregorys, without whose eccentricities 
 they would not have had anything to talk about. 
 
 Now, it was very well that Mrs. Gregory did 
 not hear this kind speech, for, however she may
 
 12 THE rajah's heir 
 
 have affected her neighbours, it is very certain 
 that she had not the least desire to be eccentric. 
 And indeed the pecuharity which set all these 
 busy tongues wagging had more to do with her 
 son than with herself. His appearance, to begin 
 with — how did he come to be so curiously, so 
 abnormally, different from his mother ? No one 
 seeing them together could have imagined that 
 they were closely related. She was one of those 
 large, fair women — placid in temper and gentle 
 in manner — who develop naturally out of the 
 lily-white blonde of poetry and romance when 
 she is foolish enough to step across the boundary 
 that divides youth from middle age. He had 
 the lithe figure, the olive skin, and the dark 
 melting eyes that are supposed to belong to the 
 great southern races. 
 
 The observant said there was something 
 more. They said that the boy's expression of 
 face divided him more completely from his 
 mother than its colour and form. I am speak- 
 ing now of his childish years. They say — I did 
 not myself know him in these days — that there 
 was a wonderful stillness, a curious, unchildlike 
 spirituality about him ; that he looked now and 
 then as if his little soul were in the presence of 
 visions which m^ade the things of earth strange 
 to him. This was noticed once to his mother by
 
 THE HEIR 13 
 
 a garrulous neighbour, and the anger with which 
 she received the remark was remembered loner 
 after in the neighbourhood. As a fact, the j)oor 
 woman, placid as she seemed, had her own 
 strongly-marked ideals. When her infant was 
 born, and she called him Tom — a name which 
 the neighbours said did not suit him in the 
 least — she had visions of him in the future as 
 a fair-haired, white-skinned Anglo-Saxon athlete, 
 a cricketing and footballing hero, winning the 
 plaudits of the crowd and provoking the envy 
 of meaner mortals by his magnificent feats. 
 Nature, however, had other views for the lad. 
 But of this we shall see more hereafter. In the 
 meantime it must be mentioned that the curious 
 difference between the mother and son was not 
 their only peculiarity. It was whispered that 
 there was something strange — and we all know 
 how much may lurk behind those two little 
 words — in their past history. That Mrs. Gregory 
 had spent several of her early years in India, 
 where her grandfather. Sir Anthony Bracebridge, 
 had been one of those fine old Anglo-Indian 
 officers who by their military dash and political 
 genius laid the foundation of the vast English 
 empire that was then slowly growing up in the 
 East ; that her father had in his turn entered 
 the service of the East India Company and
 
 14 THE rajah's heir 
 
 won distinction ; and that lier husband, Captain 
 Gregory, had belonged to the same order, and 
 had been killed in one of the little wars about 
 which no one in England knew anything ; — so 
 much everyone had heard, and this, it might 
 have been thought, was sufficient for the most 
 exacting of neighbourhoods. And no one, doubt- 
 less, would have asked for any more but for Mrs. 
 Gregory's curious reticence with regard to the 
 past. 
 
 She was naturally an expansive and garru- 
 lous woman. Everyone knew that. She was 
 not in the least Hke Lady Win^ter, for instance, 
 who measured her words carefully. She loved 
 talking and kissing, and the genial company of 
 intimate friends. Dearest Tom, and his Httle 
 smart sayings, the house, the servants, the trades- 
 people, her own and other people's ailments ; 
 she was ready at any time to discuss these with 
 effusion. But let one of her acquaintances touch 
 upon India or her early years, and her hps were 
 sealed immediately. So marked was this, that, 
 curious as some of lijer neighbours were — and 
 those were the days when India was, to the 
 generality of people, a land of romance and 
 mystery — it was tacitly agreed that it should 
 not be mentioned before her, and so by degrees 
 the gossip died down. Mrs. Gregory was an
 
 THE HEIR 15 
 
 excellent neighbour and a genial companion. 
 She had a pretty cottage, a good-looking, dutiful 
 son, and she gave charming tea parties. The 
 neighbourhood accepted her and let her past 
 alone. The coming of General Sir Wilfrid Elton 
 and his family to Surbiton set tongues wagging 
 again. Some one found out that the Eltons 
 and Bracebridges were friends of old standing. 
 Some one else suspected that Mrs. Gregory had 
 not been particularly pleased when she heard 
 they meant to settle near her, and two or three 
 of the sensationally disposed looked forward to 
 what they were pleased to call 'revelations.' 
 None, however, came. The General was far too 
 busy a person to gossip. Lady Elton, a pretty, 
 timid, domestic woman, took to no one in the 
 neighbourhood but Mrs. Gregory ; and the crirls 
 either knew nothing, or had no inclination to 
 tell what they knew. Our story dates from the 
 summer of the Eltons' visit to Surbiton. 
 
 Tom Gregory, who was then just of age, had, 
 in one respect, fulfilled the promise of his child- 
 hood. He was a handsome man for all that his 
 beauty was not of that Anglo-Saxon type which 
 was so dear to his mother's heart. An artist 
 who met him one autumn day wandering bv the 
 riverside just as dusk had fallen, described him- 
 self as startled by his beauty. He attended one
 
 16 THE KAJAHS HEIR 
 
 of Lady Winter's receptions later, and asked her 
 in the presence of Miss Vivien Leigh, her pretty 
 and eccentric niece, who the young Greek god 
 of the river was. Her ladyship lifted up her 
 eyebrows and wondered what upon earth he 
 could mean. But Vivien smiled. ' He's met 
 Tom Gregory in his boating flannels, aunt,' she 
 said, in her light airy voice, which seemed always 
 to have a ring of mockery in it. ' And do you 
 know I think I shall keep the illustration ; it's a 
 remarkably good one. Which god, Mr. Walters 
 — Apollo or Mars ? ' 
 
 ' Scarcely Mars — not fierce enough ; but the 
 warhke element might develop. Educate him, 
 Miss Vivien.' 
 
 ' Mr. Walters,' said Lady Winter, holding up 
 her finger reprovingly, ' my niece is quite naughty 
 enough. She doesn't want any stimulating.' 
 
 I give this little scrap of gossip to show the 
 effect which Tom produced in those days on some 
 of the most stylish of his contemporaries. But 
 although, not altogether, it must be confessed, 
 to his mother's approbation, Tom had kept his 
 remarkable appearance, he had changed in many 
 wavs from the beautiful boy who had woven 
 golden visions in the garden by the river. He 
 had been educated, and educated well. Actmg 
 on the advice of her friends, and chiefly of old
 
 THE HEIR 17 
 
 Mr. Cherry, legal adviser of the Bracebridges for 
 three generations, Mrs. Gregory had sent him first 
 to a good preparatory school, then to Eton, and 
 lastly to the University of Oxford, where he had 
 just finished his term with credit. It was the 
 general opinion that this elaborate and costly 
 training, which was supposed to have eaten largely 
 into Mrs. Gregory's slender resources, had been 
 thrown away upon Tom, who decHned to belong^ 
 either to the church, the bar, or the army — the 
 only professions which were in those days con- 
 sidered admissible for a gentleman. But ]Mrs, 
 Gregory was satisfied. ' It has made an Eno-lish- 
 man of him,' she said. 
 
 This was a little puzzling to the friend to 
 whom the remark had been made. ' Why- 
 Englishman P ' she said ; ' he was English be- 
 fore.' 
 
 ' I ought to have said '• gentleman," ' she an- 
 swered ; ' but, to my mind, the one includes the 
 other.' She was certainly no fool, this fair, 
 placid-faced widow. 
 
 Unfortunately, to be an Englishman, or even 
 an English gentleman, is not remunerative as a 
 profession, and it having been constantly im- 
 pressed upon Tom that, if he were ever to live in 
 that atmosphere of refinement which is sup- 
 posed to belong to a gentleman's condition, he 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 THE KAJAHS HEIR 
 
 must make money, it became necessary for him 
 to cast about for some means of doing so. 
 
 He pondered for several weeks, visiting 
 London two or three times in the interval. All 
 this time he said nothing to his mother, and she, 
 knowing his temperament, would not urge him 
 to speak. 
 
 Then one evening he asked formally if he 
 might have a little conversation with her, and 
 she knew, by the Hght in his face, that he had 
 come to a decision. 
 
 ' Well,' she said, smihng, ' what is it to be? 
 Will you take ^Ii\ Cherry's advice and be a 
 lawyer ? He will help you, I know, for the sake 
 of " Auld Lang Syne." ' 
 
 'So he was kind enough to say,' answered 
 Tom. ' But I thanked him and said " No." I 
 should make a poor lawyer. I want something 
 practical to do. If I were a rich man I should 
 enter the diplomatic service. As I am poor, I 
 wish to make myself an architect.' 
 
 ' An architect ! ' cried his mother, wondering 
 within herself what possible connection there 
 could be between the two professions. ' A 
 builder of houses, do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Houses, churches, cathedrals, playhouses, 
 anything I may be put to,' said Tom, smihng at 
 his mother's look of dismay. ' You see there is
 
 THE HEIR 19 
 
 something permanently useful about building- — 
 always supposing that you build well — and it 
 leaves the other half of the mind free.' 
 
 ' The other half! What in the world do you 
 mean, Tom ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know that I am very clear about it 
 myself, mother. But I think it will be good for 
 me to have my fingers and the constructive side 
 of my intelligence occupied.' 
 
 Of course Mrs. Gregory argued the point. 
 She had never heard of a Bracebridge being an 
 architect. Even the Gregorys, so far as she 
 could learn, had always belonged either to the 
 army or to one of the clerical professions. 
 Were architects gentlemen? Did they take a 
 place in society ? Could they make money ? 
 
 Her son quoted one or two great names out 
 of ancient and modern history ; but these did 
 not satisfy her in the least. When he continued 
 to urge his views she begged for time to consult 
 their friends ; but Tom would not hear of it. 
 
 ' No, mother,' he said, ' this is a question for 
 you and me, no one else. Can you put down 
 the money ' — he mentioned a comparatively small 
 sum — ' which will be necessary to bind me as 
 an apprentice, and will you undertake to keep 
 me for the next two years ? ' 
 
 ' As to keeping you,' said the poor woman, 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE KAJAH's heir 
 
 tears filling her eyes, ' I should do that under 
 any circumstances. What have I to hve for but 
 you ? But ' 
 
 ' Then, dearest mother, let us settle it so. 
 In any case I shall not be losing my time. 
 Every art acquired is an additional power and 
 resource. If I find I am mistaken, if I wish to 
 take up what you think a loftier walk of life, I 
 can always do it ; and, in the meantime, we are 
 together.' 
 
 Yes, they were together, that was the great 
 sweetener of everything ; and she was not one 
 to do battle for ideal excellence, or to stand firm 
 against well-sustained importunity. ' After all it 
 is you, not I, who are choosing a profession,' she 
 said feebly. ' And — and — you are not quite 
 
 like others. If things come to the worst ' 
 
 And here she broke ofi" and set her lips together, 
 as if she had a secret to guard. 
 
 ' If things come to the worst,' said Tom, who 
 was accustomed to these little breaks, and did 
 not mind them, ' we should manage to battle it 
 out somehow, little mother. I am not in the 
 least afraid.' 
 
 They arrived at this decision early in the 
 sprmg. It was then that General Sir Wilfrid 
 Elton, who was at home on a year's furlough 
 Irom India, paid a visit to his oid friend Mrs.
 
 THE HEIR 21 
 
 Gregory, and fell in love with the cottage ad- 
 joining hers that had been empty since the 
 previous summer. She was very frank in 
 pointing out its deficiencies : the tumbledown 
 condition of the fences and outhouses, the close 
 neighbourhood of the river, the likelihood of 
 damp. ' It would be pleasant to have neigh- 
 bours,' she said wistfully, ' but I should be 
 sorry for such old friends as Lady Elton and 
 you to do anything so important with your eyes 
 shut.' 
 
 ' We shall certainly not do that,' said the 
 General, with his hearty laugh. 
 
 ' But consider the girls ! ' said ]\Irs. Gregory, 
 a pink flush mounting to her face — the General 
 was such a curiously quizzical man. ' Tliis is a 
 dull place for young people.' 
 
 ' Dull ! ' echoed the General, clapping his 
 hand to his knee. ' You have spoken the word. 
 The good people in London have tired us out 
 with festivities. Since we came home it has 
 been one rush. Lady Elton is beginning to be 
 sick of it, so am L As for the girls, they must 
 make the best of it Two or three months of 
 eclipse in holland frocks and brown straw 
 hats will do the Httle monkeys all the good in 
 the world.' 
 
 Of course there was nothinsr more to be said.
 
 22 THE eajah's heir 
 
 Mrs. Gregory smiled sweetly, and with a tremor 
 at her heart, and an unuttered hope that if Lady 
 Elton and the General knew more about her 
 former life than her neighbours — a circumstance 
 concerning which she could not be perfectly 
 sure — they would be discreet, entered, with the 
 enthusiasm of a friend, and the practical ability 
 of an experienced housekeeper, into the arrange- 
 ments necessary to make the new menage com- 
 fortable. As a fact the Eltons proved most 
 delightful neighbours. Lady Elton and Mrs. 
 Gregory struck up a friendship which, while it 
 had the charm of novelty, drew much of its 
 sweetness from the past. The girls, who were 
 not httle schoolmisses, as might have been ima- 
 gined from their father's reference to hoUand 
 frocks and straw hats, but young women ranging 
 from twenty-two to seventeen, flashed in and out 
 of the widow's rooms, dragged her off with them 
 for picnics on the river, and filled up her some- 
 what barren days with the overflowings of their 
 exuberant life. As for the General, who had 
 become a great gardener in his retirement, he 
 looked in upon his neighbour, as a general rule, 
 once a day, to inquire after her health, and dis- 
 cuss the condition of their respective crops of 
 roses and strawberries. Tom meanwhile came 
 and went, going to town early in the morning and
 
 THE HEIR 23 
 
 returning home in the evening. To the surprise of 
 everybody he seemed to hke the hfe. He showed 
 a curious enthusiasm about his work, which he 
 would call neither a business nor a profession, 
 but an art. The evenings and the whole of 
 Saturday and Sunday were his own property ; 
 and then he would doff his city clothes and put 
 on the flannels that became him so well, and 
 either spin himself up and down the river in his 
 outrigger, to the admiration of the Elton girls, or 
 dream on his mother's lawn, or take tea, a little 
 primly, but withal satisfactorily, in their neigh- 
 bour's charming rose-garden, whither his mother 
 and Lady Winter, and Sir Eeginald her son, and 
 that pretty enigma, Vivien Leigh, would come ; 
 and sometimes after these tea-parties he would 
 find himself strolhng along the river with one 
 of the girls — occasionally Grace Elton, oftener 
 Vivien Leigh — while the ringing voices of the 
 rest of their little party sounded behind them ; 
 until the sunlight faded, and the httle stars 
 twinkled out in the pale zenith. 
 
 And so we come to that memorable day in 
 June, from which, as Tom was accustomed to 
 say later, everything dated. 
 
 It was that loveliest moment of all the Enghsh 
 year, when summer, which has been coquetting 
 for weeks with the enamoured earth, breaking
 
 24 THE KAJAH's HE[R 
 
 out one clay into sunny smiles, and on the next 
 liiding her sweet face in mists and clouds, has 
 issued forth at last in her full beauty. In the 
 irresistible magic of her presence the meadows 
 had become gemmed with flowers ; the beeches 
 and elms, and even the tardy old oaks, which are 
 of too ancient a lineage to be beguiled by mere 
 promises, lifted up golden -green canopies to the 
 heavens ; the birds — nightingales and larks, and 
 linnets and thrushes — made the copses and hedge- 
 rows resonant with joyful music. For three 
 whole days the sky and the river had been pene- 
 trated with sunlight. 
 
 In weather such as this Tom Gregory spent 
 as little time as possible in town. On the par- 
 ticular day which I am trying to recall he found, 
 to his contentment, that there was not much 
 doing, and he gained permission easily from the 
 head clerk of his department to leave earher 
 than usual. 
 
 His mother was out when he reached the 
 cottage — at Lady Elton's, the servant said. Pro- 
 posing to himself to join her there a little later, 
 he ran up to his room, threw off his city dress, 
 put on his flannels and went out into the garden. 
 
 There was a certain tree at its further end, a 
 weeping-ash with long pendent branches, under 
 whose shadow it was often his pleasure to hide
 
 THE HEIR 25 
 
 and dream. He would take out a volume of 
 poetry — Shelley and Coleridge were his favour- 
 ites — and lying on his stomach, with his head 
 propped on his elbows, would read a few stanzas, 
 just, as he would express it, to set himself going. 
 After that, if he had nothing particular to think 
 out, he would give a free rein to his fancy, which 
 would range over heaven and earth with the 
 unbridled, glorious luxuriance of youth. Mean- 
 time he would watch the waters as they flowed 
 past his retreat, taking absent note of the proces - 
 sion of boats and the laughing music of young 
 voices, which blended sweetly with the sighing of 
 the wind and the chanting of the birds. 
 
 This evening, as he remembered later, he had 
 taken out Coleridge. The volume opened of its 
 own accord at that magnificent fragment, 'Kubla 
 Khan.' He read it over twice, with that curious 
 rapture of satisfaction which nothing but the 
 greatest poetry can call out ; and then the mystic 
 imagery in its stately setting of miraculously 
 beautiful words set his mind wandering on a 
 wild vision quest of its own. 
 
 What the vision was, or whether he was bold 
 enough to imagine that he could build 
 
 That dome in air — 
 That sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice — 
 
 I must not venture to say, lest I should suddenly
 
 26 THE rajah's heir 
 
 find myself, ' like little wanton boys that swim 
 on bladders,' floundering in depths whither few 
 will care to follow me. 
 
 The dream lasted for an hour, and the boy 
 came to himself with a start, for an image, which 
 he did not in the least wish to detain, was haunt- 
 ing him. He sprang up, gave himself a shake 
 like a dog after a swim, and went slowly towards 
 the boat-house, murmuring, as he walked, the 
 words which had called up the unwelcome 
 image — 
 
 A savage place ! as holy and enchanted 
 
 As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted 
 
 By woman wailing for her demon lover ! 
 
 ' I wonder why that always makes me think 
 of Vivien Leigh,' he said to himself with a per- 
 plexed smile. ' I couldn't imagine her waihng 
 for any one, least of all a lover, demon or human. 
 Perhaps it's because she's a Httle inhuman her- 
 self. I'm sure she would have been put down 
 as a witch in the middle ages.' He began to 
 whistle a lively air to put Vivien out of his head. 
 Then her image was expelled by another. 
 
 Her face resigned to bliss or bale — 
 Her face, oh call it fair not pale, 
 And both blue eyes more bright than clear, 
 Each about to have a tear. 
 
 ' What a contrast ! ' he said to himself, as he
 
 THE HEIK 2 
 
 >T 
 
 stooped over his boat to loosen the painter. 
 ' She is human — exquisitely, beautifully human.' 
 
 At this moment he heard his mother calling 
 him, and, tying up his boat again, he went out 
 of the boat-house and on to the lawn. 
 
 ' Tom, Tom ! where are you ? ' She looked 
 flushed and excited and out of breath. 
 
 ' Here I am, mother ! ' he said. ' I thought 
 you were at the Eltons. I was just going to 
 take my boat round and see if any one was in. 
 You look tired, dear. Come and sit down by 
 the river.' 
 
 ' Oh, dear ! I have had such a hunt for you,' 
 she said. ' I went in to the Eltons after lunch 
 to get them to show me a new stitch, and the 
 girls and their father were out ; he has gone to 
 town, for a wonder. So Lady Elton and I sat 
 chatting about old days, forgetting altogether 
 how the time went, and then I came in to see 
 about your supper, and Sarah told me you had 
 been in an hour.' 
 
 'An hour or thereabouts, and I was just 
 going out for a stretch. Can it be time for 
 supper already ? ' 
 
 ' No, not quite ; but ' 
 
 And here she pulled up, for she perceived to 
 her annoyance that Tom was not listening to 
 her.
 
 28 THE rajah's heir 
 
 ' Do you hear me, Tom ? ' she said. ' The 
 post has just come in, and there is a letter ' 
 
 The boy held up his hand beseecliingly. 
 ' One moment, mother ! ' he pleaded. ' The 
 letter will keep and that will not.' 
 
 Now Mrs. Gregory did not agree with him in 
 the least ; as a fact, she had come out to find 
 him, being moved with an irresistible feeling of 
 curiosity concerning the contents of his letter, 
 which was of an unusual character, and ad- 
 dressed in an unusual hand. Tom had very few 
 correspondents, and his mother generally knew 
 from whom his letters came by merely glancing 
 at them. But she knew from experience that 
 Tom was not to be forced. PHant as he seemed, 
 there was a certain backbone of stubbornness 
 about him. So, keeping herself in check as well 
 as she could, she looked out at the sight ' which 
 would not keep.' It was certainly a pretty pic- 
 ture. Anybody would have been bound to con- 
 fess that. A pleasure-boat full of young girls, 
 ghding softly along a broad tranquil stream ; 
 their light garments and brown and golden hair 
 steeped in the rosy evening Hght. Of course it 
 was pretty. Mrs. Gregory, who liked and ad- 
 mired the ' dear girls,' from beautiful Grace, the 
 eldest, down to mischievous, tiresome, delightful 
 Trixy, the privileged baby of the two establish-
 
 THE HEIR 29 
 
 ments, thought it not only pretty but interesting. 
 There was nothing new, however, nothing to 
 provoke that irritatingly intense look on her 
 son's face and delay the gratification of her 
 curiosity. 
 
 But Tom ! Ah ! ' alchemy of youth and pas- 
 sion ; how it transforms everything it touches ! ' 
 To him not Cleopatra in her barge of state, 
 floating proudly down her river to the strains of 
 spirit quelling music, was so beautiful. 
 
 There were no less than five girls in the boat. 
 Two of them had been rowing, and, as the im- 
 petus given by their last vigorous strokes carried 
 it along, they leaned forward on their oars, gazing 
 dreamily into the shadows ; the third, a little 
 golden-haired creature, lay in the bows with her 
 face towards the water, and two sat in the stern — 
 one, a royal-looking girl, whose tense expression, 
 direct gaze, and upright attitude showed that 
 she liked the post of directress steering; the other, 
 a much softer, and, at the same time, a lovelier 
 woman, sitting back with hands folded, and 
 singing in a rich low voice a beautiful old Englisli 
 ballad. 
 
 As long as the voice could be heard and the 
 boat seen the boy on the river bank looked out 
 and listened. Presently the air carried the 
 sounds away, and the outlines of the boat were
 
 30 THE rajah's heir 
 
 lost in the shadows of the willows that fringed 
 the opposite bank. Then he turned to his 
 mother, 
 
 ' Only the Elton s,' she said. ' I thought, 
 from the way you called out, I was going to see 
 something wonderful. My dear boy, for pity's 
 sake, don't look so intense ! ' 
 
 ' I am afraid I can't help my looks,' said Tom 
 a httle stiffly. ' Shall we go back to the house ? 
 It is getting damp here. You will be having 
 your rheumatism again.' 
 
 ' Yes, discretion is the better part of valour,' 
 said Mrs. Gregory. ' Give me your arm, Tom. 
 I am not so young as I was once. You know, 
 dear ' — apologetically — ' you mustn't mind what 
 I say about your looks. To me it is just the 
 same, though, of course, I don't like to see you 
 dreamy and romantic, for I know to what these 
 things tend. I was so once myself.' 
 
 ' And it hasn't brought you to any great 
 harm, little mother.' 
 
 'I don't know that, Tom. However, I am a 
 woman, and I had friends to look after me — not 
 that they always — but that is neither here nor 
 there. You, my poor dear, k7iow what is before 
 you. A man in your position, with his way to 
 make in the world, must keep all his wits about 
 him, or he will soon find himself nowhere.'
 
 THE HEIR 31 
 
 ' A country about whicli I have always been 
 rather curious,' said Tom, to whom these ad- 
 monitions were not new. ' How if I tried a httle 
 wool-gathering, just to have a look in ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, well, you may laugh ; but you ^vill 
 remember my words some day, and I only hope 
 it may not be too late for your own comfort. 
 And now, perhaps, you will take your letter.' 
 
 'A letter for me!' said Tom. ' Why '— 
 scrutinising it — ' this looks important — blue 
 paper, black seal ! ' 
 
 ' I thought it rather funny myself,' said Mrs. 
 Gregory. ' But don't stare at it, child ! Open 
 and read it ! ' 
 
 ' Come inside first,' said Tom. 
 
 They went through a pretty little verandah, 
 well furnished with plants, into Mrs. Gregory's 
 drawing-room, which, though very far indeed 
 from tlie daintily-aesthetic apartment that ladies 
 haunt now, was pleasant and comfortable — well 
 supplied with books in handsome bindings 
 and fine engravings, and furnished with a low 
 couch, an ottoman, and several lounging-chairs. 
 Into one of these Tom plunged, and, having 
 thrown down his boating-cap on the table, 
 broke the seal of his letter. His mother, who 
 was watching him curiously, saw his face flush 
 red. Then she knew that there was something
 
 32 THE rajah's heir 
 
 in his letter which surprised him. It seemed to 
 her at that moment as if all the blood in her 
 body were rushing to her heart, which bounded 
 as if it would burst. The next thing she knew 
 Tom was lookincr at her, with the strano^est 
 expression in his face. 
 
 ' Did you know of this, mother ? ' he said. 
 
 ' Know of what ? ' she cried. ' Oh, Tom ! 
 Tom ! what is it ? Something has happened ! ' 
 
 'Yes,' he said; and she fancied now that 
 there was a curious, unusual glitter in his 
 eyes. ' Something has happened.' 
 
 She caught at his arm. 'It is something 
 dreadful. I am sure of it from your face.' 
 
 ' Dreadful ! ' echoed the boy, breaking into 
 a lauo-h which rang unnaturally in his mother's 
 ears. ' I think few people would call it so.' 
 
 ' But what is it? Oh, Tom I ' besought the 
 poor woman, as her son turned his soft medita- 
 tive eyes upon her. ' Speak at once, and don't 
 look at me in that way. Child ! child I It is 
 like a dream come to life again. I can't bear it. 
 Tom, I say ! Speak to me. God help me 1 He 
 hasn't looked so since he was a baby.' 
 
 It was Tom's turn to look surprised. ' My 
 dear mother,' he said soothingly, ' what is the 
 matter? I am afraid I have been frightening 
 you. It is very stupid of me ; but the news in
 
 THE HEIR ' 33 
 
 this letter is so extraordinary — so unexpected. 
 I have read over the principal part of it twice, 
 and I feel still as if I must be dreaming. But 
 Mr. Cherry is a man of business ; he would not 
 be likely to make a mistake.' 
 
 ' Mr. Cherry I Is the letter from him ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; he tells me he is the agent and 
 solicitor Mother, what is it ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing, dear, nothing — only you are 
 telHng the story rather slowly. Mr. Cherry, 
 you say ' 
 
 ' Perhaps you had better read the letter 
 yourself, mother. I can't say I understand it 
 quite.' 
 
 ' Yes, give it to me ! Quick ! I hear the 
 General coming up the garden. My dear boy, 
 don't look like that before him — don't, for pity's 
 sake ! ' 
 
 As she spoke she seized the letter, glanced 
 over its contents, put her hands before her eyes 
 as if the lamplight dazzled her, read it again, 
 and then, with a cry of mingled joy and sorrow^ 
 flung herself into her son's arms. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 THE RAJAH S HEIR 
 
 CHAPTEE II 
 GENERAL SIR WILFRID ELTOiS^ 
 
 The General was an intimate friend, who never 
 waited to be announced. He would come up 
 through the garden, examining its condition 
 critically, with a view to a report for Mrs. 
 Gregory's benefit, and, frequently, her gardener's 
 confusion. Then he would poke about the 
 verandah, where, on these fine evenings, his 
 neighbour was often to be found, and, faihng 
 that, he would look into the drawing-room. If 
 Mrs. Grregory was not there, he would make up 
 his mind that she was either dressing, eating, or 
 visiting ; and, keeping a careful mental note of 
 the particulars he had intended to report, would 
 return to his family. 
 
 The General was a man of whose friendship 
 anyone might have been proud. Simple as he 
 was in his speech and manner, it was well known, 
 even in ISurbiton, that, in his own line, he was a 
 briUiant and distinguished person. Though no 
 longer young, he was a fine man — a soldier every
 
 GENERAL SIR WILFRID ELTOX do 
 
 inch of him — not tall, but spare and muscular. 
 His hair was plentifully sprinkled with grey ; 
 his face was bronzed by years of exposure to 
 weather; his light blue eyes looked at you 
 keenly and steadily from beneath finely pen- 
 cilled brows that gave an air of refinement to 
 the face ; and his mouth, for all that it was half 
 hidden by a grey moustache, had, in its lines, 
 an expression of firmness and self-dependence 
 which would have won him respect anywhere. 
 The most superficial observer saw at once that 
 the General, debonair as he might be in his 
 manners, was not a person to be trifled witli. 
 This evening he came up the garden, as he was 
 accustomed to do, but rather more rapidly than 
 usual, and neglecting to take notes. 
 
 He was actually in the verandah when Mrs. 
 Gregory threw herself into her son's arms ; and, 
 had not Tom seen him and begged him to come 
 in, he would certainly have retreated. 
 
 ' I fear I am intruding,' he said, as Mrs. 
 Gregory, who looked curiously shaken, turned 
 to greet him. ' Just like me. Lady Elton said 
 to me, " Much better wait ; " but we are such 
 intimate friends ; besides — why, Mrs. Gregory, 
 my good old friend, you have borne so much 
 bad fortune with resolution, you are surely not 
 going to break down when good fortune comes 
 
 d2
 
 o6 THE rajah's heir 
 
 knocking at your door? She's a jade we don't 
 generally find it difficult to welcome. Tom, my 
 boy, I congratulate you. No more building 
 now — ell ! You'll be giving orders instead of 
 taking them — a very different sort of business. 
 You look surprised — only just know yourselves ? 
 Well, curiously enough, it got wind at the club 
 — how, heaven only knows. I believe that 
 rumours have wings. I was interested, of 
 course, having known all the family so well, 
 and I called in at Mr. Cherry's on my way home 
 to ask him if there was any foundation for the 
 rumour.' 
 
 'And he told you it was true?' said Mrs. 
 Gregory. 
 
 'Yes, he was civil enough to answer my 
 questions. The rajah's will, he says, will be 
 ])ublic property to-morrow, so it is no breach of 
 confidence.' 
 
 As he spoke he had settled himself in an 
 armchair and put his cane and wide-brimmed 
 straw hat on the floor beside him. ' Now, really,' 
 lie said, looking from mother to son, ' you are 
 the very funniest people I ever met. I expected 
 to find my young friend Tom dancing a war- 
 dance. Why, young man, do you know what it 
 means to be rich ? ' 
 
 ' I think I do, General'
 
 GENERAL SIR WILFRID ELTOX 37 
 
 V 
 
 * Oh ! do you? Then all I can say is, wait 
 till you see. It means a good many things, my 
 boy, that you can't so much as guess at. But 
 come, Mrs. Gregory, you can't feel it so much ! 
 How many years is it since you met your cousin, 
 the rajah ? ' 
 
 ' I am really afraid to think,' said Mrs. 
 Gregory, rousing herself with an effort. ' Still, 
 a death is a death, and it was so unexpected.' 
 
 ' You were in correspondence with the 
 rajah ? ' 
 
 'Oh no ! And that's what makes it so 
 strange. I might have thought — expected ' 
 
 ' Just so. You might have expected to be 
 remembered.' 
 
 'I don't know why,' said the poor woman, 
 with a wan smile. ' But, of course, there was 
 the relationship. Very distant, as you know. 
 My poor father and the late rajah of Gumilcund's 
 father were only half-brothers. If it hadn't 
 been for the infatuation of my grandfather, Sir 
 Anthony — but I am giving you ancient his- 
 tory ' 
 
 ' On the contrary, you are interesting me 
 very much. Sir Anthony was always staunch 
 to his Indian connections.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I wondered myself that he married a 
 second time.'
 
 THE EAJah's heir 
 
 ' Oh ! he was bound to have an English heir, 
 said the General, smihng, ' a determination to 
 which you may be said to owe your existence. • 
 But about this fortune, are there any particulars? 
 Your cousin, the rajah, you know, is said to have 
 been phenomenally rich. I heard something of 
 it when I was in India last, and, if I hadn't been 
 so busy, I should have got the resident Mont- 
 gomery to have me invited. A discovery was 
 made in the state the other day— -a ruby mine — 
 think of that ! I suppose it is Tom's now. They 
 say the city is a perfect little model. The rajah 
 was revivincr lost arts and setting^ a new civihsa- 
 tion going. Will Tom be expected to take the 
 supervision of it all ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, no, no ! There are absolutely no con- 
 ditions. Mr. Cherry says so expressly,' cried 
 Mrs. Gregory. 
 
 ' So much the better,' said the General. ' But 
 most probably the state will lapse to the Com- 
 pany. What is the matter, Tom ? Are you 
 waking up at last ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know,' said the boy. ' It is, of course, 
 a little bewildering, especially as I know nothing 
 whatever of the family history of which you and 
 my mother have been talking. But this I do 
 know. If I take up this responsibility I will 
 carry it through to the best of my abihty.'
 
 GEXERAL SIR WILFRID ELTON 39 
 
 ' But there is no responsibility,' said Mrs. 
 Gregory, wringing her hands. ' General, my 
 old friend, tell the boy so. He needn't surely 
 become an Indian rajah because a rajah has left 
 him a fortune.' 
 
 ' Of course he needn't,' said the General 
 lightly ; ' though, really, do you know ' — looking 
 at him — ' I think he would play the part pretty 
 well, Tom, take your mother's advice. She 
 has ten times more common sense than you have. 
 But ' — rising with reluctance — ' I must be going. 
 Supper? No, thank you. Uncommonly good smell, 
 though. We have cold meat. It's always cold 
 meat here. Those young monkeys of mine have 
 such confoundedly good appetites. Did you see 
 them on the river, by-the-bye ? Look well, don't 
 they, in their boating get-up ? ' 
 
 ' \'ery well indeed. General. Grace looks as 
 well again since she came down here,' said Mrs. 
 Gregory. ' AndTrixy ought to be strong. The 
 liveliness of that child ' 
 
 ' Keeps you awake, does she ? ' said the 
 General, stroking his iron-grey moustache and 
 looking out before him with a flash of satisfac- 
 tion in his keen blue eyes. ' Tell you what, 
 ma'am, that child has the courage and wit of the 
 family. She is a splendid little creature. You 
 see how she'll come out if ever she's tried ! And
 
 40 THE KAJAH's heir 
 
 that reminds me — the little witch has persuaded 
 me to let her go back with us this winter.' 
 
 ' Oh, General ! ' 
 
 ' It is very weak I know, but, positively, I 
 can't help it. You see, 1 am taking out the other 
 four, and it seems hard to leave her behind, poor 
 monkey.' 
 
 ' Yes ; but five sirls in India ! ' 
 
 ' You may well exclaim. I consider that the 
 responsibilities of a rajah's wealth are nothing to 
 mine. Fortunately they are as good as gold, and 
 then, you know, I am not like a grifi : I know 
 the ropes, and can make them pretty comfort- 
 able. That new bungalow of mine at Meerut 
 will be in first-rate order by this, and I mean to 
 send them up to xsainee Tal in the heats. Well, 
 I must really be trotting. I am carver, you 
 know, and I shall be scolded as it is. Come and 
 see my wife and the girls when you are a little 
 resigned and can talk it over calmly.' 
 
 He was talking when he crossed the verandah, 
 and when he left ofi" talking he whistled a lively 
 air and then sang lustily an old barrack-song of 
 his juvenile days, which brought him to his own 
 garden gate. He had no sooner opened it than 
 he was fallen upon by a troop of girls with light 
 garments and flowing hair. He flourished his 
 cane and made a feint of trying to. escape, but
 
 GENERAL SIR WILFRID ELTOX 41 
 
 they took the cane from him, wound their arms 
 about him and held him fast. Then, as they 
 moved forward in a troop towards the house, 
 drawing him on with them, they all began to 
 chatter together. 
 
 ' You're not at all a good strategist, dad,' 
 said one. ' We heard you a mile off.' 
 
 ' And we have been waiting about an hour,' 
 from another. 
 
 ' Supper's on the table ; and I'm as hungry — 
 as hungry — as a bear,' from a third. 
 
 ' Oh ! never mind Trixy,' cried a fourth sil- 
 very voice, ' she's always hungry. Tell us about 
 them.^ 
 
 ' Weren't they frightfully surprised ? ' 
 
 'They must have thought you an angel for 
 going in to see them at once.' 
 
 'But how did they look? What did they 
 say?' 
 
 ' Has Tom put on any airs yet ? ' This last 
 was from Miss Trixy. 
 
 ' Girls ! girls ! ' from the highest of the golden 
 heads, ' how is it possible for dad to answer you 
 if you all speak at once ? Come in, father ' 
 
 ' No, dear, don't ! Stay with us ; we're quite 
 as fond of you as Grace.' 
 
 ' And as fond of gossip, you cupboard- 
 love young women ! Come, clear off, Grace
 
 42 THE kajah's heir 
 
 and all. There's not a pin to choose between 
 you.' 
 
 He spoke in what was known as his voice 
 of thunder — a voice which had often made a 
 thousand dusky warriors quake ; but these 
 mischievous girls only chattered the more 
 rapidly, and clustered round him the more per- 
 sistently. 
 
 ' Where is your mother ? ' said the General. 
 
 ' In the dining-room,' said Trixy, ' sitting like 
 patience on a monument, waiting for you.' 
 
 ' Dear, dear ! Am I so very late ? I suppose 
 I did forget the time a little. Well, never mind. 
 Here we are ! Mother, my dear,' stooping to 
 kiss the forehead of a pretty elderly lady who 
 was sitting in an armchair by a little wood fire, 
 stitching at white work and smiling placidly, 
 ' you must excuse me. I am afraid I am late.' 
 
 'Are you late, dear?' she said, rising and 
 folding up her work, ' I didn't know. The time 
 slips away so quickly when one is busy. Oh, 
 the girls ! ' looking round affectionately. ' But 
 they are alw-ays hungry. Eiver air and strong 
 exercise, I suppose. Trixy, dearest, father would 
 like to get rid of his coat and see his letters. 
 Call Yaseen Khan.' 
 
 Trixy, who was afraid to leave the room lest 
 interesting news should be given in her absence,
 
 GENERAL SIR WILFRID ELTOX 43 
 
 went to tlie door and called out, and in the next 
 instant an Indian servant, old, but handsome 
 still, and dressed in gay garments of white and 
 red and gold, a voluminous snow-white turban 
 crowning his dark eyes and dusky face, appeared 
 upon the threshold. The General asked him 
 one or two questions in rapid Hindustani ; he 
 answered submissively, and then, going about 
 his business as steadily as if the issues of life and 
 death hung on its due performance, removed the 
 General's upper coat, his hat and gloves, and 
 laid before him the letters which had arrived by 
 the latest post. 
 
 The girls and their mother were in the mean- 
 time taking their places round the table, which 
 was plainly furnished with cold meat, bread, 
 and salad. A dish of exquisite pink and yellow 
 roses occupied the centre, and there was a hand- 
 some tea equipage opposite Lady Elton, and a 
 large silver bowl, heaped high with snowy rice, 
 at the General's end of the table. There was 
 certainly nothing luxurious here ; but in the 
 arrangement of the meal, no less than in the 
 appearance of those who were partaking of it, 
 there was an unmistakable air of distinction and 
 refinement. 
 
 The girls were hungry after their day on the 
 river, and for a few moments there was httle
 
 44 THE kajah's heir 
 
 heard but the clatter of knives and forks. Then 
 there was a httle pause. The General, who had 
 glanced over his letters and laid them aside, was 
 looking across at his wife. 'I saw ]\Irs. Gregory 
 and her son,' he said tentatively. 
 
 Immediately five pairs of inquisitive eyes 
 were turned upon Lady Elton. 
 
 ' Well ! ' she said, smihng. ' They had heard 
 the new^s, of course ? ' 
 
 ' Cherry's letter had just arrived.' 
 
 ' Only just ! I am afraid you were a Httle in 
 the way, Wilfrid.' 
 
 ' So I was, at first ; but I think now it was 
 as well. They were curiously upset.' 
 
 ' Poor dear Mrs. Gregory ! ' said Lady Elton 
 gently. ' I can well understand it.' 
 
 ' I don't think I should be upset if I heard 
 that I had come into a large fortune,' said a 
 mutinous Httle voice at the General's end of the 
 table. ' But Tom— how did he take it ? ' 
 
 'Do be quiet, Trixy ; let father speak,' whis- 
 pered the girl at her elbow. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Lady Elton, whose kind face had 
 grown curiously soft. ' Tell us about Tom. 
 The dear fellow is such a favourite of mine ! 
 Do you know it is quite delightful to me to think 
 that he is well ofi' — not, of course, that riches 
 mean happiness. I hope I am not so fooHsh as
 
 GEXEEAL SIR WILFRID ELTOX 45 
 
 to imacrine that. There are other thino-s ' — 
 
 o 
 
 looking round her with a glow of happiness in 
 her sweet old eyes — ' that come far, far before 
 riches. Still it is pleasant to have a competence. 
 A number of little anxieties are knocked off at 
 once, and then you can do kind things without 
 counting the cost.' 
 
 ' But, my dear wife,' said the General, ' per- 
 mit me to say that I don't think you have quite 
 grasped the position. The boy is the rajah of 
 Gumilcund's heir — his heir, mind you. Why, 
 he will be ridiculously — phenomenally rich ! ' 
 
 Lady Elton's colour rose, and she gave a little 
 troubled glance round the table, whence a pro- 
 longed ' Oh ! ' had risen. ' Then I can understand 
 his mother's uneasiness,' she said in a low voice. 
 ' It is always troublesome and dangerous to be 
 exceptional.' 
 
 ' But think of the pleasure and triumph if 
 you can be it well,' said Maud, the second girl. 
 It was she who had held the rudder-strings 
 in the boat that evening. 
 
 Then came the mutinous little voice in the 
 
 corner agam. 
 
 ' We are wandering from our point,' it cried 
 discontentedly. ' The point is Tom. Tom the 
 fortunate man, Tom the handsome man, Tom 
 the heir of this romantic person in India — what
 
 46 THE RAJAHS HEIR 
 
 did he say ? How did he look ? Did his eyes 
 shine ? He has such expressive eyes, you know ! 
 Never shake your head at me, Grace. You 
 said so yourself — I heard you— to mother, 
 " capable of expressing every shade of feeling " 
 — those were your very words.' 
 
 Upon this Grace blushed, a circumstance 
 which seemed to give the keenest satisfaction to 
 the mutinous little person in the corner ; the 
 other girls laughed, and Lady Elton called them 
 to order. In a momentary lull the General was 
 heard to say : 
 
 ' You young ladies observe pretty minutely, 
 I must confess.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes ! ' cried Trixy. ' Girls, do let 
 father speak.' 
 
 ' I was going to say, Trixy, that my eyes, I 
 am afraid, are not so clever as yours. As far as 
 I can remember, Tom took it very quietly, didn't 
 dance, didn't laugh, didn't put on height. His 
 eyes may have shone ; but, as I am not a com- 
 petent observer, I refuse to pledge myself. My 
 impression is that when you see him next you 
 will know him.' 
 
 ' Father, do you know that you are not at 
 all interesting ? ' cried the irrepressible Trixy. 
 
 ' Oh ! if you want romance you shall have 
 it. Give me five minutes '
 
 GEXEEAL SIR WILFRID ELTOX 47 
 
 'You know we don't want romance. We 
 want facts.' 
 
 ' Which I have given you, Miss Monkey.' 
 
 ' A very meagre supply, dad.' 
 
 ' Limited inteUigences ' 
 
 ' Excuse me, dad ; people with powers of 
 observation and inference ' 
 
 * Take this girl away I ' cried' the General, 
 laughing. ' Inference, indeed, you monkey I 
 Why, there will be no living with you soon. 
 You have finished supper. Go, all of you ! 
 Come, I dismiss you with my blessing ! And, 
 Trixy ' 
 
 ' Yes, dearest,' bleated the little creature. 
 ' May I stay ? I'll be as quiet as a mouse.' 
 
 ' And drink in every word I say. No, thank 
 you. Tell Yaseen Khan to bring my hookah, 
 and then make yourself as scarce as you can. I 
 want to have a talk with mother.' 
 
 ' I wish I were mother,' said Trixy, look- 
 ing back discontentedly. But she obeyed her 
 father.
 
 48 THE rajah's heir 
 
 CHAPTEE ni 
 
 ' IN VISIONS OF THE NIGHT ' 
 
 Leaving the girls to think over what they had 
 heard, we return to the heir and his mother. 
 Unlike as they were in appearance and tempera- 
 ment, a strong affection united them. Mrs. 
 Gregory had her weaknesses — her tremors, her 
 hesitations, her curious infelicities of speech and 
 action ; but all of these her son tolerated, even, in 
 a sense, loved. What to him rose grandly above 
 them was the self-forgetting affection which 
 throughout his life had shone out before him. 
 
 She, naturally, adored him. He may not 
 have been altogether what she would have liked 
 him to be, but he was hers. She had watched 
 him through his infancy ; in his childhood she 
 had made herself a child again that she might 
 love the things he loved ; she had nursed 
 him in his little sicknesses ; she had taught him 
 his catechism, and creed, and collects, and the 
 beautiful old stories of the Old and New Testa- 
 ments ; with a full heart and passionate prayers
 
 'IX VISIOXS OF THE NIGHT ' 49 
 
 she had sent him out to the perilous httle worlds 
 of school and college ; and now it was her chief 
 interest and dehght to provide him with the 
 physical comforts which, she always maintained. 
 kept the mind serene and the body vigorous. 
 
 Sometimes she was dimly conscious, poor soul, 
 that he was moving away from her spiritually. 
 Having caught scraps of his conversation here 
 and there, she had begun to feel afraid that his 
 ideas strayed beyond the limits of the faitli :^lle 
 had so patiently taught him. During the day- 
 time, when he was away, she would take up the 
 book he had been reading last — a volume of 
 transcendental poetry or a dry philosophical 
 treatise, and try — oh ! so pitifully — to under- 
 stand what it was in it that interested him. Her 
 efforts were all in vain. After an hour of 
 patient effort she would put down the book 
 with a heavy sigh. Her failure was a measure 
 of the distance that separated them — a proof, if 
 any were needed, that the}" moved in different 
 worlds. 'What was the use of giving him to 
 me,' she would say to herself sometimes with a 
 curious bitterness, ' if he was only to belong to 
 me in his childhood ? He is very little mine now. 
 He will soon not be mine altogether.' 
 
 But these were only moments in her life ; 
 moments, indeed, of which Tom knew nothing ; 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE RAJAHS HEIR 
 
 and to say that to any appreciable degree they 
 coloured the everyday existence of the mother 
 and son would be extravagant. As a fact they 
 lived together harmoniously and pleasantly, 
 having entire confidence one in the other. 
 
 And so, on this strange evening, when the 
 General had gone and supper was over, Tom, 
 who was naturally burning to understand his 
 new position, expected that his mother would 
 sit down in her usual pleasant, gossipy way and 
 talk it over with him. No such thing. She 
 annoyed him by bustling about. There was a 
 letter she had forgotten to answer. Wouldn't 
 it do to-morrow ? Certainly not (severely) ; 
 to-morrow had its own duties. Then an account 
 to be dotted up. Wouldn't Tom help her? she 
 said feebly. She had a poor head for figures. 
 While he was looking over it she slipped away, 
 and half an hour later, when he went in search 
 of her, he found her in the kitchen overlooking 
 Sarah's performances. She was so worn out 
 that he simply carried her away with him by 
 sheer force of will, and laid her down on the 
 co-ich in the drawing-room, where she remained 
 witli her eyes closed for some minutes. 
 
 Unfortunately for herself she was too active 
 and restless to keep up any longer the feint of 
 repose. She got up for her work, and her son,
 
 ' IX VISIONS OF THE XIGHT ' o 1 
 
 seizing his advantage, pursued her with ques- 
 tions. Not one of those questions would Mrs. 
 Gregory answer directly. When he urged her, 
 saying he would rather she should answer them 
 than anyone else, she pleaded that she was as 
 bewildered as he was. He could understand 
 that, he said, but she must know more. For 
 instance, she had met the rajah — he had heard 
 her say so to General Elton. What w^as he 
 like ? 
 
 ' Did I say so ? ' said Mrs. Gregory. 
 
 ' Mother dear,' cried the boy, ' do you object 
 to being questioned ? ' 
 
 'Oh no. Why should I.^' she said, the 
 colour mounting to her face. ' But it is so 
 many, many years ago.' 
 
 ' That you met the rajah ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' Still, you remember him.' 
 
 ' As he was then ? ' 
 
 ' Of course, as he was then. Couldn't you 
 give me your impression of him ? That will be 
 some little guide.' 
 
 ' Why are you so anxious, Tom ? ' 
 
 ' Well, mother ; but i^n't it natural ? He 
 has come into my life as a new power — new to 
 me, although, of course, he must have known of 
 me, and been thinking of me for a long time.' 
 
 e2 
 
 •-'8RARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF (I
 
 52 THE rajah's heir 
 
 Then breaking off: ' How pale you are, dearest ; 
 have I said anything to hurt you ? ' 
 
 ' Xo, no, it is nothing. It is only that I see 
 you moving away from me — so far — so far — 
 and ' 
 
 ' Mother ! ' 
 
 She came to herself with an effort. ' Forgive 
 me, my son,' she said. ' I am not very strong, 
 I suppose, and you know ' — with a little smile — 
 * a great change hke this always gives one a 
 certain shock.' 
 
 ' I am tiring you with my silly questions.' 
 
 ' Not at all ; and I don't think they are 
 silly. It is natural you should wish to know 
 something of the man who has enriched you. 
 But I had rather, on the whole, you went to 
 Mr. Cherry. The business has been in his hands 
 for a number of years.' 
 
 ' It isn't the business, mother ' 
 
 ' I understand, dear. I understand perfectly. 
 Well ! ' drawing her lace shawl about her, 
 ' another day. How curiously chiUy it is 
 becoming ! Will you shut the window ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, mother.' He had been sitting 
 close beside her. He now took a chair at a 
 little distance and took up a book. 
 
 Mrs. Gregory watched him with a wistful 
 pain at her heart. She was conscious to the
 
 ' IX VISIONS OF THE XIGHT ' 53 
 
 finger-tips of his disappointment, and she hated 
 herself for inflicting it ; but there was nothing 
 to be done. She could not speak. She would 
 not if she could. Yet the distance he was 
 putting between them wounded her intolerably. 
 After she had borne it as long as she could she 
 called him. He was at her side at once. ' I 
 am afraid I have disappointed you, dear,' she 
 said. ' Sit down near me again, and we will 
 talk.' 
 
 He obeyed silently. He thought he would 
 crive her the initiative this time, determinino-, 
 whatever she might say, not to show his feelings 
 again. By that dehcate perception, which was 
 one of heaven's best gifts to him, he had long 
 since learned to understand and shield his 
 mother's sensitiveness. 
 
 She, poor woman, scarcely knowing what 
 she said, drifted into mysterious warnings and 
 entreaties. He must be wise ; he must do 
 nothing rashly ; he must be guided by Mr. 
 Cherry, who was a good man and a Christian. 
 Tom gave her the assurances she asked ; but 
 they did not satisfy her ; and, I think, it was a 
 relief to them both when, on the stroke of ten, 
 the little maid of the establishment came in with 
 her Bible to take part in the pathetic ceremony 
 with which their day always closed.
 
 54 THE kajah's heir 
 
 When his mother left him Tom sat down 
 and looked round for a few moments, blankly. 
 He was tired ; but he could not rest until he 
 had thought out this strange thing that had 
 come to him, and here it was impossible to 
 think. The atmosphere of the room oppressed 
 him. He had a curious, irritating impression 
 that, though his mother's bodily presence had 
 gone, her spirit was haunting the place, prevent- 
 ing him from thinking freely. At last he opened 
 the French window softly, let himself out into 
 the garden, and, allowing his feet to carry him 
 along mechanically, found himself presently on 
 the lower lawn, close by the boat-house and 
 willows. There he stopped and let his eyes 
 wander at their will. Ah ! what a world it 
 -vvas — this soft, mysterious midnight world of 
 June ! Think ! How could he think ? But, 
 happily, there was no need yet. The hours of 
 the sweet summer night were before him. With 
 a deep inspiration, in which he seemed to be 
 throwing off a heavy burden, he flung himself 
 down on the grass, his face towards the sky, his 
 feet towards the river, while he gave himself 
 up to the rapturous sense-impressions of the 
 moment. He saw the upper sky, veiled here 
 and there wdth thin, vaporous cloud-wreaths ; 
 and it w^as so near it seemed to be stooping to
 
 'IN VISIONS OF THE XIGHT ' 55 
 
 embrace him. There was a streak of silver 
 between the cloud-wreaths. It shone out, dis- 
 appeared, shone out again, and the fleece about 
 it was tinged with pale gold. It was a horn 
 of the young moon — the moon on which 
 Endymion's heavenly love descended, when on 
 that starry night long ago she kissed his eyes 
 open to behold her. Through ' the solemn 
 midnight's tingling silentness ' he could hear the 
 swish of the water as it swept over the long 
 grasses and reeds at his feet. Lovely water ! 
 and the lish that swam in it, were they awake 
 too? Did they go on swimming all the night 
 through ? Lovely water ! And lovely, lovely 
 little earth ! Ah ! how sweet it was to live — 
 only to live and breathe in her arms on such 
 a night as this ! 
 
 It might have been a moment, it might have 
 been an hour, that the boy lay upon the river 
 bank. He could never tell. Of the prick — the 
 tiny throb of self-consciousness, that called him 
 out suddenly from his Eden he would often speak 
 later with a smile. He sat up, frowned, drew 
 his relaxed muscles together. This was not what 
 he had meant when he came out into the soli- 
 tude, he said to himself severely. He was a man, 
 not a thing ; it was a weakness, a folly, to allow 
 himself to drift into mere sensuousness.
 
 .36 THE rajah's heir 
 
 Ha ! what was that ? He turned round sud- 
 denly. It was a sound like a silver bell ringing 
 close beside him. If he had been a child he 
 might have thought that a fairy in a hly cup 
 was laughing at him ; the sound was so definite, 
 so curiously round and clear. 
 
 Giving no attention to it he set himself 
 sternly to his task, and two or three ideas about 
 the relative values of riches and poverty — ideas 
 far too fine and exalted to be put down here — 
 followed one another through his mind. It was 
 a young mind, as we know. Young minds are 
 superior. If we have ever tried to walk on a 
 tightrope, get up early in the morning, or take 
 a precipitous hillside at a rush, and succeeded, 
 we shall know how they feel. It is their new- 
 ness which we experienced people should not 
 grudge them. In a little time — we know how 
 very httle — they will find out that there is nothing 
 new under the sun. 
 
 Now the young heir, who was exceedingly 
 new, felt a certain throb of exultation in the cir- 
 cumstance that he was able to feel as a serious 
 man should when a great change comes into his 
 Ufe. The train of thought being pleasant he 
 followed it out. I believe he made one or two 
 correct resolutions. He would not be led away 
 uito foolish and selfish extravao-ance ; he would
 
 'IX YISIOXS OF THE XIGHT ' 57 
 
 avoid flatterers ; he would do as much good as 
 he could with his money. Not original. Oh 
 dear no ! commonplace, I am afraid. But good- 
 ness is just the one thing that does not require 
 genius to conceive it. I wonder if that is the 
 reason why it is so often thought dull ? The 
 kind of thinkincf on which Tom was encfacred 
 tends to restlessness, and hence the downfall 
 which I am about to record. 
 
 He got up from the grass, and walking on 
 aimlessly left his mother's garden, and went on 
 for a few paces down the road. Presently he 
 pulled up with a smile and a start. He was at 
 the side gate of the Eltons' garden. An irre- 
 sistible desire seized him to go in. Trying the 
 latch, and finding the gate unlocked, he stole in 
 noiselessly. He was in a narrow path that led 
 through a thick shrubbery. In its midst he 
 paused. All his wise thoughts, all his correct 
 resolutions, had flown, and his heart was beating 
 fast and furiously. What was this — what was 
 this — which was rushing through him, tingling 
 in liis veins like wine of Paradise ? ' And a 
 spirit in my feet ' — he murmured the words half 
 aloud — 
 
 * A spirit in my feet 
 Hath led me — wlio knows how ? 
 To thy chamber-window, sweet.'
 
 &5 THE EAJAHS HEIR 
 
 Slowly lie went on along the dark little path. 
 It came out on the rose-garden, Grace's special 
 pride and care, which was now in its full glory. 
 By the faint light of the summer dawning, for 
 the night was already on the turn, he could see 
 the clustered blossoms, crimson and pink and 
 yellow, hanging from trellises and pillars, and 
 weighing down the branches of the young stan- 
 dards. But it was not this that made him pause 
 and catch at a pillar of the verandah for support. 
 Once already that night the beauty of the earth 
 had touched him. Now it was something more. 
 As he stood the branch of a tall standard was 
 swept towards him by the breeze. There were 
 roses on it, opened and half opened. He caught 
 at it passionately. Ah ! how well he knew the 
 touch of the soft pale petals, the odour they ex- 
 haled ! It was a La France, Grace's favourite 
 rose. The last time he saw her she had worn 
 one in her girdle. Scarcely knowing what he 
 did he kissed the sweet flower that had touched 
 him. But in the next instant the colour had 
 flooded his face, and he was passing on rapidly 
 to the lawn by the river, for it was as if he had 
 stolen what he had not won, as if his lips and 
 her lips had met on the petals of the flower that 
 was her darling. 
 
 At the end of the lawn there was a bank
 
 ' IX VISIONS OF THE XIGHT ' 59 
 
 crowned with willows, at whose roots purple 
 loosestrife and rosy willow-herb were growing. 
 He could see these things dimly as he looked out 
 before him. Under one of the willows was a 
 rustic seat, where the girls often clustered in the 
 evening. Tom sat down upon it and gave him- 
 self up to the dreams that were crowding upon 
 him. Dreams ! Dreams ! In a misty radiance 
 of lovely shapes they swept by him. What a 
 fool he had been ! It was the beauty of nature ; 
 it was love that binds young hves together ; it 
 was passion, whose feet were on earth, and whose 
 soul was in heaven which was the reahty. 
 These other things — reason, philosophy, maxims 
 of prudence — they were an illusion — webs that 
 the dull of heart weave to hide their o^vn dulness 
 from themselves. And, after all, why should a 
 man think ; w^hy should a man be serious when 
 happiness such as this — tldsl was opening out 
 before him ? 
 
 He got up and walked on for a few steps. 
 His feet Avere unsteady, and, with a smile of self- 
 ridicule, he sat down again. He spread out his 
 arms with a low cry. ' Grace ! ' he murmured. 
 ' Grace ! do you know that I love you ? ' 
 
 He paused. The faint, sweet kiss of the 
 pale-petaled rose was hngering about his lips. 
 He was remembering how, two days ago, only
 
 60 THE rajah's heir 
 
 two, when he and she were together here — 
 here at this very spot, he had longed to sj)eak 
 but dared not. That rose was in her girdle. 
 His lips had been open to ask for it. Something 
 had sealed them. He was too young — too in- 
 significant — his fortunes were too uncertain. 
 For her sweet sake he had held himself in check. 
 
 Now — ah ! everything had changed. He 
 was no longer insignificant — he was the heir of 
 a man of wealth and distinction — his fortunes 
 were certain — he could make a future for the 
 woman he loved. If, as he had imagined, 
 dreamed 
 
 But he could go no further. He fiung him- 
 self on the grass. His lips were towards the 
 earth, and it was as if he was speaking to it — 
 telling it the secret ecstasy that he had not 
 breathed to any living soul. ' I could not speak 
 til en, but I can now. This wealth has freed my 
 hand. They will listen to me — they must ! And 
 she ! Oh, Grace ! oh, my darling ! Come to 
 me and I will make the earth a Paradise to you ! 
 Others do not know what love means. They 
 promise and they forget. I never will. My love ! 
 my beautiful love ! Come to me, and let me 
 care for you. I will, I will. Care for you as 
 never woman was cared for before. Yonr 
 lightest wish shall be my law. Your very
 
 ' IX VISIONS OF THE NIGHT ' 61 
 
 imaginations and dreams shall come to pass. 
 You and I, Grace, you and I — our two lives 
 shall How on together, loving and beloved, 
 until 
 
 What was this ? He pulled up short. It 
 was a pang, sudden and swift, like a cold hand 
 on his heart. He rose slowly, and found that 
 his limbs were stiff, and that his clothes were 
 wet with the night dews. Like one in a maze 
 he went on, for a few steps, blindly. The roots 
 of a willow stopped him, and he saw that he 
 was on the edge of the sloping bank that ran 
 down to the river. He stood where he was, 
 gazing out before him, with eyes that saw 
 nothing. In that httle instant all his ecstasy 
 had gone, to be replaced by a dull misery such 
 as he had never felt before. Between night and 
 morning there is a moment wdien life is said to 
 run sluggishly in the veins of earth's children. 
 It is then that the long-tortured drop into bliss- 
 ful, if brief unconsciousness ; that watchers nod 
 drowsily; and that the dying fall on the sleep 
 that knows no waking. That moment had come. 
 
 Tom lifted his heavy lids and looked round 
 him. A chill stole through his frame, pene- 
 trating to the very marrow of his bones. He 
 buttoned his coat up to the chin and turned to 
 leave the garden. But in the next instant he
 
 62 THE rajah's heir 
 
 was transfixed. It was as if a hand of iron was 
 laid upon his wrist, compeUing him to stand 
 where he was. 
 
 He passed his hand before his eyes dreamily. 
 
 When, after a brief interval, he looked up, 
 it seemed to him that the colour of the water 
 liad changed from the pale crystal of the 
 morning to deep blood-red. The trees were 
 changing too. taking strange and undistinguish- 
 able shapes, while there came towards him on 
 the breeze a confused murmur as of a multitude 
 of steps and voices. 
 
 Again he closed his eyes ; again he strove to 
 shake off the leaden weights that held his feet in 
 prison ; but it was useless. He looked up to 
 find all the familiar features of the landscape 
 gone. What had been the river was a zone of 
 burnincr sand over which hung a sky lurid and 
 awful ; the confused murmur was still in his 
 ears ; but it had drawn nearer, and the crimson 
 cloud that had hung between earth and heaven 
 seemed to be descending and distributing itself 
 in multitudinous forms. Then, in a moment or 
 less, the zone of sand is filled with figures — 
 figures dark of face and threatening of aspect, 
 that brandish steel-bright swords in their hands. 
 
 He looks, but he cannot stir. It seems to 
 him in those awful moments that there is more
 
 ' IX VISIOXS OF THE NIGHT ' 63 
 
 to come — that he is waiting for it. Suddenly it 
 rises — or has it been there all the time and has 
 he not seen it ? — the vision of a woman, in white 
 garments, with golden hair and sad, wnld eyes. 
 Her face — not as he has ever seen it ; but hers. 
 A groan breaks from his hps. ' It is a dream,' 
 be says to himself. ' It is a dream.' 
 
 But a sound rises above the fierce cries of 
 the warriors, a sound piercing and shrill ; it is 
 the voice of his love, wild with terror, calling 
 out upon his name. Passionately he tries to 
 reach her but he cannot, and all the time, hke 
 the wild insulting chorus of fiends, his own 
 words, ' Come to me, and I will make the world 
 a Paradise to you,' are running through his 
 brain. 
 
 His limbs are trembhng now, and the cold 
 drops of anguish stand upon his brow. ' Oh, 
 God ! ' he cries, ' I have sinned. Be merciful ! 
 I can bear no more ! ' 
 
 Scarcely are the words out of his lips before 
 the blood-red pavement, the fierce faces, and the 
 lurid sky have gone. But she — his love — is 
 still before him, a pale, sweet phantom, with 
 wonder and a wistful tenderness in its eyes. 
 
 In that same instant the chain that had 
 bound his limbs is loosened. Crying out 'Grace! 
 Grace ! ' he dashes forward blindly.
 
 64 THE rajah's heir 
 
 Id the next instant our dreamer found him- 
 self sprawHng on his back upon the grass, two 
 hands of iron holding him down, and a pair of 
 glittering grey eyes above him. 
 
 ' No, you don't,' said an irate voice, as he 
 tried to release himself 'No, you don't, sir. 
 If you must commit suicide I can't help it, of 
 course, but it shall not be in my compound. 
 Keep, still, I tell you, madman ! I'm not so young 
 as I was, but I'm strong enough to fight you, 
 and, by Jove, if you attempt to stir, down you 
 go again.' 
 
 By the time this harangue was over Tom had 
 recognised the features of his captor, realised 
 the absurd nature of his position, and was laugh- 
 ing heartily. 
 
 ' Is it you, General ? ' he said. 
 
 ' You know me, I hope,' said the old soldier 
 sternly. 
 
 ' Oh yes, perfectly. Would you be kind 
 enough ? Thank you,' as the General, who 
 was reflecting that intending suicides did not 
 generally preface their last exit with so natural 
 a laugh as this of Tom's, relaxed his hold. ' Do 
 you know. General, your hands are like iron ? ' 
 Tom sprang to his feet as he spoke. 
 
 ' Like iron are they ? ' he said. ' Well, they 
 have had to do hard work in their time. But
 
 'IX VISIONS OF THE XIGHT ' 65 
 
 come, boy — seriously — I should like to know 
 what you mean by it.' 
 
 ' By what, General ? ' 
 
 ' By being here at this extraordinary hour to 
 begin with. I don't believe, myself, that you 
 have been in bed all nis^ht.' 
 
 Tom looked sheepish. It would not quite 
 liave done to quote Shelley's couplet to tlie 
 General, and there was absolutely no other 
 reason to give for his presence in the garden 
 save that ' the spirit in his feet had led him 
 thither.' 
 
 ' I am really very sorry ,' he began. 
 
 ' Understand me,' interrupted the General, 
 mollified by his penitence, but feeling bound to 
 express his displeasure: 'I have no objection to 
 see you either in the garden or in the house. I 
 have begged you again and again to come and 
 go as you please. Lady Elton has done the 
 same. She has a strong regard for you, and so 
 have I. But, sir, when you go in for extra- 
 ordinary athletic performances, I must beg you 
 to find another field than mine for the display 
 of your talent. Also ' — and here his very hair 
 seemed to bristle with indignation — ' to find 
 another name than my daughter's to hang rhap- 
 sodies to. A very pretty little story would have 
 got about if anj'one but myself had been here. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 THE rajah's heir 
 
 And,' he added as he turned away, ' there's too 
 much talkmg as it is.' 
 
 The reddest of Grace's roses was scarcely as 
 red as Tom's face when the General turned away 
 from him. 
 
 ' Did I ? ' he stammered. ' I beg your 
 pardon — hers, I mean. I must have been 
 dreaming. I couldn't sleejD last night, General, 
 and ' 
 
 Now, a confession was the very last thing 
 the General desired. He broke in hastily : 
 
 ' All right, my dear fellow, all right. I 
 mustn't be too down upon 3^ou. It was a tre- 
 ]nendous piece of news that you received last 
 night, quite enough to set a young man's wits 
 wool-gathering. But take it quietly, if you can. 
 In six months, if I know human nature, you will 
 be so much accustomed to it that you will feel 
 as if you had been rich all your life.' 
 
 ' But it isn't the riches,' began poor Tom, 
 tremulously. ' It is ' 
 
 'Yes, yes. I understand. The chanofe — 
 prodigious, as 3"ou say. Xow don't talk any 
 more. Go home like a sensible fellow and have 
 a good sleep.' 
 
 * If I might have a little conversation with 
 you first, sir ' 
 
 ' Impossible, my dear boy. Quite out of the
 
 ' IN VISIONS OF THE NIGHT ' 67 
 
 question. Look at these ' — pointing to the pot- 
 plants — roses and geraniums and fuchsias and 
 lilacs, which Ya^^een Khan and the gardener 
 were brinsfinor down in batches and placino- 
 beside the river — ' all to be seen to before tlie 
 sun rises.' 
 
 ' I shall not be long. I only want to ask you 
 a single question.' 
 
 ' But how long will it take to answer ? Xo, 
 no ; I am not going to be betrayed into an ar- 
 gument. It takes all one's wit, I can tell you, to 
 deal with one's plants.' 
 
 As the General talked be worked. He had 
 thrown off his coat and tucked up his shirt- 
 sleeves, and lighted a small briarwood pipe, and 
 he was moving about briskly among the plants, 
 waterincr them, syrin^ino; them, washinor bhojit 
 off their foliage, loosening the earth about their 
 roots, and drenching them with tobacco-smoke. 
 
 Tom meanwhile held his ground, watching 
 him. Whenever there w^as a pause he would 
 jump up, as tlie old man said to himself dis- 
 contentedly, ' hke a Jack-in-the-box.' But he 
 never found an openiuL^ for the little conversa- 
 tion that he so earnestly desired, and finally the 
 flight of time and the General's perseverance 
 carried the day. In a few moments, if he re- 
 mained where he was, a bevy of laugliing girls 
 
 i- 2
 
 68 THE kajah's heir 
 
 would be down upon him, pouring out questions 
 which he might find it difficult to answer. 
 
 So he rose regretfull}^. ' I will come again, 
 when you are not so busy,' he said. 
 
 ' Yes, yes ; certainly,' said the General, cor- 
 dially. ' Come again, by all means. You are 
 always welcome. But if I don't look to the 
 plants early they sufier. Good rest to you, my 
 boy, and a pleasant awakening.' 
 
 When Tom had gone he breathed a deep 
 sigh of relief. But his work flagged, and in a few 
 moments he left the gardener to finish it, and 
 went up slowly to the house, to see if ' mother ' 
 was awake. 
 
 ' That's the worst of having girls,' he said to 
 himseK discontentedly. ' There is always some- 
 thing brewing. Now, if four of them were 
 boys ' 
 
 All I but which four ? That was the diffi- 
 culty. It seems unreasonable, but it is the 
 simple truth : for ' a wilderness of boys,' each 
 of them as handsome as Tom Gregory, the 
 General would not have given the least of his 
 little girls,
 
 69 
 
 CHAPTEE IV 
 
 A MYSTERIOUS LEGACY 
 
 Mr. Cherry, head partner of the firm of Cherry 
 & Lawrence, sat in his private room, expectinir 
 the young heir. A japanned box, bearing tlie 
 Bracebridge name on its hd, was at his feet ; 
 a bulky packet, sealed with many seals and 
 addressed ' Thomas Gregory,' was on the table 
 beside him ; and the parchment wrapper, out of 
 which, apparently, the packet had been taken, 
 lay spread out on his desk. The wrapper bore 
 the foUoTving inscription : — 
 
 ' To Wilham Cherry, of the City of London, 
 soHcitor, — My will and last instructions are 
 sealed up in this packet, which I desire may be 
 opened by you after my death, or, in case of 
 your dying before me, by the representative you 
 may appoint. By the love you bear me, I be- 
 seech you to see my last wishes carried out. 
 (Signed) ' Byrajee Pirtha Eaj.'
 
 70 THE EAJAH's HEIK 
 
 Four years before this mysterious packet bad 
 been conveyed to Mr. Cherry by a secure hand. 
 He was an old man, and the rajah was in the 
 prime of hfe. It had never, therefore, occurred 
 to him that his would be the hand to open it. 
 But the unexpected had befallen. The rajah 
 had fallen by the knife of an assassin ; and 
 when Mr. Cherry, in the presence of two wit- 
 nesses, opened the parcel left with him, he found 
 a formal, unusually brief will, duly signed and 
 witnessed, with the packet already mentioned, 
 which was to be oiven as it was into the hands 
 of the heir. 
 
 By this time Mr. Cherry had recovered from 
 his first shock of surprise, but to any who 
 knew him well it would have been evident that 
 he was still extraordinarily moved. He was a 
 person well known in London at that time. His 
 mellifluous voice, his gift of well-balanced and 
 persuasive speech, and his dignified manner, 
 with the snow-white hair that became him so 
 well, the broad massive forehead, determined 
 mouth, and calm blue eyes, made him the very 
 prince of family solicitors. The world said Mr- 
 Cherry had mistaken his vocation : lawn sleeves 
 and a bishop's crozier would have suited him far 
 better than a lawyer's gown. Mr. Cherry agreed 
 with the world. But Providence — a power to-
 
 A MYSTERIOUS LEGACY 71 
 
 wards which he maintained and instilled the 
 deepest reverence — had decreed it otherwise, 
 and he accepted his lot with cheerfulness, bring- 
 ing the gifts that would have adorned another 
 profession to the service of that into which he- 
 had been thrown. It must be confessed that 
 the gifts had proved useful. Mr. Cherry had ti 
 large and distinguished Hock of clients, en- 
 riched by whose gratitude he could have retired 
 years before from the arena of public life. But 
 to retire was just the one thing that they would 
 not let him do. It was whispered that men and 
 women went to him as to a father-confessor ; 
 that secrets which would have stac^crered tlie 
 brain of an ordinary man were hidden away 
 securely behind that calm, wide brow ; and that 
 the reputations and fortunes of some of the 
 noblest families in England were in his keeping. 
 However that may have been, it is certain that 
 no one ever repented having confided in him. 
 His clients were his children, whom it was his 
 pleasure, no less than his duty, to protect and 
 guide. 
 
 The Bracebridges had for years belonged to 
 
 the number of Mr. Cherry's flock. The rajah 
 
 who had just died was their last male re;»re- 
 
 ' sentative, for the English branch had long died 
 
 out, and the family property, to the profound
 
 2 THE KAJAH's heir 
 
 grief of the old lawyer, had passed into other 
 hands. Mrs. Gregory, whose small patrimony 
 he had nursed carefully, was the only one left of 
 the family ; and although he was on perfectly 
 good terms with her, he had allowed her, when 
 she married Captain Gregory, to pass out of the 
 sphere of his influence. He was sorry to-day 
 that he had not seen more of her boy. 
 
 'It is a great responsibility to fall upon 
 young shoulders,' he said to himself, ' and I fear 
 the instructions won't help him much — a mys- 
 terious, a most mysterious dispensation of Pro- 
 vidence. May God help and guide the poor 
 boy!' 
 
 This was not a mere form. Mr. Cherry did 
 beheve firmly in a Power overruling the seem- 
 ingly capricious allotments of what fools call 
 fate. That he felt it expedient from time to 
 time to remind this august Ordainer of the 
 consequences that might flow from His mys- 
 terious dispositions was a fault rather of the 
 head than of the heart. He had himself in his 
 small way more than once played the part of 
 a human Providence, and he was conscious, 
 even to morbidness, of the importance of the 
 role. 
 
 While he sat thinking Tom was shown in. 
 He rose and saluted him gravely. ' Mr. Gregory,'
 
 A MYSTERIOUS LEGACY "73 
 
 he said, ' I congratulate you. This is a great 
 change in your fortunes.' 
 
 ' So great, Mr. Cherry, that I have not been 
 able to realise it yet.' 
 
 ' I can understand that. But sit down. I 
 will try, with your leave, to make things clear 
 
 to you. Mr 3. Gregory, of course ' 
 
 ' One moment, Mr. Cherry,' broke in Tom. 
 ' I must begin by telling you that my mother has 
 told me nothing. I did not know, until yester- 
 day, that we had any Indian relatives at all. I 
 asked her to explain, and she referred me to 
 you.' 
 
 ' Very strange ! very strange ! ' said the lawyer 
 musingly. ' Mrs. Gregory was surprised ? ' 
 ' She was more than surprised.' 
 ' Shocked ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; I believe she was really shocked,' 
 said Tom. ' My mother told me, you know, to 
 speak to you freely,' he added. 
 
 ' Certainly. I should be pained if you did 
 not,' said Mr. Cherry in his most impressive 
 manner. ' Mr. Gregory, I have been the friend 
 of your mother's family for three generations. 
 They have all treated me with confidence. You. 
 it seems, are chosen to carry on the traditions of 
 the race. Why this is, I must tell you frankly, 
 I cannot even guess. But it is so. If you
 
 74 THE rajah's heir 
 
 permit it, I will be your friend as I have been 
 theirs.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Tom, grasping cordially 
 the hand which the old lawyer extended to him. 
 ' I accept your ofier with pleasure. And 1 only 
 hope I may prove worthy of your friendship.' 
 
 These preliminaries over, they proceeded to 
 business. In a few clear words Mr. Cherry 
 explained to Tom what the relationship had 
 been between his mother and the rajah. The 
 will, which should be laid before him presently, 
 was of the simplest. There were a few legacies 
 to servants and retainers, a bequest to Mr. 
 Cherry, and the remainder absolutely, in the 
 words of the will, to ' Thomas Gregory, my 
 cousin's son.' 
 
 ' Are there no conditions ? ' asked Tom. 
 
 ' Xone whatever. I gather from a private 
 letter, which I will put in your hands, that you 
 are nominated as your cou&in's successor in the 
 raj. But, asGumilcand has been for some years 
 a protected state, the Company will have some- 
 thing to say about that. You had better put 
 yourself in communication with the Lieutenant 
 Governor. There is a resident, who will look 
 after things there meanwhile. I have heard that 
 Lord Dalhousie had a particular affection for 
 Gumilcund. But this is all for the future.'
 
 A MYSTERIOUS LEGACY i -J 
 
 ' Whatever my responsibilities ma\ be,' said 
 Tom, ' I assure you that I have no desire to 
 shirk them.' 
 
 ' Well said,' answered Mr. Cherry. ' But we 
 must be patient. We must do nothing in a hurry. 
 I may tell you, in the meantime, that your 
 cousin had a considerable amount of property 
 in England. He sent over his surplus revenues 
 for us to invest. This was with the view, I 
 believe, of carrying out some new scheme. We 
 have large sums in our hands now waiting to be 
 dealt with, and you can draw^upon them as soon 
 as you like. I keep a clerk on purpose to deal 
 with what we call the Indian-Bracebridge pro- 
 perty — an intelligent fellow, and a keen man of 
 business. He sliall wait upon you at wdiatevcr 
 time you like to name, and give you every sort 
 of information.' 
 
 Here he paused and cleared his throat. The 
 dramatic moment of the interview had come, 
 and it had to be met with proper dignity. 
 
 ' You have something more to tell me,' said 
 Tom. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Mr. Cherry impressively. ' I have 
 something more to tell you. A will, as I have 
 often said, is public property. It is tlie duty of 
 the law to see it carried out. But men may 
 have wishes as well as intentions, although they
 
 76 THE kajah's heir 
 
 may not think it prudent to complicate their last 
 will and testament by inserting them. In such 
 case they will often leave them behind in other 
 forms, leaving it to their successors to carry them 
 out. This, I imagine, your cousin the rajah 
 has done.' He drew forward the sealed packet. 
 ' Inside the wrapper which contained the rajah's 
 will,' he went on, ' I found this.' 
 
 ' How strange ! How very strange ! ' said 
 Tom. ' This is just what I was hoping for.' 
 
 ' Take it away with you,' said Mr. Cherry, 
 ' and open it at your leisure. But let me say one 
 word first. There can be nothing legally bind- 
 ing in these papers. You will read them, of 
 course, and no doubt you will try to act in their 
 spirit ; but I should not advise you to attempt 
 to follow them slavishly. Your cousin, though 
 he had an English grandfather, was an Asiatic 
 of the Asiatics.' 
 
 ' Was he a Mohammedan ? ' 
 
 ' No ; nor, I believe, a Hindu ; but he was 
 not a Christian. I am afraid he had no settled 
 religion unless at the last; there is just the 
 hope. The truth was put before him faithfully, 
 though in weakness,' said Mr. Cherry, his voice 
 faltering. ' What I mean by his being an Asiatic 
 is that his sympathies were rather with the East 
 than with the West. He was one of the greatest
 
 A MYSTEEIOUS LEGACY 
 
 / i 
 
 Sanskrit and Persian scholars of our generation. 
 I am told he knew the Yedas and the Zend 
 A vesta, not to speak of all the great Hindu 
 poems and the mass of Buddhistic literature, as 
 we know our Bibles. It was marvellous that 
 one mind could have carried so much learning. 
 Yes, and he was a delightful man to meet — 
 courteous, gracious. He had the most wonder- 
 ful way of setting his friends at their ease and 
 overcoming their prejudices. I think sometimes 
 now that, but for this charm of manner, I might 
 have been more faithful with him. But ' — very 
 sadly — ' the opportunity has gone.' 
 
 As he spoke he rose from his seat. He saw 
 by the strained look in Tom's face that he was 
 listening to him with an effort. ' Excuse me,' he 
 said, ' 1 am an old man, and, I suppose, garru- 
 lous. You are anxious to be alone with your 
 papers.' 
 
 ' I shall open them at home,' said Tom 
 quietly. ' I am much obliged to you, Mr. 
 Cherry. I will come again when I have read 
 them, and perhaps you will tell me more about 
 my cousin then. I assure you ' — smiling — ' I 
 cannot hear too much.' 
 
 ' The boy has their manner — their look too,' 
 said the old lawyer to himself when be was left 
 alone. ' I wonder where he got it? Harking
 
 78 THE rajah's heir 
 
 back, I suppose. A very strange thing this 
 heredity is — a very strange thing indeed ! ' 
 
 It was afternoon when Tom returned to the 
 cottacre. FindintT, no little to his relief, that his 
 mother was out, he hurried up to his room, shut 
 and locked the door, and drew out his mysterious 
 packet. As he sat with it before him his heart 
 beat more quickly than usual, for he felt like 
 one called upon to converse with spirits and to 
 enter into the secret counsels of the dead. 
 
 Then, his excitement increasing as he pro- 
 ceeded, he began to break one by one the seals 
 wdth which it was closed. At the last seal he 
 paused, and cast a rapid glance round the room, 
 whispering half aloud : ' Is anyone there ? ' 
 There was no answer, and his glance, which had 
 been merely mechanical, for he knew no one had 
 come into the room with him, strayed to the 
 window. ' I am dreaming as I did last night,' 
 he said to himself bitterly. ' If this sort of tiling 
 goes on I shall be a perfect visionary soon, lit 
 for nothing but a lunatic asylum. Ah ! ' he 
 interrupted himself, ' what is that ? ' 
 
 At the word he leapt up, crossed the room 
 in one bound, threw the Venetian shutters open, 
 and looked out. There was no one — absolutely 
 no one — not a human being within sight or
 
 A MYSTERIOUS LEGACY 79 
 
 souiul. The Sleeping Beauty's palace could 
 scarcely have been more still than this green 
 garden world, as it lay basking in the light of 
 the golden afternoon. 
 
 Calling himself by a variety of contemptuous 
 names, Tom strode back to his seat. There 
 should be no moj-e of this foohsh nonsense, lie 
 said, and he broke the last seal. The wrapper 
 at once fell open, revealing a little pile of papers, 
 which appeared to be covered with minute 
 handwriting. Tom's heart was by this time 
 beating like a sledge-hammer. What was lie 
 croino^ to hear ? What was he f^oin^ to see ? 
 He took up the first paper and examined it 
 closely ; but how great was his disappointment 
 when he found that he could not make out a 
 word of it ! He passed rapidly to the next. It 
 was as unintelhgible. Two — three — four he 
 unfolded ; the result was the same. To his eye, 
 unpractised in Oriental writings, one was exactly 
 like the other. This, he said to himself bitterly, 
 was like offering a man bread and giving him a 
 stone. At last, when he had gone through 
 nearly the whole of the pile of papers, he came 
 to one different in appearance from any of the 
 others. It was smaller in size, but thicker, and 
 the leaves were summed together at the edo-es. 
 He was about to open it when he saw that there
 
 80 THE rajah's heir 
 
 was an inscription on the outside, written in 
 characters exceedingly minute, but not Orientah 
 He held it up to the light and read as follows : 
 ' Unless you are capable of forming a firm reso- 
 lution, go no further ! ' 
 
 While he was wondering what this might 
 mean he turned the roll over, and saw that 
 words were written on the other side also. 
 These were still stranger : ' If you are brave and 
 resolute, open without fear.' 
 
 He paused to think. It was so silent in the 
 room that he could hear the beating of his own 
 heart. He was asking himself if lie had the 
 qualities required by his mysterious benefactor, 
 and wondering what could be the nature of the 
 secret which must be approached in so resolute 
 a spirit. Weird stories of dim antiquity — of 
 beautiful things grasped at by eager hands and 
 won, but won through strife, and blood, and 
 tears — floated through his brain as he sat hesi- 
 tating, the unopened roll before him. Suddenly 
 he found himself speaking, uttering the thought 
 that was passing through his mind. ' I think I 
 could act with resolution if the necessity arose. 
 I am not all I should be ; of that I am well aware ; 
 but ' 
 
 And here he broke short, for the impression 
 he had combated a few moments before had
 
 A MYSTERIOUS LEGACl' 81 
 
 come to him again, and this time with a force 
 that there was no denying. For an instant he 
 sprang up wildly. Then, feelin.»' dazed and 
 helpless, he sank back, covering his face with 
 his hands. 
 
 In the next moment a clear, low voice was 
 sounding through the room. ' You mistake. 
 It is not a question of worthiness, or even of 
 ability. The qualities we want are four : 
 humility and honesty — and these you have 
 proved that you possess ; courage, which you do 
 not deny yourself ; and an obedient mind, which 
 you may possibly have to learn. Open the 
 paper and learn its secrets ! ' 
 
 ' Who are you that presume to command 
 me ? ' said Tom tremulously. 
 
 'That I may not tell you. I have been near 
 you all your life, but never so near as now, 
 when the Holy Ones have permitted me to be 
 the bearer of their message. The good that is 
 given, they say, must be expended in good.' 
 
 ' Do you doubt that I feel it P ' cried Tom. 
 
 ' It is because I do not that I encourage you 
 to open the paper.' 
 
 ' But why ' 
 
 'I can tell you nothing. The past has 
 gone from me. You must learn, moreover, as 
 it is given to you to learn, not altogether, but 
 
 VOL, 1. G
 
 S2 THE EAJAH's heir 
 
 little by little, and learning first an obedient 
 mind.' 
 
 ' To whom is my obedience to be given ? ' 
 
 ' That will be shown to you. First steps 
 must ever be taken with faith. Have couras^e I ' 
 
 'It is not cowardice that makes me hesi- 
 tate.' 
 
 ' You are right. It is honesty. Then take 
 time. To-night you will decide.' 
 
 At this moment, when all Tom's nerves were 
 tingling, there broke upon his ears sounds so 
 familiar that in an instant they put to flight the 
 weird impressions under which he had been 
 labouring. ' Tom ; I say, Tom! The dear boy is 
 asleep or he would answer. I will go and see.' 
 It was his mother's cheerful voice that rang up 
 the stairway. In another moment her hand 
 was on the door. ' Why, it is locked ! ' she 
 cried. ' Are you asleep, dear ? Let me in ! ' 
 And she gave a series of impatient taps. 
 
 ' In one moment,' said Tom. 
 
 He gathered up the heap of papers, threw 
 them into his writing-drawer, looked searchingly 
 round the room, and then, whispering under his 
 breath, ' Until to-night ! ' opened the door to 
 admit his mother.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 WHAT THE MOON AND RIVER SAID 
 
 ' Were you asleep, dear ? ' said Mrs. Gregory 
 gently. 
 
 As she spoke slie cast her eye timidly round 
 the room. It_fell on the writing-drawer, which 
 Tom had not been able to shut on account of 
 the quantity of papers. ' You have been busy ? ' 
 she said with a vague smile. 
 
 ' My business will keep,' he answered. ' Only 
 some papers, mother — about the property, I 
 suppose. Mr. Cherry gave them to me this 
 morning. They were with the will — addressed 
 to me.' 
 
 ' How strange ! And you have read them ? ' 
 
 'Not yet. They seem rather elaborate. I 
 expect they will take time.' 
 
 Mrs. Gregory brightened. ' Then they must 
 keep,' she said cheerfully, 'for I want you. 
 Lady Winter and her son are in the drawing- 
 room. They have come on purpose to con- 
 gratulate you, and I should like you to see 
 them.' 
 
 G 2
 
 84 THE rajah's heir 
 
 ' Very well, mother. Just let me make my- 
 self tidy first.' 
 
 ' All right, dear, and I will entertain them. 
 You know,' she lingered, looking at him wist- 
 fully, ' Lady Winter has always been so nice to 
 me ; and Sir Eeginald knows everyone. He 
 could help you on in society. You will make 
 yourself pleasant to them — for my sake ? ' 
 
 ' My dear mother,' said the boy, turning his 
 strained-looking eyes upon her, ' I will do my 
 best. No one can do any more.' 
 
 With a little sigh she left him and returned 
 to her visitors. 
 
 Society has some curious arrangements. It 
 reverses, as a general rule, the Scriptural order. 
 Those who honour themselves it delights to set 
 on high in its banquets, while the humble are 
 allowed to fill perpetually the low seats that 
 they have chosen. Lady Winter honoured her- 
 self, and her honour was accepted as the true 
 estimate of her worth. She seldom paid calls. 
 She received them. Her parties were general, 
 for if anyone who could by any possibility be 
 said to belong to society had been shut out 
 there would have been painful heart-burnings, 
 and her neighbours, many of whom were far 
 richer than herself, were flattered when she 
 accepted little services, such as the use of their
 
 WHAT THE MOON AND KIVER SAID 85 
 
 carriages, and presents of flowers and fruit, game 
 and vegetables. Besides preserving this com- 
 fortable worship she could do three things well. 
 She could dress so as to hide the ravages of 
 time ; she could manage a small income with 
 grace and success ; and she could say pretty 
 things with an abandon that marvellously en- 
 hanced their charm. She had in consequence 
 many friends. Amongst these Mrs. Gregory, as 
 she was telhng her to-day, had always taken a 
 high place. Some people might have thought 
 that the change in their fortunes had quickened 
 the flame of friendship. Mrs. Gregory did not. 
 She was a simple woman, and Lady Winter, 
 as she had told her son, had always been very 
 nice to her. 
 
 But her face flushed a little at the kind 
 words. 
 
 ' And to think that you are rich ! ' said Lady 
 Winter. 
 
 ' It isn't me,' said Mrs. Gregory. ' It is 
 my boy.' 
 
 ' But it is the same thing, of course. An 
 only boy — and one so devoted. Ah ! you may 
 smile. We all know. I only wish my Eeginald 
 were half as nice to me ! W^ell, as you know, 
 I don't think much of riches myself. I had 
 them once. Sir Thomas was a millionaire when
 
 86 THE rajah's heir 
 
 we married — supposed to be one at least. Poor 
 man! he thought nothing good enough for me 
 — nothing ! I tried to protest. It was of no 
 use. If I didn't accept the lovely things he gave 
 me it made him miserable. The riches took 
 flight, and, curiously enough, I am as happy. 
 A few years and it will not make much differ- 
 ence whether we have been rich or poor. We all 
 stand on the same ground at last. But,' as the 
 door opened, ' here is your son. My dear boy,' 
 holding out an exquisitely gloved hand, ' allow 
 your mother's old friend to congratulate you on 
 your good fortune. I know someone^' with a 
 flatterincr smile, ' who will be enchanted to hear 
 it. But I think I shall keep her out of the way 
 a little while.' 
 
 ' Good fortune, indeed I ' The voice came 
 from the depths of a low lounging-chair, in 
 which a long-limbed, handsome youth was 
 reclining. This was Sir Eeginald Winter. He 
 rose languidly, and went forward to meet Tom. 
 ' When my mother has done,' he said with his 
 sleepy smile, ' perhaps I may be allowed to 
 shake hands with you. Many happy returns of 
 the day ! Isn't that the proper form? By Jove, 
 though,' laughing, 'if you had more than one, 
 there wouldn't be room for anyone else. I hear 
 you are a milhonaire.'
 
 WHAT THE MOOX AXD EIVER SAID 87 
 
 ' I think he scarcely knows how he stands,' 
 said Mrs. Gregory nervously. 
 
 ' Of course not,' said Lady Winter. ' I be- 
 lieve you only heard of it yourselves last night. 
 Some of the Eltons told iis. Charming people 
 the Eltons ! I am positively in love with 
 those dear girls. But such gossips. Ah ! ' lift- 
 ing up her grey-gloved hands, ' how they can 
 talk ! If I had secrets I had rather confide 
 them to the town-crier than to that amiable 
 family.' 
 
 ' But this is no secret,' said Mrs. Gregory, 
 tlie colour mounting to her face. 
 
 ' Tom's good fortune ! Oh dear no ; why 
 should it be ? I only wished to explain how it 
 was that we knew so early. You know,' in a 
 low voice, 'I couldn't help being a httle excited. 
 We are both mothers — both left alone early. I 
 have so often sympathised with you in your 
 anxieties ' 
 
 ' I know — I know,' answered Mrs. Gregory 
 affectionately. ' And I can't tell you how plea- 
 sant your sympathy is to me. We have so 
 many kind friends here. Their interest and 
 affection have touched me deeply.' She cast an 
 appealing glance at Tom, who looked painfully 
 wooden and irresponsive. ' I am sure my son 
 feels with me,' she added.
 
 88 THE kajah's heir 
 
 This seemed to arouseTom, for he murmured 
 something indefinite about being much obhged. 
 
 ' Never mind,' whispered Lady Winter to 
 Mrs. Gregory. ' Young men are all alike. They 
 don't care for congratulations. Eeginald was 
 just the same. When my poor old aunt died 
 the other day, you know, and left him that little 
 bit of money, and people told me how glad they 
 were, he behaved quite naughtily. " Eeally," 
 he said at last, " I wish she hadn't ; I'm sick of 
 hearing of it.'" 
 
 ' Then I think he was verv uncrrateful,' said 
 Mrs. Gregory severely. ' A pretty sort of place 
 the world would be if we had no one to rejoice 
 and grieve with us ! ' 
 
 ' That is the woman's view, my dear friend. 
 But men, you know ' 
 
 ' Men I ' echoed Mrs. Gregory scornfully. 
 ' Boys ! ' 
 
 ' Oh come ! my friend Tom is not quite a 
 boy,' said Lady Winter, with a smile of exqui- 
 site graciousness towards that irresponsive 
 person. 
 
 ' Well done, mother. I shall treasure that 
 up,' laughed Sir Eeginald. ' I am called a boy 
 often enough, Mrs. Gregory, and I am ages 
 older than Tom. I say, Gregory, what do you 
 say to a stroll and a weed? A fellow is taking
 
 WHAT THE MOON' AXD RIVER SAID 89 
 
 my new outrigger up and down. I should like 
 YOU to see it.' 
 
 ' Take Sir Eeginald to the summer-house. 
 Tom,' said Mrs. Gregory; 'it has such a cheer- 
 ful look-out. And bring him back to tea. Yes, 
 Lady Winter, you must stay, both of you. The 
 boys will like to have their chat out quietly, and 
 Lady Elton and two of the dear girls are coming 
 in presently.' 
 
 ' But we shall be too man}^ for you.' 
 
 ' Xot at all. I must tell you,' whispered 
 Mrs. Gregory as Tom went off with Sir Eeginald, 
 ' that I had in additional help to-day. Such a 
 smart little servant ; a capital cook, and knows 
 how to wait at table. She was five years in her 
 last place, and has such a character ! It seemed 
 almost a Providence, if it isn't irreverent to say 
 so. It was my dear boy ' — she looked out wich 
 dewy eyes to where she could see her son's tall 
 slender figure on the sunlit lawn. ' He says I 
 have slaved for him long enough, and now I 
 shall have everything done for me. No one 
 would believe what a heart that boy has. Posi- 
 tively, I am afraid of what he may think of doing 
 now he is rich.' 
 
 ' It is very nice to see young people hke 
 that,' said Lady Winter pleasantly. ' Eeginald 
 is wonderfuUv soft-hearted too. But I have
 
 90 THE rajah's heir 
 
 tried to bring him up reasonably, and I do be- 
 lieve he has no crazes. Seriously, I don't think 
 your boy could have a more suitable friend just 
 now. You see Regy has sown his wild oats. I 
 am bound to confess that the crop was innocent 
 enough, but it cost me something. Now he is 
 as steady as old Time.' 
 
 ' I am very glad that the two boys should be 
 together,' said Mrs. Gregory simply. 
 
 Here, to the annoyance of Lady Winter, who 
 had more to sa}' about Tom, Lady Elton and two 
 of her girls, Maud and Trixy, were shown in. 
 
 Lady Elton had been feeling a little nervous 
 all the morning, wondering what she should say ; 
 but the moment she saw Mrs. Gregory all her 
 nervousness fled. Her sweet face flushed a rosy 
 red, as she went forward impulsively, holding 
 out her two hands. ' Dear friend ! ' she said, 
 ' we are so glad — so very glad — to hear of your 
 good fortune.' 
 
 ' I knew you would be,' said Mrs. Gregory, 
 and, forgetting the dignity of their respective 
 positions — a General's wife and a millionaire's 
 mother — they kissed each other again and again, 
 like two schoolgirls. 
 
 Maud meanwhile stood aside, and waited 
 her turn. She was a handsome girl of the ag- 
 gressive type. No one would pass her over in a
 
 WHAT THE MOOX AXD RIVER SAID 1)1 
 
 cro^vd. She had flashing brown eyes, a profusion 
 of silky brown hair, which she wore, after tlie 
 fashion of the time, in a sparlding beaded net, 
 regular features, and a determined mouth and 
 chin. 
 
 Maud was never nervous. She considered 
 herself equal to every conceivable emergency. 
 When Mrs. Gregory turned to address her she 
 had lier little speech ready. ' We were de- 
 lighted with father's good news last night,' she 
 said, smiling prettily, ' and we hope you and Tom 
 will be very happy.' 
 
 ' '' We " includes me,' said Trixy. ' Maud 
 speaks so well, you know. We always let her 
 speak for us. But I really am tremendously glad.' 
 
 ' Thank you, dears,' said Mrs. Gregory. ' I 
 love to i'eel that you are glad. We are so hke 
 one family that I feel as if it ought to be good 
 news to you all. And now,' looking towards Lady 
 Winter, ' what do you all say ? Shall we sit out 
 on the lawn until tea ? It is just pleasant now.' 
 
 ' If you ask me, I should like nothing better,' 
 said Lady Winter, rising gracefully. 
 
 ' But where is he — Tom, I mean ? ' said Lady 
 Elton, as they went out. ' I heard he had come 
 back from town.' 
 
 ' Eeginald has carried him off for a smoke 
 and a chat,' said Lady Winter. ' I expect they
 
 92 THE eajah's heir 
 
 will join us presently. But young men will have 
 their quiet hour in the evening.' 
 
 'I see them I' cried Trixy. 'They are just 
 outside the summer-house. I'll run and tell 
 Tom you are here, mother.' 
 
 ' Xo, no ! ' and ' Wouldn't it be rather a 
 pity ? ' came snnultaneously from Lady Elton 
 and Lady Winter. But Trixy did not hear 
 them. She knew instinctively that her friend 
 Tom wanted deliverance, and she was off across 
 the garden with the speed of a lapwing. 
 
 So far the conversation had been rather a 
 one-sided business. Sir Eeginald had talked. 
 He was giving information. Tom had hstened. 
 He had heard of magnificent chambers in town 
 going for a song ; of shootings and. fishings to be 
 had for very httle more than the asking ; of 
 horses perfect in wind and linib, concerning 
 whose purchase Sir Eeginald would be glad to 
 interest himself ; of cellars of priceless wines 
 waiting for a buyer ; of furniture, china, pic- 
 tures, bric-a-brac to be had at phenomenally low 
 prices — of a world, in fact, that was offering itself 
 for purchase. The curious thing was that none 
 of these interesting pieces of intelligence seemed 
 to move him. He sat, as Sir Eeginald said after- 
 wards, hke a wooden image, gazing at nothing.
 
 WHAT THE MOON AXD EIVER SAID 93 
 
 He would not even take the excellent cigar lie 
 was offered. Then, just as his companion hoped 
 he was becoming a little interested, the wild 
 little Elton girl ruslied down upon them, and his 
 opportunity was at an end. 
 
 Tom showed plenty of animation to Trixy ; 
 and when he heard that Lady Elton had come 
 over to the cottage with her, he said he Avould 
 go back to the upper lawn and see her. ' What 
 w^ll you do, Winter? ' he said. 
 
 ' Oh, thanks. Don't mind me. I'll finish 
 my cigar out here, and join the rest of you later,' 
 said Sir Eeginald. 
 
 The rest of the evening passed pleasantly by. 
 Tea, which was a composite meal such as women 
 love, proved a complete success. Nothing could 
 have been prettier, Lady Winter said graciously. 
 
 After tea Tom devoted himself to Lady Elton, 
 Sir Eeginald made Maud happy by talking down 
 to her sleepily, Lady Winter chatted amiably 
 to Mrs. Gregory, and Trixy teased everyone in 
 turn. 
 
 Presently came some music — the drawing- 
 room music of that period, which was before the 
 days of amateur artists. Maud, thinking of hand- 
 some, lancruid Sir Ees^inald, warbled a sentimental 
 love ditty ; Mrs. Gregory was induced to play an 
 old-fashioned fantasia; and Trixy rattled her last
 
 94 THE eajah's heir 
 
 piano piece, making her mother hot and cold by 
 turns as she stumbled over the difficult pas- 
 sages. 
 
 The Winters left early. She was enjoying 
 herself so much, Lady Winter said, that she 
 could stay all night ; but she was bound not to 
 keep late hours. She was going to have some 
 visitors — one in particular, whom she believed 
 they would like to meet, and she mentioned an 
 early day for tea at their house, begging Lady 
 Elton to come too, and to bring Maud and dear 
 little Trixy w^ith her. 
 
 To her son she said as they walked home : 
 ' A little of that kind of thing goes a long way. I 
 wonder if those dear good people will ever learn 
 to be rich ? ' 
 
 ' Tom won't. He is a regular muff,' said Sir 
 Resjinald. ' I shall take no more trouble about 
 him.' 
 
 ' Oh ! but you will, dear,' said his mother 
 sweetly. ' For Mrs. Gregory's sake. She is such 
 a dear good soul ! Xot quite — well, you know 
 wliat I mean ; but very nice — ' and she added 
 after a pause, for her son had not thought it 
 necessary to answer this appeal, ' I have written 
 to Vivien. I rather think she will be with us 
 to-morrow.' 
 
 ' I must say, mother,' said Sir Reginald, ' that
 
 WHAT THE MOOX AND RIVER SAID 9-3 
 
 3^011 don't allow the grass to grow under your 
 feet. I shall be surprised if even Vivien, clever 
 as she is, gets anything out of that moonstruck 
 youth.' 
 
 ' Well, we shall see,' said Lady Winter. 
 
 In the cottage the departure of the Winters 
 brought a certain sense of relief, more especially 
 to two of the party, Tom and Lady Elton. 
 
 There was a strong sympathy between these 
 two. Sometimes, indeed, it made Tom's mother 
 jealous to see her son hang about her old friend 
 as he was doing to-night. After she had watched 
 them for some time wistfully, she said, her voice 
 quivering : 
 
 ' Haven't you appropriated Lady Elton ]oncr 
 enough, Tom ? Come over here and entertain 
 Maud and Trixy, and let me have her for a few 
 moments.' 
 
 ' I am afraid I am not in an amusing mood,' 
 said Tom, rising with reluctance. 
 
 ' When you are next in an amusing mood 
 perhaps you will let us know,' said Trixy saucily. 
 
 ' Those are things people ought to find out 
 for themselves,' he said, taking a seat beside her. 
 
 'How can they,' said the child, ' if there are 
 no indications ?' 
 
 ' Which means that you have always found 
 me dull.'
 
 96 THE RAJAHS HEIR 
 
 ' No, no, no. But I can't say you are ever 
 very funny.' 
 
 'You see, Trixy, you give no one a chance.' 
 
 ' Bravo, Tom ! not bad for a beginner,' cried 
 Trixy, clapping her hands. ' Maud ' — to her 
 elder sister — ' how ridiculously grave you look ! ' 
 
 'I see nothing to laugh at,' said Maud, where- 
 upon the incorrigible child folded her hands and 
 looked down her nose demurely. The copy of 
 Maud's expression and attitude was so good that 
 Tom could not help laughing. 
 
 ' Stop a little longer ; the young people are 
 just beginning to enjoy themselves,' said Mrs. 
 Gregory to Lady Elton. 
 
 ' Thank you very much, but I am afraid we 
 must really go,' she answered. ' The General 
 will surely be at home by this. He took Grace 
 up the river this afternoon.' 
 
 ' And he wouldn't take anyone else,' said 
 Trixy, who was still smarting under her griev- 
 ance. 'I am sure they were going to talk secrets. 
 Good-bye, Tom.' 
 
 ' I mean to take you home as usual, Trixy.' 
 
 ' Pray don't,' said Maud icily. ' It's only a 
 
 step.' 
 
 A peal of laughter from Trixy greeted her 
 
 speech 
 
 'Maud,' she cried, 'you are too funny for
 
 WHAT THE MOON AXD RIVER SAID 97 
 
 anything. You will freeze us up to nothing. I 
 feel the process beginning. Don't you, Tom ? ' 
 
 'Trixy, you wild little creature, do you mean 
 to stay all night ? ' said Lady Elton, who was 
 waiting hooded and cloaked in the verandah. 
 
 ' No, mother, here I am,' said Trixy, ' and 
 Maud is following me. Maud can't walk very 
 quickly, you know. Good-night, dearest, sweetest 
 Mrs. Gregory. Tom ' 
 
 ' Tom will go with you, of course,' said Mrs. 
 Gregory. ' Good-night, dears. Come and see 
 me again soon. Yes, the night air is a little chilly, 
 so I will shut the door. You may say good-night 
 to me too, Tom. I am tired, and I think I shall 
 go to my room at once.' 
 
 The door of the cottage shut, and all but 
 Mrs. Gregory went out into the throbbing silence 
 of the summer night. Its enchantment made 
 even wild little Trixy quiet for a few moments. 
 As she looked up and saw the little moon, half 
 entangled in a web of rainbow-tinted clouds, 
 floating like a spirit in the dark spaces of tlie 
 starht sky, she said in a stifled whisper that 
 she didn't in the least wonder that looking at 
 the moon made people feel sentimental. In the 
 next instant, however, sentiment was put to 
 flight. 
 
 A cheerful, sonorous voice, which they all 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE rajah's heir 
 
 knew, came ringing across the lawn, while from 
 under the shadows of the witch-elms a little band 
 of figures appeared. The General, and Grace, 
 and Lucy, and ]\Iildred had come out in search of 
 them. 
 
 ' Good evening, Tom ; good evening, every- 
 body,' said the General. 'We began to think 
 you meant to keep my lady altogether, so we 
 came out in a body to fetch her back.' 
 
 ' It was unnecessary. I was taking the 
 greatest care of her,' said Tom ; ' but I am glad 
 to see you all the same. General.' 
 
 ' Thank you, my boy, thank you,' said the 
 General cheerfully. ' Well, good-night to you ! ' 
 And then he tucked his wife's hand under his 
 arm — he was her true lover still, as he would be 
 to the end of his days — whistled up the girls as 
 if, stately Maud was saying to herself discon- 
 ocntedly, they were a pack of harriers, and 
 started ofi* at a quick pace for their own gate. 
 
 Tom fell behind with Grace. He did not 
 know exactly how he had managed it, or whether 
 any management at all had been required ; but 
 so it was that when they came out into the moon- 
 lit road, he and Grace were together. He looked 
 down upon her with a beating heart. Words 
 came thronging to his hps, but he could not
 
 WHAT THE MOOX AND RIVER SAID 99 
 
 speak them. She seemed to have moved further 
 away from him than ever. This white hght of 
 moon and stars in which she walked was, to his 
 excited fancy, like the mystic world that was 
 her home, and she in her light garments, her 
 pale gold hair all ruffled by the breeze, making 
 an aureole like a saint's halo round her beautiful 
 face, was as lovely, and alas ! as unapproachable 
 as a vision. Silently they go along the interval 
 of road that separated Mrs. Gregory's grounds 
 from those of General Elton. And now they 
 are in the little dark shrubbery behind the lawn 
 and rose garden. 
 
 Here Tom, who has been sighing like a fur- 
 nace, pulls up in desperation, for he feels that 
 his opportunity is slipping away from him. 
 
 ' Are you tired ? ' he says in a shaken voice. 
 ' Oh, no ! ' answers Grace, only a little more 
 firmly. ' I am not at all tired.' 
 
 ' Then won't you come down to the river for 
 a few moments ? ' he says pleadingly. * It looks 
 so pretty in this light.' 
 
 His heart is thumping against his ribs, and 
 there is a singing in his ears which nearly deafens 
 him. He hears indeed so imperfectly that he is 
 on the point of apologising humbly for having 
 made a preposterous suggestion when he realises 
 that Grace has fallen in with it, that she is, in 
 
 H 2
 
 100 THE EAJAH's heir 
 
 fact, leading him to a little tangled path through 
 the shrubbery that leads straight to the lower 
 lawn. ' Mind how you go ! ' says the sweet 
 voice. ' It is dark here, and the branches are 
 low. To the right ; now to the left. Trixy 
 calls tliis the maze.' 
 
 In a few moments they emerge from the 
 shrubbery, cross an interval of lawn, and stand 
 on the bank above the river, at the very spot 
 where Tom saw his vision of the nio'ht before. 
 
 ' Isn't it lovely ? ' says Grace, in a low voice. 
 ' Come here, under the willows, where the 
 shadows are deep, and look down ! ' 
 
 ' How dark and silent it is ! ' says Tom. 
 
 ' Silent, but never still. I don't know how it 
 is,' says Grace, with a little sigh, ' but flowing 
 water always makes me feel tired.' 
 
 ' It is the constant movement. I have felt 
 that too. But sit down, darling. Don't look at 
 it ' 
 
 She interrupts him a little impatiently. ' No ; 
 you don't understand. It is not that weariness ; 
 it is of the mind. I think of life ; how it is going 
 on, always, always. No rest, not for a single 
 moment ; dying, being born, loving, hating, 
 thinking, fighting, suffering, sinning. It is ter- 
 rible.' 
 
 ' But it is beautiful too, Grace.'
 
 WHAT THE MOON AXD EIVER SAID 101 
 
 ' It may be, or perhaps indifferent. To one 
 here and there ; one like the river that receives 
 but cannot give.' 
 
 ' What do you mean, Grace ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know that I quite know myself,' she 
 says, wearily. ' But look at the river. It is 
 very old, isn't it ? I imagine how, when it began 
 to flow, the big primeval world, with its forests 
 and monsters 5 was about it — ages upon ages — 
 and then came men and their inventions — huts 
 and houses, and castles, and palaces, and cities, 
 rising and falHng as the river flows on, the old, 
 old river. And sometimes I think of the dead 
 it has hidden, of the tragedies it has seen, of the 
 miseries it has stilled. And it is always the 
 same ; smiling in the sunlight, sleeping in the 
 shadow, making pictures of the trees and flowers 
 on its banks. Could one hope to hke that ? ' 
 
 'But we do not see what the river does, 
 Grace.' 
 
 ' Some of us do. We carry in our hearts the 
 passion and pain of the past. I had rather not, 
 much rather. Sometimes I feel as if it would 
 kill me, and then I long to be as this water is, 
 smiling and insensible. But when they have 
 touched you once,' says the girl, her voice vi- 
 brating strangely, ' you know that you can never 
 be as you have been ; never, never ! ' She turns
 
 102 THE rajah's heir 
 
 her back to the river. ' Come back to the 
 house,' she says abruptly. ' I hear my sisters 
 laughing.' 
 
 ' Must you go ? Will you not give me two 
 or three moments ? I have so much to say to 
 you. So much ' (smiling a little piteously) ' that 
 I scarcely know where to begin. Grace, dearest, 
 my life is flowing on like the water in the river, 
 and this little hand of yours can turn it whatever 
 way it pleases.' 
 
 ' Hush, hush ! ' says Grace. ' You must not 
 say such things.' 
 
 ' I must, for it is true. Grace ! Grace ! I 
 love you.' He pauses. The light of the moon 
 is veiled by clouds, so that he cannot see her 
 face ; but she is silent, and silence sometimes 
 means more than speech. ' I am not worthy of 
 you ' — his words leap out fervently — ' so un- 
 worthy that it is little short of madness to imagine 
 you might care for me. But I love you. I 
 know' — with a catching back of the breath — 
 ' there is nothing strange in that. Everyone 
 who has seen you must love you. But I think 
 — I think — no one will ever love you as I do. 
 My heart, my soul, my life ; everything I have 
 and am are yours, if you will only take them.' 
 
 And here suddenly he stops, the eloquent 
 words frozen on his lips. Grace has covered her
 
 WHAT THE MOON AND RIVER SAID 103 
 
 face with her hands. ' 'Wliat is it ? ' he whispers 
 very low. He would draw one of those httle 
 hands down and cover it with kisses ; but he 
 dares not. In the next instant he is trembhng. 
 She has hfted her sad eyes ; she is looking at 
 him, looking at him — oh, God ! — with the very 
 eyes of his vision. 
 
 'I wish you had told me this before,' she 
 says, brokenly. ' Is it only now you know that 
 you love me ? ' 
 
 ' No, no. I have known it always, the first 
 moment I saw you. But why, in the name of 
 heaven, do you ask me such a question ? ' 
 
 'It was a foolish question' — she is trying 
 hard to speak calmly. ' Forget it.' 
 
 ' I cannot, Grace ; for pity's sake tell me ! ' 
 
 ' Because, dear Tom — I will call you so this 
 once — then it might have been ; now it cannot.' 
 
 'You might have accepted my love, oh, 
 Grace ! ' — he tries to seize her hands, but she 
 will not give them. 
 
 ' Not now, not now,' she says. ' It is too 
 late.' 
 
 ' But how can it be ? ' cries the poor fellow 
 wildly. ' Grace, you are torturing me. Two 
 days ago — such a short time — we seemed to un- 
 derstand one another quite well. I would have 
 spoken then, but I had nothing to ofier you. It
 
 104 THE rajah's heir 
 
 was for your sake, darling, because I could not — 
 dared not — run the risk of dragging you into 
 poverty. My circumstances have changed, no- 
 thing else. And, dear, if you object to being 
 rich, there is no need for us to spend our wealth 
 as rich people generally do. For all I know I 
 may be only steward of my inheritance. To-night 
 when I leave you I am to read the papers which 
 I beheve will give me the real wish of him who 
 left it to me. Grace, I shall go to them with 
 such hope, such heart, such courage, if I take 
 your promise with me. Answer me, my darling, 
 may I beheve, may I hope, that whatever I may 
 be called upon to do may be done, not by me 
 alone, but by you and me together ? ' 
 
 That question has never been answered. 
 
 Grace had turned away from him. Suddenly 
 she cries out and grasps his arm convulsively. 
 ' Look ! look ! What is that ? ' 
 
 For an instant horror holds him spellbound. 
 In the next he is rushing headlong across the 
 garden, crying out ' Fire ! Fire ! '
 
 105 
 
 CHAPTER Yl 
 
 AN IKREPAKABLE LOSS 
 
 The Gregorys' cottage was on fire. While 
 Grace ran back to the house calhng her father, 
 Tom leapt over the fence, ran along the road, 
 and tore into their garden, where, to his great 
 relief, he at once saw his mother and the two 
 servants. The girls were weeping and wring- 
 ing their hands. Mrs. Gregory looked dazed. 
 ' Thank God that you are all right !' cried Tom, 
 as he swept past her towards the burning 
 house. 
 
 'Come back ! ' cried his mother. 'I beg you. 
 I command you ! ' But Tom had already gone. 
 
 The General joined her. ' All right so far ! ' 
 he said. ' The fire is all on one side. We may 
 save the cottage yet. How did it happen ? ' 
 turning to the shrinking maids. 
 
 ' I was going to bed,' sobbed one. 
 
 ' But if I hadn't been up,' said the other, 
 goodness knows what mightn't have happened! 
 It was like this here, sir '
 
 106 THE rajah's heir 
 
 ' Go to the General's, both of you,' inter- 
 rupted Mrs. Gregoiy impatiently. ' General, I 
 am to blame, and only I. I put down a lighted 
 candle on the window-sill in the hall and forgot 
 it. The curtains caught.' 
 
 ' Just so. Those new-fancrled decorations 
 are like tinder. I've said so again and again,' 
 said the General, grimly triumphant. ' It's a 
 good thing you got out safely. Here are Grace 
 and my wife. Xow take my advice and go 
 quickly to our house with them. I'U look after 
 Tom.' 
 
 •• Come with us, dear Mrs. Gregory,' said 
 Grace. 
 
 ' The General will do all he can,' said Lady 
 Elton. 
 
 By this time the garden was alive. People 
 were hurrying up from every direction : water 
 was being poured over the roof of the cottage, 
 and aU sorts of things — from tables and chairs to 
 millinery — were being flung out of the windows- 
 ' I can't go in till I know that Tom is safe,' 
 cried Mrs. Gregory. 
 
 ' Why, here he is ! ' said the General, ' and 
 by Jove ! he looks as if he had seen a ghost ! ' 
 
 Tom carried a lantern, the light of which, 
 streaming upwards, showed his face as white as 
 death. He strode up to the little group, and,
 
 AN IRKKPARABLE LOSS 107 
 
 taking no notice of the ladies, seized the General 
 by the shoulder. ' Ivobbory has been doiu\' he 
 said hoarsely. 
 
 ' WhatP money! jewels! Lady Klton, for 
 God's sake take Mrs. Gregory away ! ' said the 
 General. ' Now/ as the three ladies movi\i 
 away slowly, 'don't rave; but tell n\e plainly 
 what has happened ! ' 
 
 ' My desk has been ransai'ked and pa[)ers 
 of incalculable value to nie have been taken 
 out.' 
 
 * Taken out ? You are sure of that ? ' 
 
 * I aui positive. I [)ut them away in my 
 escritoire. It has been forced open.' 
 
 * Anything besides pa[)ers gone H ' 
 
 * Nothing. 1 put a twenty-pound note there 
 — the price of my last design. It is there still' 
 
 'And these papers -what are they ?' 
 'I don't know. That is the cruel [)art oi' it. 
 They were given to me by Mr. Cherry as ex- 
 [)laining my iidieritance, and I was to have 
 looked over them to-night. Ihit we are wasting 
 time. Come back with me to the house and 
 watch the people tlu«re. I have a suspicion 
 that the papers were seized and the house lired 
 bj^the same hand.' 
 
 ' Impossible, Tom ! I know how the lire 
 arose.'
 
 108 THE KAJAH's heir 
 
 They had been hurrying back to the house ; 
 but, on hearing this, Tom pulled up. ' You 
 know ! ' he ejaculated. ' How can that be ? ' 
 
 ' My dear Doy, for heaven's sake don't be so 
 melodramatic,' said the General tartly. 'You 
 will be accusing me of stealing your papers next. 
 The fire broke out in the simplest way. Your 
 mother put down her candle on the window-sill 
 in the hall, and those mushn curtains of yours, 
 against which I have preached till I am tired, 
 caught fire. Now don't, like a good fellow, stare 
 at me so ! I am repeating your mother's own 
 words.' 
 
 ' Where is my mother ? ' asked Tom. 
 ' She is with Lady Elton, and there she shall 
 remain for the present. I refuse to permit you 
 to ask her a single question to-night.' 
 
 They were, by this time, in the midst of the 
 little crowd that surrounded the house. Water 
 was still playing over it ; but the flames were 
 dead. ' Pretty safe now ? ' said the General, 
 addressing one of the pohcemen. 
 
 ' Yes, sir ; and we saved a goodish lot of 
 things.' 
 
 ' So I see. Any strangers about ? ' 
 ' No, General ; not a single soul. I was 
 up here from the first. Do Mr. Gregory 
 think ?'
 
 AN IKKEPARABLE LOSS 109 
 
 ' Mr. Gregory has missed some valuable 
 papers.' 
 
 ' If they were on this side, General, 'taint 
 wonderful hke.' 
 
 ' They were on the other ' 
 
 ' We must see after it to-morrow,' interrupted 
 Tom hastily ; and then, raising his voice : 'I am 
 much obliged to you all for helping me to-night, 
 and to-morrow, if you come to me, I will reward 
 you for your trouble. I beheve there is nothing 
 more to be done now.' 
 
 ' Two of the police had better stay on the 
 premises. There are all sorts of things lying 
 about,' said the General. ' You, Tom, will come 
 back with me.' 
 
 ' I am much obhged to you. General ; but I 
 think I had rather not. My own room is per- 
 fectly safe, I beheve.' 
 
 ' But the furniture is out, isn't it? ' 
 
 ' No ; there was nothing of value but the 
 papers ; and, for reasons of my own, I had it 
 left as it was. Good-night, General.' 
 
 So at last Tom was alone. He had given up 
 his lantern to the policeman ; but he would not 
 strike a light. He sat on the side of his bed, 
 listening while the sounds of the many footsteps 
 died away, and gazing out into the darkness,
 
 110 THE rajah's heir 
 
 which was strangely empty to him. At last, 
 being utterly worn out, he flung himself down 
 on the bed and slept. He awoke early. Of 
 course his first thought was the papers, to the 
 loss of which he could not reconcile himself 
 tamely. Thinking it just possible that he might 
 have been mistaken in supposing he had left 
 them in his writing-drawer, he turned the room 
 upside down in search of them. It was all to 
 no purpose. After a few wild moments of alter- 
 nating hope and despair, he made up his mind 
 that they would not be found in the house. 
 
 He dressed and went down into the garden, 
 which was choked up with debris from the 
 gutted rooms. His mother's servants, under 
 whose directions some of the furniture was being 
 carried in, were there already. He questioned 
 them closely about the night before, wishing 
 particularly to know if any stranger had been 
 hanging about during the afternoon or evening. 
 But they could give him no satisfaction. 
 
 He went on into the Eltons' garden. Early 
 as it was, the General was out. Dressed in 
 morning deshabille he was sitting on the lawn, 
 taking the early cup of tea which strengthened 
 him for his work amongst his plants, while 
 Yaseen Khan, his Indian servant, stood behind 
 him, holding up a white umbrella.
 
 AN IRKEPAEABLE LOSS 111 
 
 The General welcomed Tom warmly. *Good 
 morning, my dear boy! ' he said. ' Got over last 
 night's shock, I hope. Sit down! Yaseen Khan, 
 another cup. Yes, I insist. 'No sedative like 
 tea.' 
 
 ' Can I see my mother ? ' said Tom. 
 
 ' Not yet, I am sure. She was very much 
 excited last night, and seems to have had diffi- 
 culty in resting. The last I heard was that she 
 was asleep and not to be disturbed. You may 
 as well take things quietly. Papers found ? ' 
 
 ' No, General.' 
 
 ' Dear ! dear ! And you say they are im- 
 portant ? ' 
 
 ' They are of the deepest, the most incalcu- 
 lable importance to me.' 
 
 ' You don't mean to say so ? I wonder Cherry 
 let them out of his hands.' 
 
 ' But they were mine — the legacy of the dead 
 man who has enriched me. I hoped to find his 
 wishes, his instructions.' 
 
 'In fact,' said the General with a bland 
 smile, ' they had no value except for you. Set 
 your mind at rest, then. They will certainly be 
 found. In the meantime here is your cup. 
 Cream ? Sugar ? Now then, Yaseen Khan — that 
 fellow is moving like a snail to-day. Don't stare, 
 you son of an owl, but bring up that small table.
 
 112 THE rajah's heir 
 
 Understand English ? Of course he does. See 
 him when Trixy -sahib speaks to him/ A smile 
 had overspread Yaseen Khan's passive counte- 
 nance, and he began to hop about briskly. * There ! 
 her very name is enough,' said the General. And 
 thereupon, beginning with Trixy, he talked about 
 his little girls, giving anecdotes illustrative of 
 their peculiar ways of meeting discipline, and of 
 his own wise and subtle methods of bringing 
 them to what he was pleased to call reason. 
 
 Grace came out while this tirade was in pro- 
 gress, and she caught the words : ' A firm hand, 
 Tom. That's the secret. Let them know you 
 mean what you say.' 
 
 ' Are you making Mr. Gregory believe that 
 you are a tyrant, dad ? ' she said, putting her 
 arms round his neck and kissing him first on 
 the forehead and then on the cheeks. ' Be- 
 cause ' 
 
 ' Now, pull up, young woman,' said the 
 General, winking mischievously at Tom, ' or I 
 shall say that you are showing off before our 
 young friend here.' 
 
 ' Father ! ' Grace was erect at once, with 
 blazing cheeks and eyes. 
 
 ' You see,' said the General, in high dehght. 
 ' That's how I do it.' 
 
 Grace lauo^hed and kissed him asain. ' You
 
 AN IRREPARABLE LOSS HS 
 
 are the dearest old goose in all the world, father,' 
 she said. ' How voii ever manage to make your 
 men obey you is a mystery to me. They are 
 afraid of him, Tom. Can you imagine it ? I 
 can't.' 
 
 'Another cup, Yaseen Khan!' said the 
 General. ' We must stop this girl somehow.' 
 
 ' Xot a cup for me, dear,' said Grace. ' I 
 came out with a message. Mother and I are 
 having tea with Mrs. Gregory. She heard Tom's 
 voice and she wants to see him.' 
 
 ' Thank you. I was very anxious to see her,' 
 said Tom, rising. 
 
 ' But mother says you must be sure to say 
 nothmg to excite Mrs. Gregory,' said Grace, as 
 they walked together towards the house. ' Her 
 nerves seem a httle unstrung by the shock.' 
 
 Tom promised to be careful, and he was 
 shown into a room where he found his mother 
 sitting up in bed, a fine Indian shawl of Lady 
 Elton's thrown round her shoulders. She did 
 not look ill — in fact, there was a brighter colour 
 than usual on her face, while the only sign of 
 the excitement of which Grace had spoken was 
 in her eyes, which shone curiously. 
 
 ' Why, mother,' said Tom, stooping to kiss 
 her. ' I d(m't believe you are any worse for the 
 shock.' 
 
 VOL. L I
 
 114: THE RAJAHS HEIR 
 
 ' No, I don't think I am,' she answered, look- 
 ino- at him fondly. ' It is such a rehef that we are 
 all safe. Did you hear that it was my fault ? ' 
 ' I heard that you thought it was, mother.' 
 ' But I should like to tell you how it really 
 came about,' she said a httle eagerly. ' I told 
 you I was going to my room. Well ! I lighted 
 my candle and was on my way across the hall 
 when I heard all the voices in the garden. I 
 wanted to see if Grace was there, and knew I 
 should know her by her hght dress, so I put 
 down the candle and went up to my room in 
 the dark. And then, dear, I don't quite know 
 what happened to me. I suppose I was dream- 
 'ncy about you, and dreaming of dear Grace too. 
 I must have fallen into a dream or trance, for I 
 certainly knew nothing until the servants came 
 rushing out with cries of " fire." At that mo- 
 ment I remembered the candle on the window- 
 sill, but, of course, too late. That's all. An 
 accident, and happily, as Lady Elton says, no 
 very serious consequences. Just imagine what 
 we would have felt if it had happened a week 
 ago.' 
 
 ' I wish it had,' said Tom, ' and then my papers 
 might not have gone.' 
 
 ' Papers ? ' echoed his mother, her voice 
 fluttering strangely. ' Are they burnt, Tom ? '
 
 AX IRREPARABLE LOSS 115 
 
 ' Speak of them another time,' said Lady 
 Elton. 
 
 'Eemember your promise,' whispered Grace. 
 
 The colour had leapt to Mrs. Gregory's face, 
 and her eyes, which glittered feverishly, were 
 fixed upon her son. 
 
 ' They can't have been taken away ! ' she 
 whispered. ' Who would ? Are you sure — are 
 you sure they were not burnt ? ' 
 
 ' Of course they were burnt,' said Tom, bend- 
 ing over her in great alarm. ' What else could 
 it be ? If you excite yourself like this, you will 
 be ill, mother,' 
 
 ' Oh, no ! ' she said. ' It is all right now.' 
 
 The excitement had died away as soon as it 
 had arisen. She fell back upon her pillows, pale 
 and smiling. Tom left the room relieved on her 
 account, but feeling more baffled than ever about 
 his papers. 
 
 i2
 
 1L6 THE kajah's heir 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE rajah's heir SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF 
 
 It is at this point that the troubles of the 
 writer of the above record began. For Thomas 
 Gregory — the Tom whom he had been following 
 through these curious vicissitudes of condition 
 and fortune — became suddenly dim to him. He 
 heard rumours indeed — the rumours which were 
 circulating in the neighbourhood at the time, 
 but these were, vague and contradictory. More- 
 over, they touched only the surface of Tom's 
 life. That he tried, or pretended to try, to find 
 the lost papers ; that he was unsuccessful ; that 
 he passed through a period of severe mental de- 
 pression ; that his mother, feeling alarmed at his 
 condition, tried her utmost to make him marry 
 and settle down ; that her wishes were frustrated, 
 some said by his wilfulness, others by the pride 
 and folly of the girl he loved, who, having been 
 twitted about her attentions to a wealthy man, 
 was piqued into holding Tom at arm's length ; and 
 that, at length, to his mother's great distress, he
 
 THE KAJAII'S ITEIR SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF 317 
 
 resolved to go out to India ; all this the writer has 
 heard from thovse who were living in Surbiton at 
 the time. There were rumours, too, of a spiritual- 
 istic visitations both to the boy and to the girl. 
 Those were before the days when spirits played 
 their pranks, for a monetary consideration, before 
 public audiences ; and some said it was in oh)edi- 
 ence to these bodiless voices that they kept apart. 
 
 But all this is mere guess-work. I know, 
 however, as a certain fact, having heard it on 
 no less authority than Lady Winter's, that Tom's 
 first care, after he came into his property, was 
 to surround his mother with all the comforts and 
 luxuries that money can give. A pretty house, 
 which became later one of the show places of the 
 neighbourhood, was built for her after his own 
 design ; and, in the meantime, she had carriages 
 and horses, and good dress and good living, with, 
 what was more to her than all her other luxuries 
 put together, the opportunity of doing boundless 
 kindnesses to her friends, and of exercising a 
 large and benignant charity. Had it not been 
 for her son's eccentricities, which were more 
 marked after he came into his inheritance than 
 they had been before, Mrs. Gregory, the world 
 says, would have l)een perfectly happy. 
 
 Lady Winter and her son, neither of whom 
 had the least taint of peculiarity, did their best
 
 118 THE rajah's heir 
 
 to bring round the young heir, so at least I have 
 heard, to more healthy views of life ; and Mr. 
 Cherry backed them up with his wise counsels ; 
 but Tom declined absolutely to do anything like 
 other people. 
 
 Now this I could understand ; but when I 
 heard of other things — of the flirtation, for in- 
 stance, between him and handsome Vivien Leigh, 
 who, it was reported, had thrown off a former 
 lover for his sake, of days and nights when no 
 one, not even his mother, knew where he w^as — 
 eclipses from which he would emerge with a white 
 face and sunken eyes that made his friends shake 
 their lieads dolefully over him ; of some of his 
 doings at Surbiton, and in particular the magni- 
 ficent river fete that he gave just before he left 
 for India, and the fame of which Hngers in the 
 neighbourhood to this day — then, I confess, I 
 was surprised, beginning at last to wonder if my 
 Thomas Gregory did really exist, as if he was not 
 only a dream of my imagination. Various other 
 reports, dealing mostly with his life in India, some 
 of them curiously minute, had fallen under my 
 notice ; but they did not seem quite to lit in one 
 with the other. 
 
 Then came the difficulty of selection. I had 
 formed my own conception of his character — a 
 conception seriously shaken already by what I
 
 THE EAJAH's heir SPEAKS FOR HLMSELF 119 
 
 had heard of him in Surbiton. Would not my 
 selection, if I tried to choose amongst the materials 
 offered to me, be coloured both by the conception 
 I had previously formed and by the shock it had 
 sustained, so that the image produced would be 
 distorted, and, in no sense, answering to reality? 
 
 I was in this state of perplexity — on the point 
 indeed of giving up the task of tracing the for- 
 tunes of the rajah's heir, when, by the mediation 
 of a friend, who was anxious that the curious 
 story should not be lost, a diary, kept spasmodi- 
 cally by Tom himself for some years, was placed 
 in my hands, with liberty, under certain restric- 
 tions, to use it according to my own judgment. 
 
 It has been of inestimable service to me, not 
 only in filling up blanks that would otherwise 
 have remained vacant, but also as giving such a 
 mental image of the man himself as no one but 
 himself could draw. It is partly with a view of 
 presenting the first outlines as it were of this pic- 
 ture — partly because they form a good introduc- 
 tion to the stirring events of his Indian life, that 
 I have decided to give, almost as they stand, the 
 daily jottings in Tom's diary during his first 
 voyage to India. 
 
 S.S. 'Patagonia,' September, 1856.— I will do 
 as I have been advised. I will write down my
 
 120 THE rajah's heir 
 
 experiences, and some of the strange thoughts 
 and contradictory impulses that are constantly 
 with me. It is possible that in this way my 
 purposes and aims may become more distinct to 
 myself. I don't think there could be a better 
 moment than this for beginning my record. In 
 the little state-room which for the next few weeks 
 is to be my home there is a perfect quietness. 
 I can hear the movement of feet up above, and 
 the throbbing of the engines as they beat the 
 water, but there is nothing else. After the ex- 
 citement of the last few days it seems like a 
 blessed lull — a pause in my life. 
 
 It is three months now since I heard of the 
 change that had come into my life. I look back 
 upon those months as I might on a tumultuous 
 stream that had borne me on its surface. Hur- 
 ried from one mental and physical sensation to 
 another, I have not had time so much as to 
 think. I have felt like a foam-bubble on a wave, 
 a toy ship in a storm. Before the tumult begins 
 again, as it will, I suppose, when my feet touch 
 the opposite shore, I must try to realise and 
 define my position. 
 
 I am heir of my cousin, the rajah of Gumil- 
 cund, and I am going out to take possession of 
 my inheritance. Besides land and money he left 
 me the succession of his ideas, which succession
 
 THE EAJAH's HEIE SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF 121 
 
 I have lost through my own cowardly delay, and 
 liability to be guided by the ignis fatuus of pas- 
 sionate impulse. It is this succession which I 
 am seeking to recover. From the lips of the 
 men who knew him I may learn something of 
 what my papers would have taught me. Mean- 
 time, and with a view to takincr the best advan- 
 tages of my opportunities, I am studying the 
 Oriental languages, and trying my hardest to 
 grapple with the difficulties of the Indian philo- 
 sophies and religions. Until I know what my 
 task will be I have made up my mind not to 
 take up any strong personal interest into ray life. 
 I will live for this, and for nothing else. 
 
 Sometimes — I will confess it here — there have 
 been moments w^hen my nature has rebelled 
 wildly against its self-imposed restrictions — 
 moments when I have forgotten that the inherit- 
 ance came to me with conditions which I must 
 understand and fulfil before I can so much as 
 know that it belongs to me — when I have craved 
 passionately for the enjoyments of the senses. 
 
 Such a moment was that of my river-fete — 
 Yes — and even now, although I know how illu- 
 sive are the brief, sickly-sweet pleasures of the 
 senses — my pulses wnll throb as I look back 
 upon it. A night that seems like a century ! 
 Beautiful Vivien Leigh, the designer of the fes-
 
 122 THE rajah's heir 
 
 tival, as she was its queen, sat beside me. I re- 
 member a moment when she and I and some 
 others were floating doAvn the river on a painted 
 barge. She was dressed in a robe whose colour 
 was like that of ruddy flame ; the white glitter of 
 diamonds lighted up her dark hair ; her wonder- 
 ful, witch-like eyes, resting on mine, were di awing 
 my soul away. I was close to her — I was going 
 to speak — when — Oh ! Grace ! Grace ! this once 
 let me write your name. It was your boat, all 
 lighted and dressed with streamers, that passed 
 us by. You, my dearest, were there, with the 
 rudder-strings in your hands, and your sisters — 
 stately Maud and gay little Trixy, and gentle 
 Lucy and Mildred — held the oars. How lovely 
 you all looked in your wliite dresses ! One of 
 you called to me — it was Trixy I think — and I 
 left my flame-coloured lady, and stepped down 
 amongst you, and j^ou gave me a pair of oars, 
 and as I grasped them, carrying the boat forward 
 by a vigorous stroke, I knew that the witchery 
 had lost its power ; that I was once more free. 
 
 I saw Mr. Cherry the day before I started. 
 He is an admirable person, perfectly sincere in 
 his creed and in his life ; but how singularly 
 illoo^ical ! I believe he thanks heaven for the 
 loss of my papers, feeling convinced that it came 
 about in answer to prayers of his own, for my
 
 THE EAJAH's heir SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF 123 
 
 salvation and guidance. He warns me, too, on 
 scriptural authority, against spirits that peep 
 and mutter. And yet, because I think that the 
 curtain which hides the invisible from our 
 senses has been once lifted for me, he calls me a 
 mystic. ' My dear sir,' I could not help saying 
 to him one day, ' I do believe that at this 
 present moment you are far more a mystic 
 than I am.' Mr. Cherry's keen head and clear 
 judgment, when matters of business are in 
 question, have, however, been exceeding^ valu- 
 able to me. He has advised me concerning my 
 correspondence with the Lieutenant-Governor, 
 mapped out my route in India, and given me 
 the names and addresses of those known to him 
 in the East as the chief friends and associates of 
 my cousin, the rajah. 
 
 — I have just been up on deck seeing the 
 last of the English coast. We are off the Isle of 
 Wight, where we stopped, for a few moments, to 
 put off the Channel pilot. It is late in the after- 
 noon, the atmosphere misty and irradiated with 
 the hues of sunset, so that we seem to be float- 
 ing in a rosy haze, through which the pale 
 green shores of the land we are leaving gleam 
 faintly. There is scarcely any wind, and the sea 
 is as smooth as a lake in midsummer. 
 
 — I have been fortunate enough to find a
 
 124 THE rajah's heir 
 
 person on board who can help me in my Persian 
 and Sanscrit studies. He is, or seems to be, 
 a pure Indian, by name Chunder Singh, such a 
 handsome fellow, tall, well put together, with a 
 face whose fine cast and quiet dignified ex- 
 pression, impress one at once ! This afternoon 
 I saw him looking at me with interest, where- 
 upon I spoke, and finding he understood English 
 well, talked with him for some time. I have 
 spoken about him to the Captain, who says he 
 is needy, and will, no doubt, be glad to give me 
 lessons. 
 
 — Chunder Singh has met my advances with 
 a gentleness and benignity that have charmed 
 me inexpressibly. He was so princely in his 
 manners that I felt half ashamed of offering 
 him money for the help which he seemed so 
 ready to give me ; but when, with English awk- 
 wardness, I blurted out that, if he gave me 
 lessons he should be adequately paid for them, 
 he accepted my offer with a grace and dignity 
 that caused me to blush over my own hesitation. 
 This morning we met for the first time over my 
 books with the crabbed characters to which I 
 am extraordinarily glad to return. Chunder 
 Singh, I am sure, will prove an admirable 
 teacher. 
 
 — We are in the Bay of Biscay. There has
 
 THE EAJAH's ITEIR SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF 125 
 
 been a considerable swell on all day, and the 
 decks have been empty of passengers ; but 
 Chunder Singh and I have kept our feet. I 
 like him more and more as the days go by ; but 
 I confess he puzzles me exceedingly. I think he 
 is more than a professor of Eastern languages. 
 His conversation, although free from any sort 
 of bombast, leads me to believe that he has 
 occupied a superior social position, and he has 
 certainly mixed with men of mark. Then I 
 fancy I can detect in his manner a peculiar 
 anxiety about me — an interest, in fact, stronger 
 than our respective positions and the period of 
 our acquaintanceship seems to warrant. 
 
 I mentioned this to Colonel Trent — an inti- 
 mate friend of General Elton's — wdio is travelling 
 with us, and I put down his answer because it 
 may be useful to me hereafter. I must be on 
 my guard, he says, against inferring too much 
 from manner in the East. The educated Asiatic 
 has a courteousness far exceeding ours. We, 
 when we wish to be friendly, speak to our com- 
 panions about ourselves. He waits for his 
 friend's confidences, and listens to them with 
 the most courteous attention, which generally, 
 however, is mere manner. 
 
 ' I have spent twenty-five years in the East,' 
 said Colonel Trent. ' I am not without acute-
 
 126 THE rajah's heir 
 
 ness, and I believe I know the Asiatic better 
 than most Europeans. Well ! I don't know him 
 at all. That's just the difference between me 
 and those others. They think they do, I know 
 I don't. Between us and the native there is a 
 great gulf fixed. I defy any man hving to 
 bridge it. Yes, it is so. You may see them in 
 their hosts. You may have, as you suppose, 
 friends amongst them. You may study their 
 history, their language, their ways ; but are 
 you any the nearer to understanding them? 
 Take one of the men whose characteristics you 
 have been studying. Look into his eyes ! 
 Have you any distant idea about his thoughts ? 
 Watch his ways ! There is not an antic he per- 
 forms — not a word he lets slip unconsciously 
 — that will not be a mystery to you. I would 
 venture to lay a heavy bet that in a year that 
 man would give you so many surprises and 
 shocks that you would give up thinking you 
 knew the native mind.' 
 
 This is certainly not encouraging from a 
 man of so much experience ; but I reserve my- 
 self. I shall find out more presently. In the 
 meantime, and in the light of this conversation, 
 it was no little curious to hear what Chunder 
 Singh had to say on the relations between 
 England and India, Our conversation took
 
 THE rajah's heir SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF 127 
 
 place this evening ; in fact, as I have only just 
 come down from the hurricane-deck, which we 
 have pretty nearly to ourselves, every word of 
 it is fresh in my mind. 
 
 'The situation is a strange one,' said the 
 Indian meditatively. ' I doubt if the world has 
 ever seen a stranger. You have come to us — 
 not as a great nation that conquers another by 
 the resources of a higher civilisation— but as a 
 company of traders. Money-making — that was 
 your object. Yet you sent us of your best — 
 great soldiers, high pohticians, men of lofty will 
 and noble aims. And we, Asiatics, who adore 
 in others the qualities we lack ourselves, have 
 paid them homage, and fought under their 
 banners in defence of the rights won from the 
 weakness of our rulers. And so, out of the 
 acts of a trading company, a great empire has 
 grown. But let me tell you,' said Chunder 
 Singh impressively, ' that the quality of the rule 
 smacks of its origin. It is just in most cases, 
 but it is not sympathetic, nor is its policy large 
 and beneficent. With any other nation under 
 the sun the results would be disastrous. 
 But you English are a strange people. You 
 go straight on. In your wildest flights you 
 cannot forget that you have a conscience, and 
 80 you have won the respect of some and the
 
 128 THE rajah's heir 
 
 superstitious dread of others, and your empire 
 goes on increasing.' 
 
 ' But you do not love us,' I said. 
 
 'How can we?' answered Chunder Singh. 
 ' As in the Divine — which is the model of all 
 excellence — the Supreme Spirit, from whom all 
 flows, and to whom all must return — love must 
 begin from above. Do you love us ? You 
 know you do not. I am not speaking of you 
 individually, or of any other man. One here 
 and there, considering the greatness of our land, 
 may take an interest in us. But, as a nation, do 
 you care for us ? ' 
 
 It was impossible for me to say that we did, 
 knowing full well the contrary, and then those 
 strange words, which echo still in my ears, were 
 spoken. 
 
 ' Let England look to it ! Let her listen to 
 the voices of her wise men ! Let her know that 
 if she does not bestir herself now the time will 
 come when she must ! She is standing to-day 
 on the thin crust of a volcano, which, at any 
 moment, may crack under her feet, sending her 
 down into a gulf of fire, which it will take all 
 her strength to quench.' 
 
 He would not explain what he meant, though 
 I pressed him earnestly. No doubt his words 
 were merely rhetoric — an idea of his own.
 
 THE rajah's heir SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF 129 
 
 coloured with Oriental exaggeration ; but they 
 haunt me in a very curious way. Can this, I 
 ask myself, have had anything to do with the 
 rajah's secret? 
 
 We are passing the coast of Portugal, a low, 
 barren-looking country. Eain clouds are float- 
 ing abou t ; the sea is lump}^, and a veil of white 
 mist covers the land ; but this is sometimes 
 lifted, and then the low, sandy coasts gleam out 
 with a startling brilliancy. I hear that, if this 
 wind holds, we shall put in at Gibraltar to- 
 morrow. 
 
 — We did not put in yesterday. We were 
 kept out at sea by a gale of wind that came 
 rushing in from the Atlantic. What a day it 
 was ! No rest for anyone. The waves swept 
 us from stem to stern, knocking us about till 
 our timbers creaked ; and the wind liowled dis- 
 mally in the rigging ; and all day long there 
 were shocks of crashing pottery and racing 
 engines. It was a perfect Pandemonium. Being 
 new to this kind of work I thought it alarming 
 at first ; and I shall never forget the chill that 
 swept over me when, early in the morning, I 
 looked out into the grey wilderness of leaping 
 waves. I was quickly reassured by my friends 
 Colonel Trent laughed at the storm ; the officers 
 looked, if anything, more cheerful than usual ; 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE rajah's heir 
 
 and tlie pale-faced ladies, who sat about in the 
 saloon, were as calm as if they had been in their 
 own drawing-rooms at home. I made acquaint- 
 ance with several this morning, notably one 
 Mrs. Lyster, whom I think I shall like. 
 
 In the night the wind abated, and when I 
 looked out this morning I found that we were 
 entering the Straits. The weather was delight- 
 ful, much warmer than it had been, the sun 
 flooding the sea with silver light, and a pleasant 
 breeze blowing. The ship is steady, too, which, 
 after yesterday's experiences, has been a great 
 comfort to us all. 
 
 — I meant to have written every day ; but 
 since we left Gibraltar it has not been possible 
 to do anything that requires attention, and 
 writing has been out of the question. What 
 a Mediterranean it has been ! Stormy days, 
 nights of black darkness and pelting rain ; hur- 
 ricanes that seem to drive the ship before them ; 
 and every day, and all day long, the wild sym- 
 phony of the tempest in our ears. I think, 
 however, looking back, that I have liked it. I 
 have had a curious, inexplicable feeling of relief. 
 I have not been obliged to do anything — even 
 to think. That sense of responsibility, which, 
 since my life fell into its new conditions, has 
 weighed upon me so cruelly, was for the mo-
 
 THE rajah's heir SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF 131 
 
 ment taken away. Sometimes, with an awe that 
 was not altogether painful, I would wonder how 
 it would be with me if I knew that the freedom 
 was not for a few moments, but altogether ; if, 
 with one of those shocks of wave and wind, the 
 engines should break, and the hehn cease to 
 work, and the ship settle down into the boiling 
 sea, and the officers come with white faces to 
 bid us prepare for death. After the first un- 
 springing of passionate regret — I suppose there 
 must be that while we are human — would there 
 be this sense of relief intensified ? Xo more 
 beating about of the troubled spirit, seeking the 
 right way and finding it not ; no more pricking, 
 heart-tearing activities ; but in their place re- 
 signation, a quiet acceptance of the decree of 
 the All-Merciful ! 
 
 I was not so much engrossed in my own 
 sensations as to be oblivious of what was o'oincr 
 on around me ; and I have, in the meantime, 
 made one or two friends. The chief of these is 
 Mrs. Lyster. She impressed me favourably at 
 first, and I like her better and better every day. 
 I find that she is Irish, which perhaps accounts 
 for the delightful vivacity and naturalness of 
 her manners. Though she has. quite a host of 
 troubles, having just left a party of boys and 
 girls whom she adores, to join her husband in
 
 132 THE RAJAHS HEIR 
 
 India, she never gives way to depression ; and, 
 in fact, it is only at odd moments that she 
 allows herself the indulgence of thinking of her 
 own afiairs at all. The most of her time is 
 taken up in making things as comfortable as pos- 
 sible for everyone else. I like her appearance, 
 too, her slender, upright figure, her well-bred 
 head and delicate face, with a sad look in the 
 dark eyes and a humorous expression about the 
 mouth, and her clever litile hands that are always 
 busy about kindnesses. As she is travelling alone, 
 she has allowed me the pleasure of looking after 
 her a little. At Gibraltar, where we spent the 
 greater part of a day, I was her escort on shore. 
 In the course of that excursion I found out, to 
 my surprise and pleasure, that we have mutual 
 friends. She knows Lady Winter very well 
 indeed, and, having met my mother at Surbiton, 
 where it appears she spent two or three days 
 this summer, she may almost be said to know 
 me. 
 
 Since then she has given me a piece of news 
 which surprised and staggered me more than I 
 could have thought possible. Vivien Leigh, the 
 heroine of my t'iyqi: fete, is married to a Captain 
 Doncaster, in the 3rd Bengal Foot, a gentleman 
 whom she has known since she was a child, and 
 to whom she has been betrothed for the last
 
 THE rajah's heir SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF 133 
 
 year at least. They were married the day 
 before our ship left the Docks, and will start for 
 India in the course of the autumn. I sincerely 
 hope that we may not come across one another. 
 I never wish to meet Vivien again. 
 
 — The weather is much better. We have 
 blue skies and sunshine, and a beautiful silken 
 sea. What a change it makes in the ship ! The 
 decks, completely deserted a few days ago, are 
 gay with people, and the ladies have brought 
 out their pretty dresses and their dainty sewing 
 work, and two or three children are playing 
 about, and there is talk amongst the energetic 
 of music, and dancing, and charades. Mrs. 
 Lyster, of course, takes the lead. She is every- 
 body's friend ; and, besides being the most per- 
 suasive and genial of women, she is an old 
 traveller, Avho has studied the art of organising 
 talents. For my sake, I am sure — she Avill insist 
 that I think too much — she has made me her 
 lieutenant, and now all the time I can spare from 
 my Oriental studies, which are in full swing 
 again, is devoted to the task of persuading 
 people to make themselves amusing, and, when 
 I have succeeded so far, in bringing them up to 
 Mrs. Lyster to be ' organised.' 
 
 — Since I wrote last we have passed Malta. 
 We lay in the harbour of Valetta for a day
 
 134 THE kajah's heir 
 
 and two nights, having freight to land. I went 
 on shore, with Mrs. Lyster for my cicerone, as 
 she knows the httle town well. It was an en- 
 chanting day — the sky of the deepest blue, and 
 the sea like sapphire — and I enjoyed every- 
 thing : the httle streets that seemed to slant 
 up into the radiant sky, their whiteness making 
 the blue more intense ; the feel of the earth 
 under my feet ; the cathedral of the knights 
 with its thrilling memories ; the rush of quaintly- 
 dressed people in the cathedral square ; our drive 
 into the barren-looking country outside the town ; 
 our saunter through the curiosity shops. And 
 Mrs. Lyster was as charming and sympathetic a 
 companion as one could wish. 
 
 In the course of our ramble through the 
 shops we met several of our ' Patagonia ' friends. 
 The result of all this buying will, no doubt, be 
 seen to-morrow, when, if this fine weather holds, 
 the little masquerade which Mrs. Lyster and I 
 have been planning is to come off on the quarter- 
 deck. The idea was started by Mrs. Lyster, and 
 we all think it excellent. A reception is to be 
 held by the handsomest girl on board in the 
 character of Britannia. Everyone presented 
 is to wear a disguise and to speak and act in 
 character with the impersonation. The first 
 officer, to whom the names are to be given
 
 THE rajah's heir SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF 135 
 
 beforehand, will act as usher mtroducing the 
 guests. When they are all assembled the Cap- 
 tain and one of the elder ladies are to pass them 
 in review, in order to award a prize to the most 
 striking and best-sustained personation.
 
 136 THE kajah's heir 
 
 CHAPTEE Yin 
 
 THE MASQUERADE AND ITS CONSEQUE>"CES 
 
 The masquerade, which came off this evening, 
 is over. I have taken part in it, and I am tired 
 and bewildered ; but I know I shall not be able 
 to rest until I have tried to recall and to under- 
 stand what has happened. So I have asked for 
 a longer supply of light than usual, and I am 
 sitting alone in my cabin writing it all down. 
 
 As soon as the masquerade was arranged I 
 determined on my disguise. I would be an 
 Indian of high rank. I consulted Chunder 
 Singh, who with the most obliging readiness 
 entered into my project, undertaking to dress 
 and instruct me for the part. With this view 
 we retired to his cabin in the early part of the 
 day. He happened to have in his possession such 
 a dress as Indian rajahs wear upon state occa- 
 sions, decked out with jewellery which appeared 
 to be of great value. In these he dressed me. 
 Then he stained my face and hands a light 
 brown, deepened the colour of my hair and eye-
 
 THE :nl^querade and its consequences 137 
 
 brows, and wound a magnificent turban round 
 my brows. This done he began to show me the 
 proper gestures to use and speeches to make, I 
 in the meantime watching him closely, and try- 
 ing to mould my behaviour on his. At first, so 
 far as I was concerned, it was a mere game ; 
 but presently I felt as though an indescribable 
 and mysterious change were coming upon me. 
 I was not copying him only — his mind was being 
 reflected upon my mind. I was, in fact, stepping 
 out of my own individuality and into that of 
 another. I might have thought myself the 
 victim of a curious illusion had it not been that 
 there was an answering change in Chunder 
 Singh. For a few moments I saw him stand as 
 if paralysed, then a wonderful light overspread 
 his face, and with outstretched arms he came 
 towards me slowly, murmuring ' Brother ! 
 Brother ! ' 
 
 To the end of my days I shall remember the 
 misery of that moment. I retreated before 
 Chunder Singh. I would copy his gestures no 
 longer. I took off the dress and sent him away. 
 As soon as it was done, however, I laughed at 
 myself for my folly. What did my uneasiness 
 mean ? I Avas the successor of a rajah and the 
 inheritor of his wealth. If I could play the part 
 of a rajah, so much the better. When the
 
 138 THE eajah's heir 
 
 evening came I sent for Chunder Singh, and 
 said that if he would forgive my abruptness of 
 the morning I would put on his dress again. I 
 had told no one what I intended to be ; not even 
 Mrs. Lyster. Why I made all this mystery I 
 can't exactly tell. It was partly, I think, to 
 humour Chunder Singh. I remember even pre- 
 tending that I should not appear at all, not being 
 able to rig up a suitable dress. Only the first 
 officer, to whom the names were bound to be 
 given in, was in possession of my secret. 
 
 I think, at the last moment, I should have 
 drawn back, if it had not been for Chunder 
 Singh. As it was, almost everyone was out 
 before I could make up my mind to be pre- 
 sented. In the meantime the curious change of 
 the morning had come over me again, and I 
 felt not so much acting a part as Hving in it. 
 That others shared my illusion was evident from 
 the puzzled faces of the little motley crowd, 
 when I appeared among them, and was pre- 
 sented in my turn to pretty Britannia, under a 
 high-sounding Indian title. 
 
 Gravely and reverently I made my salaam, 
 and then stood aside. Colonel Trent was close 
 by, looking well as an Arab sheikh. He looked 
 at me scrutinisingly, and addressed me in Urdu. 
 I had studied this dialect with Chunder Singh ;
 
 THE .....SQUERADE AXD ITS COXSEQUE.Nt'ES 139 
 
 but I confess I was, surprised by the readiness 
 with which I understood and answered the 
 Colonel. We exchanged a few more words, and 
 then he turned away from me, ancj I heard him 
 say to one of the officers in English : ' I thought 
 it was young Gregory ; but I see I am wrong. 
 Who is it ? ' 
 
 The answer I did not catch. 
 
 And next I saw the light figure of my friend, 
 Mrs. Lyster, who was dressed as a gipsy, detach- 
 ing itself out of a group, whose fortunes she 
 had been telling. There was an expression of 
 mingled triumph and malice in her face, which 
 looked extraordinarily young, under its fan- 
 tastic head-dress. I saw that she expected to 
 find her friend, Tom Gregory, under the Indian 
 prince's magnificent mask, and that she was 
 jubilant over her own penetration in detecting 
 him. I think I wished her to find me ; but I 
 could not help myself. For that hour I was the 
 Indian rajah. When Mrs. Lyster had received 
 my profound reverence, and gazed for a few 
 moments speechlessly into my impassive face, 
 the red colour flamed to her cheeks, and she 
 turned away. But the first officer, who knew 
 me, looked more bewildered than anyone else. 
 Two or three times during the evenino- I cau^dit 
 him taking up convenient posts for observing
 
 140 THE rajah's heir 
 
 me ; but lie did not seem to be able to satisfy 
 himself. I happened to be near him when Mrs. 
 Lyster, who was really mortified by her failure 
 to detect me amongst the masqueraders, begged 
 liim to give up his secret. 
 
 ' I promise not to make any use of it,' she 
 said coaxingly. 
 
 ' But I am bound, Mrs. Lyster,' he pleaded ; 
 ' and then, you know ' — he was looking straight 
 into my face — 'our friend, Mr. Tom, might be 
 nearer than we imagine. Think of his wrath if 
 he heard me betraying him ! ' 
 
 ' Nonsense ; look for yourself. There is no 
 one here,' said Mrs. Lyster. 
 
 'Except the rajah,' said the first officer, in a 
 melo-dramatic whisper. 
 
 She started and glanced at me. ' What 
 a turn you gave me ! ' she said pettishly. ' As 
 it happens I know all about him. He doesn't 
 understand a word of English.' 
 
 ' Oh ! doesn't he ? ' said the first officer, 
 trying to tip me a wink, but breaking down in 
 the process. 
 
 ' Now don't you pretend to be so innocent,' 
 said Mrs. Lyster. ' I have it all from the Captain. 
 We took him on at Malta, and he has been 
 livinof in his cabin ever since, and Ohunder 
 Singh persuaded him to come out in his war-
 
 THE MASQUERADE AXD ITS CONSEQUENCES 141 
 
 paint and mystify us all. You see ! ' nodding 
 lier head triumphantly. And she added in a 
 lower voice, 'What a handsome fellow he is! 
 If it were possible really to like a native ' 
 
 But here, with a pang at my heart, I turned 
 away, for I did not wish to hear any more. 
 
 Shortly after this the deck-lights were ex- 
 tinguished, and the httle crowd of masqueraders 
 went down to the saloon, where, over a cham- 
 pagne supper, the Captain was to announce his 
 award. And now came what, to me, was the 
 most curious part of it all. My name was called 
 as the winner of the prize ; but I did not re- 
 spond. Thereupon there was a little explosion 
 of laughter and ironical cheering ; and Chunder 
 Singh, who had been sitting beside me, pushed 
 me forward. With the curious sensation of one 
 awakened from a dream, I rose to my feet, said 
 something, I don't remember what, and received 
 the congratulations of my friends. 
 
 ' You are a fine actor, my young friend,' said 
 an old fellow near me. ' I never saw a thino- 
 carried off so well. You might have been 
 amongst the darkies all your life.' 
 
 ' I protest, I am not sure of him yet,' said 
 another. 
 
 'Is he sure of himself?' This was from 
 Mrs. Lyster, who sat exactly opposite to me at
 
 142 THE KAJAII'S HEIR 
 
 the table. I noticed, with a httle pang, that 
 her tone was chilly, and she looked at me with 
 a gleam of something like anger in her eyes — I 
 am afraid she will not forgive me for havin^j 
 disappointed her 
 
 — My trick has produced consequences which 
 I was far from expecting when I planned it. All 
 of my ' Patagonia ' friends, with the exception of 
 Chunder Singh, who is almost irritatingly affec- 
 tionate, have been giving me the cold shoulder. 
 The Captain and the first officer are excessively 
 busy whenever they catch sight of me. Colonel 
 Trent has chosen to adopt a short, reserved 
 manner which prevents me from addressing him 
 much. Mrs. Lyster is politely cold, and several 
 ladies, who had condescended to be gracious 
 to me, have quietly relegated me to a much 
 less intimate footing. 
 
 So far as these last are concerned I do not 
 mind ; but Mrs. Lyster and I have been too 
 friendly for me to be able to give her up without 
 a struo'o'le. I asked her this morninsf how soon 
 she meant to forgive me. She answered hur- 
 riedly, but with a spice of resentment in her 
 manner, that she did not know what I meant ; 
 there was nothing to forgive, and then, to avoid 
 more questions, she left me abruptly. In the 
 afternoon she approached me of her own accord,
 
 THE MASQUERADE AXD ITS COXSEQUENCES 143 
 
 and made an effort to be cordial ; but the effort 
 was too apparent for me to be able to feel very 
 grateful. 
 
 What is the meaning of it all ? Can she, can 
 any of them, imagine that I am only playing the 
 European ? Mrs. Lyster cannot, for she knows 
 all about me. But even allowing that it were 
 so, not that I am an Asiatic, for that would be 
 impossible, but that my sympathies reach out 
 into the land where the ideas which have 
 measurelessly enriched the spiritual heritage of 
 the nations had their birth ; nay, more, that some 
 secret tie of blood or mental kinship does actu- 
 ally bind my life to that of the east — why 
 should they, therefore, despise me ? Ah ! what 
 a puzzle it is ! What a strange, inexplicable 
 tangle ! Who, who, will ever set it right ? 
 
 — This has been a busy week, for it has in- 
 cluded our landing at Alexandria, our day up 
 the Nile, our night at Cairo, and our caravan 
 journey across the Desert to Suez, where we 
 took ship again. It is night now. I have just 
 come down from the hurricane-deck, where I 
 have been talking to Chunder Singh. We are 
 steaming quietly down the Gulf of Suez, with 
 the shores of Arabia and Egypt looking dim 
 and ghostly in the moonhght rising on either 
 side of us.
 
 144 THE rajah's heir 
 
 My mind is full of the strange thing Chunder 
 Singh has been telling me. I was right in my 
 original suspicion. He did, and does, take a 
 peculiar interest in me. It was for my sake that 
 he came over to England, and for my sake that 
 he is returning ; but he would not seek to know 
 me until I had bade my home friends farewell, 
 and was launched, as it were, on my new hfe. 
 He was the mtimate friend and counsellor of my 
 cousin, the rajah, who himself desired that he 
 should make my acquaintance in this way. 
 Other of his servants and retainers are to meet 
 me in Bombay, and put themselves at my dispo- 
 sition. 
 
 This is, of course, ratlier startling news. I 
 have scarcely realised it yet ; but in the mean- 
 time my feelings are mingled. On the one hand 
 I ara thankful ; I find it pleasant to know that I 
 have been thought of and provided for in the 
 great new land, which will presently open out 
 before me. On the other I have a sensation of 
 something hke fear. It is as if the new life were 
 seizing me, drawing me in, as if I should never 
 again return to the old life, with all its sweet, 
 homely ways. Xo doubt this is merely a senti- 
 ment. I ought to be thankful, and I am, that 
 there is someone to whom I can speak of the 
 future, and who, for the sake of those who have
 
 THE MASQUERADE AXD ITS COXSEQUEXCES 145 
 
 gone before me, as well as for my own sake, will 
 advise and guide me. 
 
 One of the principal events of this week is 
 that I have made a new friend. My friend is a 
 little girl about seven years of age, though slie 
 looks much younger. She has white skin, just 
 touched here and there with the daintiest rose- 
 colour, tiny bewitching features, yellow hair soft 
 as spun silk, and grey eyes that have a curi- 
 ously pathetic look in them. In figure she is 
 the lightest, airiest little creature ; such perfect 
 hands and feet, and so ridiculously small. Light 
 as she is, I wonder sometimes that those feet can 
 bear the weight of her. She trots about the 
 deck in pink shoes that are like fairy's slippers 
 — the most absurdly beautiful things ! One of 
 them fell off the other day, and she came to me 
 to have it put on, and I never had such a diffi- 
 cult task in all my hfe. 
 
 It is only since the masquerade that Aglaia, 
 who is quite a little queen in her ways, has 
 deigned to take any notice of me. Before that 
 she would not respond to my advances at all ; 
 now she is more friendly to me than to anyone 
 else. 
 
 Her languid, sickly mother, who I do be- 
 lieve is taking the child out to India because 
 she lacks energy and resolution to leave her be- 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE eajah's heir 
 
 hind, is only too glad of what she calls, no doubt, 
 the child's infatuation, so that Aglaia is my con- 
 stant companion. She is never in the way, dear 
 little soul ! flashing in and out of my cabin, car- 
 rying me off to the other end of the ship, where 
 there is much more amusement for her than on 
 the quarter-deck, sitting by gravely while Chun- 
 der Singh and I have what she calls our lessons, 
 and falhng asleep with her two dear httle hands 
 in one of mine, and her yellow head nesthng up 
 against my shoulder ; she is always the same 
 gentle, delightful httle being. ' I love you,' she 
 whispered to-night, just before her eyehds closed. 
 I had been called in ' to help her,' to use her 
 own expression, ' to go to sleep.' ' Don't go away 
 ever ! ' I wish I could keep you, my httle 
 darling ! 
 
 — It has been very hot lately, and some of us 
 have slept on deck. I did so last night for the 
 first time. Before I went to bed Chunder Singh 
 had been talking to me on the ancient philoso- 
 phies and religions of the East. The last subject 
 we discussed was the old doctrine of metempsy- 
 chosis, in which he is a profound believer. As 
 I fell asleep under the stars I seemed to be hs- 
 tening to an argument respecting it. ' ^Yhy 
 should it not be ? ' said a voice. 
 
 ' There is no evidence,' said another.
 
 THE MASQUERADE AXD ITS COXSEQUEXCES 147 
 
 ' Is there evidence for anything spiritual ? ' 
 said the first. 
 
 ' For this there would be. Show me one 
 with memory of a past ! ' persisted the second. 
 
 A mocking laugh floated through the air. 
 Then the voice I had first heard spoke again. 
 ' Come with me, sceptic,' it said, ' and I will 
 show you.' 
 
 In the next moment I found myself in Ag- 
 laia's cabin. There lay my darling wide awake 
 in her berth, her yellow hair tossed back upon 
 her piUow, and her large grey eyes looking up 
 into mine sorrowfully. 
 
 ' Are those the eyes of a child ? ' said the first 
 voice. 
 
 I turned and fled. 
 
 And next I was in a large church full of 
 gaily-dressed people. A newly-wedded pair were 
 moving slowly down the aisle to the music of a 
 triumphant march. Suddenly the bridegroom 
 vanished, and the bride stood alone. Wonder- 
 ing what this might mean I looked into her face 
 and I knew it. The eyes, glittering with a fierce 
 light which held mine, were those of Vivien 
 Leigh. 
 
 It seemed to me then that the blood ran cold 
 through my veins as I heard the mocking voice 
 say: 
 
 l2
 
 148 THE eajah's heir 
 
 ' Are those the eyes of a woman ? ' 
 
 ' A woman ! A tigress ! ' I murmured. 
 
 The shock passed. I was on the ship again, 
 lying out upon the deck, and a face, beautiful 
 with tenderness, was stooping over me. ' Grace ! ' 
 I cried, but the shadowy form eluded me. Then 
 I heard a voice — Aer voice — ' Not Grace,' it said, 
 ' Aglaia.' 
 
 ' No, no,' I cried out piteously. 
 
 ' Hush ! ' whispered the dear voice. ' She is 
 lost, poor little creature ! But be patient. I am 
 coming down to help her presently.' 
 
 Here the voice died away, and while I 
 was straining my ears to catch it I felt myself 
 touched. 
 
 It was a real sensation this time, for my little 
 friend Aglaia was at my elbow. She was in a 
 white robe daintily trimmed with lace that went 
 down to her tiny bare feet, and her pretty yellow 
 hair was all ruffled with the wind. ' Look ! ' she 
 said, pointing to the east. I obeyed her, and 
 oh ! what a spectacle it was. For while we had 
 slept the rosy-fingered dawn, descending, had 
 opened the windows of heaven. 
 
 Lost in rapture I was gazing in, when my 
 little friend's small, plaintive voice recalled me 
 to the earth. 
 
 ' Aglaia is cold,' it said. ' Carry her.'
 
 THE MASQUERADE AND ITS COXSEQUENCES 149 
 
 I stooped, wrapped her from head to foot in 
 my plaidie, and took her up in my arms, where- 
 upon she laughed out joyfully. 
 
 ' That's nice,' she said. ' I'm glad you're so 
 big. Let me look at heaven, and then I'll go 
 down to mammy.'
 
 150 THE KAJAH'S heir 
 
 CHAPTEE IX 
 
 DELHI : VIVIEN : A MALCONTENT 
 
 The part of Tom's diary which deals with the 
 early days of his stay in India is too elaborate and 
 introspective to be largely used here. But the 
 service it has rendered to the writer of this story 
 in enabling him to trace its somewhat labyrin- 
 thine mazes is incalculable. He has, however, 
 other sources of information. The servants whom 
 Chunder Singh gathered round the young heir 
 as soon as he arrived in Bombay — intelligent 
 men all of them, and trained to their work by 
 that notable man, Byrajee Pirtha Eaj, the late 
 rajah of Gumilcund — have given him many use- 
 ful details. He has also been in communication 
 vdth the friends and acquaintances whom Tom 
 made on the road. 
 
 Chunder Singh, after making every arrange- 
 ment for his comfort, left him in Bombay and 
 proceeded at once to Gumilcund, Tom himself 
 having determined not to go thither until he 
 should have acquired a far greater familiarity
 
 DELHI : VIVIEX : A MALCONTEXT 151 
 
 with the language, and some insight into the 
 manners and sentiments of the people. This 
 knowledge he hoped to gain by travelling. 
 
 The glorious winter of 1856-7 was just open- 
 ing when, accompanied by a retinue of servants 
 and a string of camels and carts which contained 
 everything necessary for a long camping-out 
 tour, he left Bombay. He had been a great 
 success amongst the little society of that pictur- 
 esque Eastern capital, and he took with him a 
 host of introductions to English people of the 
 civil and military orders on his route, any of 
 whom would have received him with pleasure ; 
 but he seldom took advantage of his privileges, 
 mixing by choice with the people of the country. 
 Hoosanee — the bearer of the late rajah and his 
 own principal servant — was the medium of com- 
 munication. When the work of the day was 
 over — the long march, or the patient quest into 
 the secrets of antiquity — Brahmin priests and 
 Brahmin beggars, old soldiers, dispossessed land- 
 owners, and native merchants both Hindu and 
 Mohammedan, would be introduced by him into 
 the tent where sat the English-bred youth in his 
 Oriental dress, ready and anxious to discuss the 
 questions that separate East and West. On these 
 occasions Tom would sometimes surprise himself. 
 He would sit down isfnorant. He would hsten
 
 152 THE rajah's heir 
 
 to what his visitors had to say and keep silence. 
 Then suddenly, and to himself most mysteriously, 
 a flash of inspiration would come, so that he 
 would speak to them — not as a young man and 
 a foreigner — but as one who knew the land, and 
 had authority amongst its peoples. 
 
 It was a critical moment in the history of 
 English dominion in India. Lord Dalhousie's 
 policy of annexation had added to the empire 
 vast provinces, the new rulers of which, im- 
 patient to see the fruit of their labours, made, in 
 many cases with a stroke of the pen, such 
 changes as, in the natural order of things, it 
 would have taken years upon years to effect. 
 
 But society remained what it had been. 
 There was no relaxation of the tyranny of caste 
 — no attempt to educate those in whose hands 
 lie the influences that mould the lives of the 
 young. The people clung to their old customs 
 with all the more tenacity for the change in the 
 political order. 
 
 Meanwhile to the eye of the ruler, satisfied 
 with the good he had effected, the tranquillity 
 seemed to be absolute. The terror which in the 
 following year was to sweep through the land, 
 making the enlightened mad and the mild cruel, 
 had not begun to work. Yet, to those who had 
 the couracre and wit to look below the surface,
 
 DELHI . VIVIEN : A MALCONTENT 153 
 
 \igns of agitation were not wanting. Fiery 
 :ophets rushed through the land predicting 
 the speedy end of the new dominion ; there 
 were curious panics amongst the people and 
 soldiery — curious outrages, put down at once, 
 of course, and repented in dust and ashes ; 
 while sullen-hearted men, whose claims to 
 dominion had been set aside, moved slowly 
 through the cities of the Punjaub and the 
 North-West Provinces, whispering to one and 
 another that the measure of the stranger's 
 tyranny was full, and that the times were ripe 
 for revolt. 
 
 One of these malcontents Tom Gregory met. 
 
 He had been spending two or three days in 
 and about Delhi, his camp being pitched under 
 the shadow of that glorious monument of Moslem 
 dominion — the Kootub Minar, which is several 
 miles distant from the city. 
 
 The season was midwinter, and the weather 
 had been enchanting. He spent his days in ex- 
 ploring the tombs, temples, and palaces of the 
 city, and in the evening he rode back to camp 
 over the desolate plain that lies between old 
 and new Delhi. 
 
 One evening he was later than usual. The 
 glow of the evening had faded and the dark- 
 ness of a moonless night had fallen before he
 
 154 THE rajah's heir 
 
 reached his camp. Hoosanee came out to meet 
 him. 
 
 ' Is all well, my lord ? ' he said, in a voice 
 that trembled with emotion. 
 
 ' All is well,' said Tom, laughing, ' except 
 that 1 am a prey to hunger and thirst and 
 fatigue.' 
 
 Hoosanee raised a silver whistle to his lips, 
 and in a moment all the camp was in commo- 
 tion. 
 
 Smihng to find himself the centre of so 
 much subservience, Tom went into his tent, 
 took off the European clothes he had been 
 wearing, bathed, put on an Oriental robe, 
 and, having dined in some haste, seated himself 
 at the door of his tent. 
 
 Presently there fell a deep silence upon the 
 camp. The syces were lying down beside their 
 tethered horses ; the servants and camp-followers 
 were asleep ; only Hoosanee, the ever-watchful, 
 sat behind his master, motionless as a bronze 
 image, but with eyes and ears on the alert. 
 
 It was not so dark as it had been. The 
 moon, an orange ball, was swimming into sight, 
 slowly and mysteriously, above the rim of the 
 silent plain, and the fields of space were strewn 
 with the white fire of an innumerable host of 
 stars. By their light Tom saw dimly above his
 
 DELHI : YIVIEX : A MALCONTENT 155 
 
 head the tapering shafts of the Tower of Vic- 
 tory, and the glorious arched gateway close by. 
 On the other side, and but faintly discernible in 
 this light, was the famous mosque, once a Hindu 
 temple, beautiful with sculptured pillars, where 
 the Eajpoots and their followers worshipped 
 before the foot of the Moslem trod down their 
 holy places. 
 
 With a throbbing heart the English-bred 
 youth gazed round him. What was this that he 
 felt — an understanding, a sympathy, a reaching 
 out of his spirit as if these things were not new 
 to him, but old — nay, as if they were a very 
 part of his being ? He tried to think it out, but 
 he was tired both in body and mind, and, try 
 as he would, he could not keep his thoughts in 
 order. He was entering, indeed, upon that 
 delicious drowsiness which is the prelude of 
 sleep earned by hard labour, when a furtive 
 movement aroused him. Alert in a moment, 
 he sprang up to see before him a tall, lean 
 figure, wrapped in a ragged robe. 
 
 'Who are you? ' said Tom, ' and whence do 
 you come ? ' 
 
 ' I came out of the darkness,' returned the 
 figure, ' and I go into the darkness again.' 
 
 ' Come in and rest,' said Tom, lifting up the 
 curtain of his tent.
 
 156 THE kajah's heie 
 
 The stranger hesitated. ' You are the new 
 rajah of Gumilcimd/ he said. 
 
 ' I am the heir of the late rajah. Did you 
 know him ? ' 
 
 Here Hoosanee stepped forward. ' Excel- 
 lency,' he said, ' I know this man, and he was 
 known to the late rajah, my master. He is 
 a Brahmin youth, and the adopted son of a 
 prince.' 
 
 ' Call Ganesh,' said Tom, ' to give him food 
 and drink.' 
 
 Ganesh, the chuprassie, or steward, a man of 
 the highest caste, was, as Tom knew, the only 
 person in camp from whom the Brahmin stranger 
 could accept food. 
 
 He turned to him and entreated him cour- 
 teously to enter. 
 
 ' My brother will rest,' he said, using the 
 picturesque form of speech of the country, ' and 
 food and drink shall be brought to him.' 
 
 Without a word the strantjer fluncr himself 
 down on a pile of cushions. He looked round 
 him boldly ; but Tom noted with compassion 
 the wild hunger of his eyes. From under his 
 vestment he drew a cup and platter of silver, 
 richly wrought, which contrasted strangely with 
 his ragged robe. These Ganesh, the stately 
 Brahmin steward, filled, the one with new milk
 
 DELHI : YIVIEX : A MALCOXTEXT 157 
 
 and the other with rice and chupatties, where- 
 upon the stranger, having saluted his host, 
 turned away and ate and drank in a silence which 
 Tom preserved until the meal was ended. 
 
 ' Is my brother satisfied ? ' he said then. 
 
 ' For to-day,' said the stranger. ' But the 
 hunger will return.' 
 
 ' Come again to-morrow.' 
 
 ' And the following day ? ' 
 
 *Come the following day also.' 
 
 ' How long will your tent be here ? ' 
 
 ' Three days and nights.' 
 
 ' And then ? ' 
 
 ' I will go on to the higher country — to 
 Nepaul — perhaps to Cashmere — but first ' 
 
 'Go to the higher country at once,' inter- 
 rupted the stranger, ' or ' — he looked at his host 
 fixedly — 'become one of us.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' said Tom. 
 
 'I will answer by a question. You are an 
 Englishman ? ' 
 
 ' I am.' 
 
 ' But you do not love your people ? ' 
 
 The hollow voice had risen, and the ques- 
 tion sounded almost hke a threat. 
 
 Tom was surprised, but he answered quietly, 
 ' Of course I love my people. Why do you ask 
 me such questions ? '
 
 158 THE rajah's heir 
 
 ' I ask because I seek to know ; because you 
 are a mystery. See ! You dress as we dress. 
 You understand our language. You know our 
 ways. There is sympathy in your face. Twice 
 within this hour you have called me brother — 
 me whom the Feringhees have cast out. Why 
 is this ? ' 
 
 ' I have a stake in your country,' said Tom 
 gravely. ' The Supreme Spirit, who is over us as 
 He is over you, has decreed that I shall take up 
 the work of a great and good man, who was of 
 you, and who has gone out from you. I do not 
 know all I wish to know of his ideas ; but I am 
 convinced that he loved his people, and I am 
 learning to know them that I may love them 
 too. I call you brother because I am of your 
 kin. From the same great Spirit we came 
 forth.' 
 
 The stranger bowed his head. ' And unto 
 the same Spirit we return. My brother has 
 spoken truly. He has spoken as a sage.' 
 
 And thereupon, without answering Tom's 
 entreaties that he would stay or return, he rose 
 and took his leave. 
 
 The next day a strange thing happened. 
 Tom was busy in camp all the morning, having 
 letters to write and the accounts of his chuprassie 
 to examine and settle. Early in the afternoon
 
 DELHI : VIVIEX : A MALCOXTEXT 159 
 
 he rode into Delhi. He rode in by the Delhi 
 gate, and made straight for the Chandni Chowk, 
 the principal street of the town, where he in- 
 tended making one or two purchases. Here he 
 dismounted and gave his horse to the syce, who 
 led it behind him. The Chandni Chowk was, in 
 its way, a beautiful thoroughfare. It was very 
 wide, and a double avenue of trees, having a 
 canal of flowing water between them, ran along 
 its centre, while on either side of the street 
 were the stalls and booths where jewellery and 
 curiosity dealers exhibited their wares. It being 
 a Hindu holiday the town was crowded with 
 people dressed in all manners of colours. As 
 Tom walked along under the trees and basked 
 in the golden glory of the evening he enjoyed 
 keenly the life and movement about him. A 
 little body of fat Mohammedan merchants were 
 following him meanwhile with anxious look=-, 
 and he was thinking that he must give himself 
 up as a prey to one of them when he heard 
 loud shouting. Looking round to find out what 
 it meant, he saw a smart Enghsh carriage drawn 
 by two spirited ponies coming at a tremendous 
 pace along tlie street. He had scarcely time to 
 see that the driver was a lady before he became 
 aware that a man, whose head and upper limbs 
 were wrapped in a thick chuddah, was right in
 
 160 THE rajah's heir 
 
 the way of the horses. In less than a moment 
 he had dashed forward, seized the man, and 
 drawn him back under the trees. In the next 
 moment the horses were pulled back, and he 
 heard a high, clear voice : 
 
 ' So you are the knight-errant, Mr. Gregory ? ' 
 
 ' Miss Leigh,' he cried. ' Vivien ! ' 
 
 ' Excuse me,' said the lady, ' Mrs. Doncaster ! ' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon ; I had forgotten that 
 you were married.' 
 
 She laughed. ' Are you married too ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Tom shortly. 
 
 ' What are you doing, then ? ' 
 
 ' I am travelling.' 
 
 Mrs. Doncaster laughed, then turned her 
 pretty head round. ' By the by,' she said lightly, 
 ' where is the unhappy person I nearly ran over? 
 I ought to give him something to soothe his 
 terrors.' 
 
 ' Pray don't,' said Tom, who had recognised 
 in the scowling passenger his guest of the pre- 
 vious evening. ' He is not a beggar.' 
 
 ' Oh ! isn't he ? He looks very much like 
 one, then, and they love money, all of them, the 
 sordid wretches.' 
 
 ' Here ! ' she threw out a rupee, ' take that ! 
 It's aU I can spare, and it will be wealth to 
 you.'
 
 DELHI : VIVIEN : A MALCONTENT 161 
 
 She spoke the last words in halting Hindu- 
 stani. 
 
 The man whom she addressed — he had been 
 gazing at her fixedly for the last few moments — 
 spurned the coin with his foot, and it fell amongst 
 a group of misshapen, half-naked beggars, who 
 fell upon it fiercely, fighting one with the other 
 for its possession. The noise drew the people 
 together, upon which two or three of the native 
 police ran into the midst of the meUe^ shouting 
 and striking right and left. The whole city 
 seemed to be in commotion. 
 
 ' You will be surrounded,' said Tom hurriedly. 
 ' Whip up your ponies and drive through them ! ' 
 
 ' Not at all,' said Vivien. ' This is a piece of 
 fun to me.' 
 
 As she spoke the man whose action had pro- 
 voked the disturbance drew himself up to his 
 full height, gathered his chuddah about him, 
 and having cast a glance of mingled hatred and 
 scorn on the fair Englishwoman, took himself 
 off. 
 
 Vivien looked after him, laughing. ' That's the 
 best specimen of a native I've seen yet,' she said. 
 ' 1 wonder who he is. Doesn't he just hate me ? ' 
 
 ' Is it wise, do you think, to make these 
 people hate you ? ' said Tom. 
 
 ' Wise or not, it's amusing,' said Vivien. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE kajah's heir 
 
 ' But Beauty and Prince are impatient, and 
 those two idiot syces of mine look half dead 
 with fear. Aren't they a handsome pair, by the 
 by? I mean the ponies, of course — not the 
 syces. Come and see me, Tom. I hve in Can- 
 tonments. Ask for Captain Doncaster of the 
 3rd Foot. Anyone will tell you where it is. 
 You are staying some time longer ? ' 
 
 ' Three or four days.' 
 
 ' Then be sure to come. I'll introduce you 
 to my husband, and show you my serpents.' 
 
 ' Serpents ! ' echoed Tom. 
 
 ' Yes ; serpents. Funny pets, aren't they ? 
 But they amuse me. I cow them, and then 
 pinch them, and watch them hiss and spit. I 
 have a cobra ; he is grand when he's in a rage. 
 That man reminded me of him. Wouldn't he 
 just sting if he had the chance ? ' 
 
 'The crowd is thinning. Now is your 
 chance,' said Tom, standing away from the 
 carriage. 
 
 ' Good-bye, then, till to-morrow, shall we 
 say ? ' said Vivien ; and she drove off, leaving 
 Tom more disgusted than he had ever felt 
 before. 
 
 He was thinking it all over in the evening, 
 and wondering why he could not make up his 
 mind never to see Vivien again, when, suddenlv,
 
 DELHI : YIVIEX : A MALCONTENT 163 
 
 the lean figure he had seen the previous night 
 rose before him. ' My brother has come back, 
 then?' said Tom kindly. 'I bid him welcome.' 
 The man did not answer, even by a sign. 
 He stood erect and rigid in the lighted space 
 before the tent. 
 
 ' Come in and rest,' said Tom, ' and I will 
 call Ganesh, and he shall give you to eat and 
 drink.' 
 
 ' Eest ! ' cried the Brahmin bitterly, ' rest is 
 for men, and I am no man. I am a dog, a 
 creeping thing, to be spurned by the foot of the 
 passer-by. If you have any pity, kill me ! ' 
 
 ' My brother is raving,' said Tom pitifully. 
 ' Fatigue and want are breaking his heart. 
 When he has rested and eaten he will be glad of 
 the good gift of life.' 
 
 ' Does your Excellency speak like a sage 
 now ? ' said the Brahmin, with a sombre derision 
 in his voice. ' Does he know what he says when 
 he calls life good ? I tell him that it is not good 
 — it is evil.' 
 
 ' Life need not be evil unless we make it so.' 
 ' We ! ' shrieked the Brahmin. ' We ! I 
 see now that you know nothing. Look at me — 
 this ragged robe, these wasted limbs, these eyes 
 bright with the fever of famine, and say if I 
 have made myself what I am. I was brought 
 
 M 2
 
 164 THE eajah's heir 
 
 up as a prince. My father, who had no sons of 
 his body, adopted me, and I lived in his palace, 
 sharing his wealth and dominion, which were 
 one day to be mine. He died, and your people 
 denied my claim. I was not, they said, of my 
 father's kin, and I had no right to succeed him. 
 They would inherit for me and fulfil my duties. 
 The fools ! Can they raise up children to the 
 departed to keep green his memory upon the 
 earth ? Can tney pay to his ashes the obser- 
 vance that is due ? The funeral feast, the obla- 
 tion of water and rice, the garment to clothe the 
 shivering spirit, and the gifts to priests and 
 teachers to redeem it — who will give them ? 
 Will they ? Can they ? They know that they 
 cannot. While I wander homeless and ragged 
 upon earth, my father and my father's fathers 
 are in the pit, herding with demons and un- 
 friended spirits. Never can they be redeemed ; 
 never, through all the crores of ages that are 
 'to come, can they ascend into Swarga. By the 
 treachery of your people must the memory of 
 the pious die out. And when the Feringhees 
 become masters of us all, as they intend, there 
 will be no more offerings for the dead. Child- 
 less our great ones will depart, and the pit will 
 be fed with the savour of their beauty, and Swarga 
 shall be a desert, and the ^ods will lament.'
 
 DELHI : VIVIEX : A MALCO^^TE^'T 165 
 
 He stopped, breathless, the veins standing 
 out like knotted cords from his temples, and 
 tears, that burned as they fell, chasing one 
 another down his cheeks. As for Tom, who 
 had been searching for something to say, he 
 stood silent. What comfort could there be for 
 trouble such as this ? 
 
 But the man had a comfort of his own. All 
 at once his demeanour changed. His tears 
 stopped ; his lips set themselves together ; his 
 frame seemed to dilate, and the ragged gar- 
 ments which he drew about him were like the 
 raiment of a king. * Did I say for ever ? ' he 
 cried out. ' I was wrong. I see the imprisoned 
 spirits rise, and my flesh is stirred, and the hair 
 of my head rises up. The hour of release is 
 coming — it is near. On the dial of eternity it 
 is written. In blood and fire the dominion of the 
 stranger-race shall come to an end.' 
 
 *Hush! Hush!' cried Tom. 'You are 
 beside yourself.' 
 
 For an instant the man glared at him fiercely, 
 then his eyes fell. ' Take me in,' he said hoarsely, 
 ' and give me food and drink.' 
 
 Ganesh was called, and his wants were sup- 
 plied with reverent care; he, in the meanwhile, 
 accepting what was done for him with the 
 docility of a child. The meal over, he lay for
 
 166 THE kajah's heir 
 
 a long time with closed eyes on the pile of 
 cushions. At last, night having fully come, he 
 rose. ' Sahib,' he said to Tom, ' you saved my 
 life to-day, and I have not thanked you. At the 
 moment I was angry. I had said to myself, why 
 should I live ? I will die. The proud-hearted 
 daughter of the Feringhees shall trample me 
 under foot, and my people will avenge me. But 
 I have thought better of it, and now I thank 
 you. The day may come w^ien I may give you 
 more than thanks. In the meantime, take this.' 
 It was a piece of parchment, inscribed with 
 strange characters, and tied round with a crim- 
 son thread. ' Do not seek to know what it 
 contains,' went on the Brahmin, 'but keep it 
 with you ! If trouble or danger comes, and 
 you desire help, show it to one of our people, 
 and ask for him to whom it belongs. And now 
 farewell ! ' 
 
 In the next instant the stranger had gone, 
 and Tom was left alone with his amulet. 
 
 ' The man is certainly mad,' he said to him- 
 self ; and it was in memory of a curious incident 
 rather than from any belief in the scrap of 
 parchment's virtue that he hung it round his 
 neck.
 
 167 
 
 CHAPTEE X 
 
 MEERUT AND THE ELTOjS^S 
 
 For reasons of his own, which he could not 
 have explained to anyone, Tom determined not to 
 see Mrs. Doncaster again ; so marching orders 
 were given to Hoosanee and Ganesh that night, 
 and early on the following morning the train of 
 bullock-carts and camels that carried the tents 
 and baggage were on the move. 
 
 Tom followed them, taking one more ride 
 round the town before he went. The last place 
 he visited — this he remembered long afterwards 
 — was Hoomayun's tomb. He entered within 
 battlemented walls, mounted the massive plat- 
 form on which the palace of the dead stands, 
 and saw the marble tombs of the Emperor and his 
 friends, lying each in the frost-bound silence of its 
 vaulted hall. Then, from the elevated platform 
 he looked out on the soft green fields that sur- 
 round the city, and the river flowing peacefully 
 on its way, while the towering minarets of the
 
 168 THE EAJAH'S HEIR 
 
 glorious Jumma Musjid, and the swelling 
 cupolas of the Pearl Mosque, and the red 
 battlemented walls of Shah Jehan's palace 
 loomed mysteriously through the amber- coloured 
 mist of the morning. 
 
 Silent and peaceful it lay, like a dream of 
 past greatness ; the city, incalculable ages ago, 
 of proud Hindu warriors and earth -spurning 
 priests ; the capital, in later years, and the 
 stronghold of Moslem dominion ; the city swept 
 by wave after wave of revolution, sacked, 
 devastated, shifted hither and thither over the 
 plain ; but never destroyed ; to-day the city of 
 a shadow ; to-morrow, what ? As he gazed into 
 the tranquil plain, he felt his soul shuddering 
 within him. Grey antiquity seemed to be 
 throwing its arms about him and pressing out 
 his hfe. He panted for breath like one stifled. 
 What was he, and his people, with all their 
 greatness, what — what were they ? Time, that, 
 like the fabled monster devouring its own chil- 
 dren, moves forward irresistibly, had brought 
 them into being, and Time, when their days ran 
 out, would thrust them from the path of the 
 livinof. Or was Time also an illusion — a shadow 
 thrown by shadows on the whiteness of eternity ? 
 Did nothing really exist ? Nothing — the awful 
 word echoed through his brain, like the knell of
 
 MEERUT AXD THE ELTOXS 169 
 
 a dying faith. He groaned and pressed his 
 hands together. 
 
 Hark ! What was that ? 
 
 ' Is anyone there ? ' he said, looking round 
 him. 
 
 He saw no one ; but a voice answered, ' I 
 am here.' 
 
 ' Who are you ? ' said Tom. 
 
 ' The same who spoke to you before. I 
 came to you with your inheritance. You ask if 
 there is a reahty. I tell you that there is.' 
 
 ' Then, in the name of Heaven, where is it 
 to be found ? ' 
 
 ' Listen ! ' said the voice. ' You are like 
 many others who search afar off for the thing 
 that is close at hand. Look within ; not with- 
 out. It is there that you will find reality, for 
 you carry it about with you. You, not your 
 body, but the self that animates the body, are 
 the reality of which you are in search. Know 
 this and you are free, but you cannot yet.' 
 
 ' Why cannot I ? ' 
 
 ' Because for the good of others you are 
 bound to action. But be of good cheer! Give 
 yourself to the influences that are carrying you 
 along. Eesist the solicitations of sense, and, in 
 time to come, the knowledge that makes free 
 shall dawn upon you.' Whether it was a voice
 
 170 THE EAJAH'S heir 
 
 outside of himself or a mere colloquy between 
 contending trains of thought he could not tell. 
 Little could he have imagined meanwhile that 
 here, where he had stood, dreaming of the past, 
 here, ^yl^ere the son of Baber and the father of 
 Akbar slept, the last of his race would hide as 
 fugitiv^es, and that thence they would be taken 
 to imprisonment and death by a rough English 
 soldier, with a few troopers at his heels. Verily 
 Time devoureth its offspring ! 
 
 Tom's next place of rest was Meerut, a large 
 military station about forty miles from Delhi. 
 
 It was afternoon when the cavalcade arrived. 
 The camp was pitched in a little mango-tope near 
 the native town, and in the evening — such an 
 evening as is common in North India in winter, 
 when the air is crisp and the sky cloudless — 
 Tom, who was in European dress, mounted an 
 Arab pony and rode into the station. 
 
 When he entered the Mall, which intersects 
 the cantonments, and is the pride of every 
 Englishman in the district, he found it full of 
 life. Buggies, drawn by fast-trotting ponies, 
 were flashing past ; well turned-out English car- 
 riages, full of ladies and children in gay summer 
 dress, were passing more slowly up and down, 
 officers in mufti riding beside them ; and here 
 and there came an elephant, slowly pacing the
 
 MEEKUT AND THE ELTONS 171 
 
 ground, liis driver between his ears, and a 
 gorgeously dressed Indian gentleman in the 
 howdah on his back. 
 
 Tom was looking out on the gay scene when 
 suddenly he was pulled up ; for a group of 
 smihng faces were coming to meet him along 
 the drive. For a moment he fancied himself in 
 England again. There was his dear Lady 
 Elton, as pretty and soft as ever, lying back 
 amongst the crimson cushions of a phaeton, and 
 Maud was holding the reins, and Trixy and 
 Lucy were smiling at him from the back seat. 
 
 ' Tom ! ' they cried in one breath, as he drew 
 rein. 
 
 ' You here ! ' he exclaimed. 
 
 ' I don't wonder you are surprised,' said 
 Lady Elton, wdiose face was pink with excite- 
 ment. ' We left home much sooner than we 
 expected. The General wished for the girls' 
 sake to take another summer at home. But he 
 was wanted.' 
 
 ' And as father wouldn't go out without 
 mother, and mother wouldn't go out without us, 
 we are all here,' said Trixy, putting her charm- 
 ing little face forward. 
 
 ' I am afraid that is about the truth of it,' 
 said Lady Elton. ' Where are you staying, 
 Tom ? '
 
 172 THE kajae's heir 
 
 ' In camp. I have been living under canvas • 
 the hist month, and a dehghtful hfe it is.' 
 
 ' I should love it,' breathed Trixy. 
 
 ' But you will come to us now, of course ? ' 
 said Lady Elton. ' Now, do. We are a house- 
 hold of women. The General is out inspecting.' 
 
 ' Tom hkes women far better than men,' said 
 Trixy. 
 
 ' Can't you be quiet, scatter-brain ? ' said 
 Maud, who had been waiting impatiently for 
 the opportunity of putting in a word. ' Mr. 
 Gregory' (turning her dark eyes upon Tom), ' I 
 hope you will come. It will seem like old 
 times.' 
 
 ' When we sang and played together long, 
 long ago,' piped Trixy. 
 
 ' One of you at least hasn't changed,' said 
 Tom, smiling at Lady Elton. ' Thank you a 
 thousand times. If you will show me where 
 your bungalow is and let me give directions 
 about my things, I shall be only too glad to 
 join you for a couple of days.' 
 
 ' Good boy,' said Trixy, kissing the tips of 
 her fingers to him, and Lady Elton smiled 
 benignantly, telling him to come at his own 
 time — everything should be ready for him, and 
 Maud, wdio was even more dignified than she 
 had been at Surbiton, gave him a courteous
 
 MEEEUT AND THE ELTONS li 3 
 
 salutation and whipped up her ponies that Tom 
 might see how well she could manage them. As 
 for gentle Kttle Lucy, who had been dumb 
 throughout, she was wishing that Grace had 
 been in her place. 
 
 And in fact that was the one drawback to 
 an otherwise charming fortnight. Grace was 
 away visiting. The pleasant, haphazard people 
 did not quite know where she was. She had left 
 them to visit an aunt at Lucknow, who was 
 feehng dull after an only daughter's marriage, 
 and had begged Lady Elton to spare Grace to 
 her for a few weeks. She might possibly have 
 gone on to Cawnpore, or perhaps to Agra, in 
 both of which places the Eltons had intimate 
 friends. They were expecting a letter daily. It 
 was the hope of this letter coming that caused 
 Tom to delay so long at Meerut. He certainly 
 enjoyed the little break. For those few pleasant 
 days he was able to fling off the burden of 
 Orientalism that had been oppressing him, and 
 to forget that there was such a thing as philo- 
 sophy in the world. He was his old self — the 
 Tom who had picnicked with the girls on the 
 Thames, bantering Trixy, laughing at Maud, 
 adoring Lady Elton, and losing his heart to 
 Grace. The General came into Meerut two days 
 after Tom's arrival. He had been inspecting
 
 174 THE rajah's heir 
 
 troops in the district, and was exceedingly jubi- 
 lant over the apple-pie order in which he had 
 found everything. In the evening, when, the 
 ladies having withdrawn, he and Tom sat 
 together over coffee and cigars in the large cool 
 verandah, he expressed his satisfaction freely. 
 ' It is becoming the fashion,' he said, ' to run 
 down our native contingent. Nothing more 
 absurd ! Properly trained and led, they are a 
 splendid force.' 
 
 * But supposing fanatics got amongst them ? ' 
 said Tom. ' There are a few of that sort about. 
 I have met them.' 
 
 ' So have the rest of us, my dear boy. You 
 don't suppose I have served for thirty years in 
 India without meeting religious and political 
 maniacs? Why, the East is a hotbed for the 
 species. They flourish like a bay-tree by a river. 
 But look at the matter reasonably ! Eemember, 
 it is to the soldiers they must appeal. Now 
 what, in the name of Heaven, can the poor 
 devils offer that our men should run after them ? 
 Money ? They don't possess it. Plunder ? 
 Well, to be sure, something might be picked up 
 at that little game, but the fellows have sense 
 enough to know that it couldn't last long. No, 
 no. They get more out of us than they could 
 out of anyone else. And don't tell me, sir,'
 
 MEERUT AND THE ELTOXS 175 
 
 went on the General, working himself up to 
 what Trixy called his boiling-point, ' that there 
 is no sense of honour amongst them. For I 
 know there is. Yes, sir,' bringing down his fist 
 upon the table, ' I repeat it, there is ! I am 
 speaking from experience, mind, not hearsay. 
 Why, I have had jemadars under me, who 
 have been proof against temptations that 
 would have corrupted half the Englishmen . I 
 know.' 
 
 It struck Tom that the General was trying 
 as much to convince himself as to refute any- 
 one else ; but he was careful to give no hint of 
 his suspicion, which, however, on the following 
 day was curiously confirmed. 
 
 It was early in the forenoon. They had re- 
 turned from their ride, and were sitting out in 
 the verandah, the ladies busy over fancy-work, 
 while Tom entertained them with a dramatic 
 account of his travels. He had come to his 
 experiences at Delhi, and the singular encounter 
 with LIrs. Doncaster in the Chandni Chowk, 
 when the General strode in, his face purple with 
 indignation. 
 
 ' Eead this ! ' he said, striking the news-sheet 
 in his one hand with the doubled-up fist of the 
 other ; and as Tom, at a sign from Lady Elton, 
 who was not much afiected by these outbursts.
 
 176 THE eajah's heir 
 
 took the sheet from him, he muttered down in 
 his throat, ' The fools ! To make so much of a 
 trJlo/ 
 
 The trifle was the well-known 'ncident at 
 Dum-Dum, near Calcutta. A Lascar asked 
 drink of a Sepoy. The Sepoy, being of high 
 caste, refused haughtily to allow his drinking- 
 vessel to be defiled by the lips of a low-caste 
 man, whereupon the Lascar retorted that he 
 would soon lose his caste altogether, as the 
 Goyernment were making cartridges greased 
 with the fat of cows and swine. 
 
 It appeared from the article which Tom read 
 aloud, that this story was flying through the 
 length and breadth of the land, and the writer 
 feared that, if something was not done promptly 
 to reassure the high-caste men in the army, 
 serious consequences would ensue. 
 
 The General heard it through, and then 
 burst into a torrent of wrath. A nothing ! 
 Such a quarrel as might be seen going on any 
 day in the bazaars to be magnified in this way ! 
 It was absurd. It was worse than absurd ; it 
 was criminal ! If there was a panic, men like 
 the writers of the article in question would be 
 responsible for it. For himself, he knew the 
 natiye army. They had their faults, but a finer 
 body of men neyer breathed. He was glad —
 
 MEERUT AXD THE ELTOXS 177 
 
 he was proud to say — that any day he would 
 trust his hfe and honour in their hands. 
 
 Having dehvered himself thus, the General 
 calmed down, sent his bearer for a cooling 
 drink, swallowed it at a draught, and, looking 
 round on his wife and daughters, apologised for 
 his heat, and begged them not to be disturbed. 
 
 They were not thinking of such a thing. 
 Saucy little Trixy, whose eyes were twinkling 
 merrily, pointed out that he was the only dis- 
 turbed person present, except, perhaps, Tom, 
 who did look a little serious ; but then Tom was 
 a ' Grif.' Tom protested with her ; but she held 
 to her point. He might be a rajah's heir ten 
 times over, but he was a ' Grif all the same. 
 Why, the way he treated natives showed it. In 
 the midst of which httle discussion, Maud ob- 
 served, tossing her shapely head, and with a fine 
 expression of scorn on her face, that things 
 would have come to a pretty pass if they could 
 be afraid of natives. So far as she was con- 
 cerned, she would not mind meeting any number 
 of them with only her riding-whip in her hand. 
 ' You know they are an inferior race ; one can't 
 help feeling it,' she said. And Lady Elton said, 
 with her tranquil smile, that in Meerut, at least, 
 they did not need to be afraid, as they had 
 soldiers from England to protect them. So the 
 
 VOL. I. JS^
 
 178 THE rajah's heir 
 
 incident passed off, and in a few honrs it was for- 
 gotten ; but Tom remembered it long afterwards. 
 The life at Meerut, meanwhile, was a very 
 pleasant one. There were not many girls at the 
 station, and the Eltons, being pretty, well-bred, 
 charmingly dressed, and full of life and go, were 
 considered a great acquisition by everybody. 
 They were made the excuse for all sorts of 
 gaieties. ' We mustn't let those girls be dull,' 
 the men would say, and the unmarried consulted 
 the married, and balls and picnics, riding-parties 
 and military sports were got up in their honour. 
 This was all in full swing when Tom arrived, 
 and he, as the Eltons' guest, was included in 
 their invitations, so that he had never been so 
 gay before. Feeling bound to return the hospi- 
 tality showered upon him, he took counsel with 
 Hoosanee and Ganesh, and one evening his camp 
 was decked out with flowers and bunting, and 
 coloured lamps were hung upon the trees, and 
 waxed cloths were laid out upon the ground in 
 front of the tent, and at night, when the large 
 full moon was rising, nearly all the European 
 population of Meerut flocked out to dance and 
 gossip, and sip champagne and coffee, and enjoy 
 a picnic supper in the quarters of the mys- 
 terious Englishman, who was known already 
 through India as the 'Eajah's Heir.'
 
 MEERUT AND THE ELTONS 179 
 
 That night brought Tom's stay at Meerut to 
 a close. Hearing, on the following morning, 
 that Grace was at Lucknow, and that as she had 
 several more visits to pay there was not the 
 least chance of her returning home for some 
 considerable time, he could no longer be per- 
 suaded to delay. Early in the forenoon his 
 camp was struck, and he followed it towards 
 sundown ; Maud and Trixy, with two or three 
 young officers, riding out with him for some 
 little distance. 
 
 When he insisted at last upon their drawing 
 rein, Maud, who was riding in front with him, 
 looked into his face with steady eyes. 
 
 ' Good-bye, Tom,' she said. * What message 
 to Grace ? ' 
 
 ' Will you take it if I send it ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly,' holding out her hand. 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Tom, grasping it warmly. 
 ' Give her my dear love, Maud.' 
 
 ' I will. Anything more ? ' 
 
 ' Tell her,' hoarsely, ' that, whatever happens, 
 I shall not lose sight of her.' 
 
 'Isn't that ?' 
 
 ' A curious message,' broke in Tom, with a 
 smile. ' I am afraid it is ; but I can't help it. 
 Good-bye.' 
 
 Then Trixy and her escort, a dashing young 
 
 F 2
 
 180 THE EAJAH's heir 
 
 cavalry officer, called Bertie Listen, rode up, 
 and the last farewells were spoken. The English 
 party returned to Meerut, and the Eajah's Heir, 
 followed as usual by his faithful servant, set his 
 face towards the desert.
 
 181 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 ox THE BORDERS OF NEPAUL : A JOURXEY THROUGH 
 THE JUNGLE 
 
 The marching for the next fortnight was 
 dehghtful. Anything to equal the chmate of 
 this Indian winter Tom had never seen. Morn- 
 ing after morning there would be the same 
 brisk, invigorating air ; day after day the same 
 dark blue heavens, unbroken by the lightest 
 cloud, would overarch, like a blessing from the 
 Almighty, the vast plains through which they 
 were travelling ; and evening after evening the 
 same rose-lilac hue, wonderful beyond the power 
 of words to describe, would steal over the sky. 
 Hoosanee was their guide, and his ways afforded 
 some amusement and occasionally a little annoy- 
 ance to his master. While humble and reverent 
 in his manner, he kept the control in his own 
 hands. If Tom struck for independence hitches 
 occurred. The meals were half-cooked, the 
 beasts of burden were unmanageable, the coolies
 
 182 THE rajah's heir 
 
 had fever. And the artful Hoosanee had adroit 
 methods of making it appear that these annoy- 
 ances were due to the disturbed arrangement. 
 ' As his Excellency desires, very right indeed ! ' 
 he would say when an order was given to him ; 
 but Tom soon saw that if it was not Hoosanee's 
 desire also someone would suffer. So at last he 
 gave up the struggle. At Bareilly, which lay on 
 their route, Tom spent a few days, the Eesident 
 being an intimate friend of General Elton's. 
 From him he heard that Lord Canning's policy 
 was disliked by Europeans, and that there were 
 rumours of disaffection in the magnificent army 
 of Bengal. That this, even if it were true, 
 would affect the security of India, of the North 
 and North -West, did not seem likely, yet some 
 were holding themselves on the alert. Leaving 
 Bareilly, they crossed the Goomtee, and were 
 soon on the borders of Nepaul proper, whence 
 several days' quick marching brought them near 
 the foot of the fine mountain range, within 
 which, as in a basin, lies the heart of the valley 
 kingdom. But the dangerous Terai — a region 
 of marsh and jungle, difficult to traverse at all 
 times, and in the rainy season deadly to travel- 
 lers — had yet to be crossed. The road through 
 this jungle was not so good as it has since 
 become. Here and there it was so deeply en-
 
 ON THE BORDERS OF NEPAUL 183 
 
 cumbered with rank weeds and the steins of 
 giant creepers that the cooHes had Hterally to 
 hack a way through for the carts, and this made 
 the travelhng slow and difficult. They accom- 
 plished it, however, without accident, encamped 
 one night above the belt of miasma, and the 
 next day, by dint of hard climbing, came to 
 Sisagarhi, a peak in the second and higher 
 of the two ranges that shut in the valley of 
 Nepaul. 
 
 It was near sunset when they reached the 
 camping ground. The day's march had been long 
 and fatiguing. The gradients were excessively 
 steep, and Tom had reUeved his pony by walking 
 for long stretches. When he reached the wished- 
 for summit, he was so tired that he could scarcely 
 move. But in the glory of the scene that lay 
 before him his fatigue was speedily forgotten. 
 Far, far below, lying in the deepest shadow, was 
 the long fertile valley that forms the centre of the 
 mountain kingdom. From it, as from a basin, 
 rose the nearer mountains — range within range 
 — green slopes running up into wild, naked 
 crags, that flamed like beacons in the rose-red 
 of the evening, and beyond these, radiant and 
 awful, receding into unimaginable distance, the 
 gleaming snow-peaks of the Southern Hima- 
 layas.
 
 184 THE rajah's heir 
 
 Tom was, as he would have expressed it, 
 steeping his senses in the beauty of this mar- 
 vellous spectacle, when he caught sight of Hoo- 
 sanee, who was standing close by in a reverential 
 attitude, and looking at him wistfully. ' Is 
 anything wrong ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' Xo, my lord,' answered Hoosanee. 
 
 ' Then why do you look at me in that 
 way?' 
 
 ' His Excellency's dinner is served.' 
 
 ' Dinner, when that is before me ! Look 
 out, man, and be ashamed of yourself ! ' 
 
 ' If my lord will not eat, he will die,' said 
 the Indian servant humbly, ' and then what use 
 will these mountains do him ? ' 
 
 ' Fine locfic ! ' said Tom, lauo^hincr. ' And, 
 strange to say, convincing.' 
 
 Hoosanee led the way to the table, which 
 was at the door of his young master's tent. A 
 dinner that would have satisfied the require- 
 ments of an alderman was spread out ; but Tom 
 was too much excited to do it full justice. ' 'A 
 pity ! •' he said, as he pushed the untasted dishes 
 away. ' But it can't be helped. Don't look so 
 doleful, Hoosanee. I have taken enough, I 
 believe, to keep me from dying until to-morrow.' 
 Hoosanee bent his head, and was turning away. 
 Tom called him back. ' Come here,' he said.
 
 ox THE BORDERS OF XEPAUL 185 
 
 leading him to a little distance from the camp, 
 ' I have something to ask you.' 
 
 ' It is time your Excellency should rest.' 
 
 ' Leave that to my excellent self, Hoosanee, 
 and do as I tell you. Now, then, sit down ! 
 This is a quiet corner, where none of them will 
 see or hear us. Don't crouch, man; sit! and 
 don't, for heaven's sake, look at me in that 
 pitiful way, as if you thought I was bent on 
 committing suicide to-morrow ! I can assure 
 you I have a thousand reasons for wishing to 
 live a little longer. But tell me — why do you 
 take such an interest in me ? 
 
 ' Am I not my lord's servant ? ' said Hoosanee 
 in a troubled voice. 
 
 ' Of course you are ; but that doesn't account 
 for it altogether. Can love and devotion like 
 yours spring up in a day ? ' The bantering tone 
 in which Tom had begun to catechise his servant 
 had gone. He was very much in earnest. 
 
 ' The faithful servant is born, not made,' said 
 Hoosanee. 
 
 ' That is no answer,' persisted Tom. ' Speak 
 to me plainly. Is it for my own sake or for the 
 sake of others that you are so anxious about my 
 safety ? ' 
 
 ' It is for my lord's sake.' 
 
 ' But how can it be ? '
 
 186 THE eajah's heir . 
 
 ' Is it possible that my lord does not know ? ' 
 
 ' I know nothing, my good friend. En- 
 lighten me ! ' 
 
 Swaying himself to and fro, and speaking in 
 a subdued whisper, Hoosanee said : ' When my 
 master, the rajah, was dying he sent for me. 
 Chunder Singh had been with him, and received 
 his last wishes. I was sad that no word had 
 been given to me, for not even his foster-brother 
 loved my master as I did. He looked up, and 
 saw that I was sad. He smiled, for he was ever 
 glad that we should love him. " Chundefr 
 Singh," he said, " will tell my Hoosanee every- 
 thing." And with that, Excellency, he fell back 
 and died.' 
 
 There was a pause. Tlie light of the evening 
 had faded, and the glory of colour had gone. 
 Pale and livid, like ashes of burnt-out fires, lay 
 against the horizon the palaces of snow and ice ; 
 overhead, entangled in a wreath of vapour, 
 flitted a white ghostly moon, and the little stars 
 were twinkhng out above the hills. Tom 
 shivered, and drew his cloak about him. 
 
 ' And what did Chunder Singh tell you ? ' he 
 said, with a poor pretence of indifference. 
 
 ' What he said, my lord, will sound strange 
 in the ears of one of your Excellency's people. 
 To them there is one life upon earth, and beyond
 
 ox THE BORDERS OF XEPAUL 187 
 
 is the infinite, and the man who misses his 
 chance here is lost beyond the power of even 
 the Supreme Spirit to redeem. Is this not true ? ' 
 
 ' It is, at least, what some of our religionists 
 teach,' said Tom. ' But how did you learn all 
 this, Hoosanee ? ' 
 
 ' From my master, Byrajee Pirtha Eaj, who 
 would often let his servant be present when he 
 spoke of these things with wise men from the 
 West. Sahib, our belief is not as theirs. We 
 do not so limit the power of the Supreme. It is 
 taught by our saints and sages that the life we 
 lead here is but one in many — that we come and 
 go, changing into new forms perpetually. While 
 we are low, so they tell us, we have no power over 
 these changes. Unconsciously we work out our 
 destiny, and expiate the offences of which we 
 have no memory. But to those who rise in 
 being it is given to rise also in knowledge. 
 These see behind them the path by which they 
 have come, and the road they must travel on 
 their way to the Supreme lies open in front of 
 them. To this stage my master, the rajah, had 
 come. Once more, it was revealed to him that 
 he should return to the earth.' 
 
 Here Hoosanee stopped, and looked at his 
 master in a strange, wistful way, like one plead- 
 ing for a boon.
 
 188 THE kajah's heir 
 
 ' Well ! ' said Tom. 'Go on ! How was 
 your master to return ? ' 
 
 ' Does not my lord know ? Has not his own 
 heart told him ? ' 
 
 ' I know this — that if I hsten to you much 
 longer I shall go mad. I was a fool to ask you 
 anything.' So saying, Tom started up and strode 
 off into the darkness. 
 
 He turned after a few moments, and saw 
 Hoosanee following him. ' Come here,' he said, 
 in a hoarse voice, ' and tell me who 1 am ! ' 
 
 'You are my master. Sahib.' 
 
 ' Which master, Hoosanee ? Him who has 
 gone ? ' 
 
 ' I see no difference, my lord.' 
 
 ' Then I am both. Is that what you say ? ' 
 
 ' I say nothing. Will not my lord rest ? ' 
 
 ' You have put a maggot in my brain, 
 Hoosanee, which will keep me from resting, I 
 expect,' said Tom, speaking now in English. 
 
 But he was wrong. Contrary to Hoosanee's 
 advice, his bed was laid out under the stars ; 
 and when, after an interval that seemed like a 
 moment, he opened his eyes, to see a pale white 
 dawn, ghastly as the face of the dead, stealing 
 over the sky, and touching with cold fingers the 
 gleaming tabernacles of snow and ice in front of 
 him, he was conscious of having slept for many
 
 OS THE BOEDERS OF XEPAUL 189 
 
 hours, and of feeling extraordinarily strengthened 
 and refreshed. 
 
 So that day they went down to the foot of 
 the hills, travelling thence by a good carriage 
 road to Katmandu, the capital of Nepaul.
 
 190 THE rajah's heir 
 
 CHAPTER Xn 
 
 A VISIT TO JUXG BAHADOOR 
 
 At Katmandu, the capital of Nepaul, Tom spent 
 several days pleasantly. He was delighted with 
 the city, the quaintness of whose architecture 
 and the gay costumes and kindly ways of whose 
 people gave him many new and agreeable sensa- 
 tions ; while the reception accorded to him, both 
 at the Eesidency and at the palace, which was 
 presided over by that great and enlightened 
 prime minister, Jung Bahadoor, left him nothing 
 to desire. 
 
 Ever since he left Bareilly he had been 
 thirsting for news ; but news travelled slowly in 
 the days before the Mutiny, and no one in the 
 valleys had heard of the occurrence, which was 
 looked upon by the enlightened as the breaking 
 of the storm. On February 28, when Tom, 
 with a light heart, was setting out to visit 
 the English Eesident at the Court of the King 
 of Nepaul, the 19th Native Infantry, standing
 
 A VISIT. TO JUXG BAHADOOR 191 
 
 trembling in their lines at Berhampore, were 
 listeninof with dull hearts to the haran^jue of 
 their irritated colonel, and refusing point-blank 
 to receive the percussion-caps handed out to 
 them. 
 
 From the wise and wily Jung Bahadoor 
 Tom learned much concerning the true state of 
 Indian affairs. He was reheved to find that in 
 spite of the faults of the British raj — faults 
 which this sagacious person was not slow to 
 criticise — he had a profound behef not only in 
 its general justice and beneficence, but that it 
 was the only power which could for the present 
 guarantee the land against anarchy. As such 
 he and his people would support it. 
 
 At other times he spoke of the late rajah of 
 Gumilound, who had been one of liis most 
 intimate friends, giving the young heir much 
 valuable information with regard to his cha- 
 racter and aims. One evening, which Tom 
 remembered long afterwards, on account of the 
 influence it was destined to have upon his life, 
 Jung Bahadoor invited him to a pavilion in the 
 palace where he often spent his evenings. To 
 the young heir their conversation was pecuharly 
 interesting, although he did very httle of the 
 talking. Over his long hookah, which induced 
 a meditative vein, the great minister recalled
 
 192 THE kajah's heir 
 
 scene after scene out of the past — a past in 
 whicli the late rajah of Gumilcund's name often 
 figured. Tom heard of his cousin's wealth and 
 magnificence, of his fine personaHty, of the 
 adoration felt for him by his people. ' I believe,' 
 said Jung Bahadoor, ' that they refuse to believe 
 in his death.' 
 
 As he spoke he was looking at Tom absently. 
 All at once his expression became tense and 
 significant. ' What is the exact relationship 
 between you and the late rajah? ' he said. 
 
 Before that question could be answered 
 Gambler Singh, captain of the king's bodyguard, 
 who was frequently the bearer of messages from 
 the court to the chief minister, and had the 
 privilege of entering unannounced, came out on 
 t]ie pavilion. Seeing the minister engaged in 
 conversation, he was about to dehver his missive 
 and retire when, catching a full view of Tom's 
 face, he pulled up short. 
 
 * What ails my friend Gambler Singh ? ' said 
 Jung Bahadoor. 
 
 Eecovering his presence of mind in a mo- 
 ment the young Ghoorka captain turned to 
 Jung Bahadoor's guest, and saluted him rever- 
 ently. 
 
 ' The sahib must forgive the mistake of his 
 servant,' he said ; ' but by my head it is a
 
 A VISIT TO JUXG BAHADOOR 193 
 
 wonderful likeness. I thought the dead had 
 come to hfe.' 
 
 ' My guest is the heir of our friend the good 
 rajah of Gumilcund,' said Jung Bahadoor. ' I 
 was myself struck with the likeness, though, 
 strange to say ' — turning to Tom — ' I did not 
 observe it till this moment.' 
 
 ' The rajah was my friend and father. I 
 salute his successor,' said Gambler Singh, mak- 
 ing another deep salaam as he withdrew. 
 
 But his curiosity and interest were too 
 strongly aroused to be thus easily satisfied. 
 Late that evening, when Tom was resting in his 
 tent, he introduced himself, making many apolo- 
 gies for the intrusion. A long conversation, of 
 the deepest interest to them both, followed, and 
 when they parted, somewhere about the small 
 hours of the morning, they sliook hands after 
 the kindly English fashion, and exchanged pro- 
 mises of undying friendship. 
 
 Tom spent a week in and about Katmandu, 
 enjoying Gambler Singh's friendship and the 
 hospitaUty of the palace. Then he began to 
 think that he ought to be on the move. He 
 was actually making arrangements for a start, 
 writing letters and studying maf)s by the light 
 of a lantern which swung from the pole of his 
 tent, when one evening Gambler Singh, whose 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 194 THE kajah's heir 
 
 invitation to an evening of revels he had just 
 declined, strode in. The flash in his eyes and 
 the abruptness of his movements showed that 
 he was labouring under strong excitement. 
 ' Have you heard the news ? ' he said, before 
 Tom could speak. 
 
 ' No ; I have heard nothing. What has 
 happened ? ' 
 
 Gambler Singh answered with a question. 
 'I am told,' he said, 'that you a;re leaving 
 us?' 
 
 ' Have I not told you so myself? ' said Tom. 
 ' I must go soon, or I shall be tempted to stay 
 with you for ever.' 
 
 The young Captain bowed himself and 
 pressed his palms together. 'Sahib, my friend 
 and brother,' he said, ' if you are happy with us, 
 as you say, let me beseech you to remain. We 
 are peaceful, and the Ghoorka soldier, if savage 
 to his foes, will be true to his salt. Over there,' 
 and he pointed across the mountains, ' there 
 will be wild work soon.' 
 
 'What do you mean? What has hap- 
 pened ? ' cried Tom, springing to his feet. 
 
 ' I mean, my brother, that the revolt has 
 begun.' 
 
 ' Eevolt ! When ? Where ? Speak to me 
 plainly I entreat of you.'
 
 A VISIT TO JUXG BAHADOOR 195 
 
 He was pale to the very lips. In that instant 
 of time, while the dim mountain range which 
 a few days before he had crossed so joyfully, 
 frowned down upon him like a fortress, a hun- 
 dred torturing images pressed upon his brain. 
 The family-circle at Meerut, the General who 
 would trust his soldiers to the death, gentle 
 Lady Elton and the girls, Grace, wandering 
 Heaven only knew where, reckless Vivien fling- 
 ing her defiance at the crowd of Asiatics, his 
 friends of the voyage, Mrs. Lyster, tender little 
 Aglaia — what would become of them all if this 
 dreadful thing were true ? Oh ! for wings to 
 carry him over the mountains, that he might 
 see with his own eyes what was going on ! In 
 the meantime, Gambler Singh's voice, which was 
 much calmer than it had been, came to him as 
 if from a great distance. 
 
 ' Let my brother compose himself. It has 
 only begun. The Xorth and Xorth-West are at 
 peace.' 
 
 ' Thank God ! ' 
 
 ' But,' went on the young Captain, ' it is a 
 hollow peace. Of this my master is assured. 
 If your rulers are prompt, if they crush out 
 the insurrection with an iron hand, there may 
 still be peace, for the loyal will be strengthened, 
 and the discontented will fear to rise. If not, 
 
 2
 
 196 THE rajah's heir 
 
 the torch of rebelhon will flame out fiercely. 
 From province to province it will be carried, 
 and the wild heart of the Asiatic, which dis- 
 cipline has kept down but not subdued, will 
 take fire and leap out in rapine and murder.' 
 Then, in a few w^ords, he told the story of the 
 mutiny of Berhampore. It was ominous, but not 
 nearly so dreadful as Tom had imagined. He 
 began to breathe more freely. • Are you sure 
 there is nothing more ? ' he said. ' You are not 
 keeping anything from me ? ' 
 
 ' No, by my master's head ! But is it not 
 bad enough ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, it is bad. Still it is a warning. The 
 evil cannot have gone very deeply yet. We 
 have time before us.' 
 
 ' Who knows? ' said Gambler Singh, shaking 
 his head ; and he added, ' My brother will stay 
 with us till the storm blows over ! ' 
 
 Tom paused for a moment, then turned his 
 face, which was as white as death, to his com- 
 panion. ' I cannot,' he said, ' a fire is consum- 
 ing me. What it is, or whence it comes, I 
 cannot tell, but I know that it will not let me 
 rest. See, do not hold me back ! I must recross 
 the mountains. I must know what is happening. 
 I must see the terror with my own eyes.' His
 
 A VISIT TO JUNG BAHADOOE 197 
 
 voice sank, and then, in a moment, rose again, 
 shrill and penetrating, ' I must save my people,' 
 he cried, and fell back fainting into the arms of 
 his friend.
 
 198 THE kajah's heir 
 
 CHAPTEE Xin 
 
 LUCK^^OW AND SIR HEXRY LAWRENCE 
 
 It is early in the morning. The golcJen dawn is 
 breaking over the eastern hills, and the awful 
 snow-peaks of Himala shine hke the gates of 
 Heaven, when, in the pathetic dream of earth's 
 children, they rise before the eyes that have 
 looked upon the river of death. Here and there 
 some lower point, leaping up from the confused 
 mountain-world, has caught the glory of the 
 morning, and stands forth, a pale herald of the 
 full glad day ; but the valleys, with all their 
 wealth of corn-fields, forests, and clustering 
 villages, are in the deepest shadow. 
 
 They are the valleys we have just left, for 
 we are on Sisagarhi again. A single tent is 
 pitched here, but coolies are already busy 
 loosening its cords, while the four small horses 
 tethered close by are sniffing the morning air 
 and neighing loudly. This, with the grunting 
 of the camels as they kneel to be laden, and the
 
 LUCKXOW AND SIR HEXRY LAWRENCE 199 
 
 harsh guttural cries of their drivers, breaks 
 discordantly on the stillness of the morning. 
 
 The two young men who have been occupy- 
 ing the tent, and who are standing outside, 
 watching with full hearts the preparations for 
 departure, walk away together to a quieter spot. 
 For a few moments they stand silent, gazing out 
 upon the world of mountains. Then the taller 
 of the two holds out his hand, which the other 
 grasps. 
 
 ' I have much to thank you for, Gambler 
 Singh,' he says, in the Oordoo dialect. 'You 
 have been a brother to me. I wonder when we 
 shall meet again.' 
 
 ' I think we shall meet before long,' says the 
 young soldier, whose dark eyes gleam trium- 
 phantly in the morning light. ' My masters 
 think that our help may be called for down 
 below there. If it is so, I shall be given a com- 
 mand. We Ghoorkas will stand face to face 
 with the proud Brahmin warriors who despise 
 us and defeat them. Then my brother will seek 
 me out, and we will tell over again the dreams 
 we have dreamed in our valley.' 
 
 ' They may not always be dreams,' says the 
 young Indian, and, after a pause, ' You are sure 
 my disguise is good ? ' 
 
 ' It is no disguise. This is your true dress.
 
 200 THE eajah's heir 
 
 This is your true character. If my brother had 
 heard his own words when the fever was in his 
 blood he would hesitate no longer. But the 
 morning is advancing. Let us eat together 
 before we part.' 
 
 ' You will eat with me ! ' says the otlier in 
 surprise. 
 
 ' I am not a Brahmin,' answers the soldier. 
 ' Have I not told you, besides, that you are one 
 of us ? ' 
 
 They retrace their steps in silence, and, while 
 the laden camels move off, partake together of 
 the rice and kecheri, and chupatties which 
 Hoosanee has been preparing for them, pledging 
 one another, after the Encflish fashion, in a crlass 
 of Persian sherbet. Then Gambler Singh rises. 
 
 ' I would I could go with you,' he says, ' but 
 I know it canuot be. Before we part tell me 
 plainly what you will do.' 
 
 ' Yes ; I will tell you,' says Tom. ' I have 
 been thinking all night, and it is only this morn- 
 ing that I have made up my mind. I intended 
 to spend this summer in travelling. I wished to 
 be more fully informed about the country before 
 I presented myself to the people in Gumilcund 
 as the successor of Byrajee Pirtha Eaj. Then, 
 again, I thought I would go to Meerut, warn 
 ray people there, and pass on the advice which
 
 LUCKNOW AND SIR HENRY LAWRENCE 201 
 
 Jung Bahadoor has given to me. But it has 
 come to me that my words will be, in their ears, 
 as empty tales. Beside, there are many of our 
 soldiers there, so that they could surely hold 
 their own in any rising. It would be well also, 
 in case of the crisis you fear, that I should be in 
 Gumilcund and should have made the acquaint- 
 ance of her people beforehand. In this way, I 
 shall be better able to guide her safely, and it is 
 just possible that her loyalty may be of service 
 to the State. Therefore I have decided to go to 
 Gumilcund at once, trying by the way to pick 
 up what intelligence I can. Hoosanee, who 
 knows the road, will guide me. The people, I 
 believe, will accept me for the sake of him who 
 has gone from them. If it is so, I will stay in 
 their city watching the course of events.' 
 
 ' Should it be as we fear,' said Gambler 
 Singh, ' what will you do ? ' 
 
 'I cannot tell yet. I must be guided by 
 circumstances.' 
 
 ' Promise me not to expose yourself unneces- 
 sarily.'* 
 
 ' Unnecessarily ? No ! ' 
 
 ' But ' 
 
 ' My friend,' says Tom, holding out his hand, 
 with a winning smile ; ' it is impossible for me 
 to say more. Before both of us the future is
 
 202 THE rajah's HEIR 
 
 invisible. God has willed it so. Farewell ! I 
 dare not stay. Here or there we shall meet 
 again.' 
 
 ' May the Gods grant it ! ' says Gambier 
 Singh. 
 
 And then he throws himself into his friend's 
 arms, embraces him with tears, mounts his 
 horse, and turns to ride down the hill. 
 
 Tom meanwhile, with many a backward look 
 at the retreating figure, goes off slowly in the 
 opposite direction. 
 
 And so the Rajah's Heir entered upon his 
 next important journey. I find, by referring to 
 his diary, which is my chief source of informa- 
 tion, that although wearisome and full of perils, 
 it was not without interest, and even enjoyment. 
 He was much calmer, for he had laid out his 
 plans for the near future, and the conflict be- 
 tween the old life and the new, that had helped 
 to aggravate his illness, was over. Whether the 
 fantastic belief of his Eastern friends was true, 
 or whether having, as he now believed, blood of 
 the East in his veins, the life and doctrines of 
 the Indian sages did really, in some strange way, 
 appeal to him, he did not ask himself. The 
 result was the same. He was actually, for the 
 time, an Oriental amongst Orientals. 
 
 The season was advancing. When he left
 
 LUCKXOW AXD SIR HENRY LAWRENCE 203 
 
 the hill region and entered upon the plains he 
 found the heat almost insupportable ; but tlie 
 deadly Terai was healthier than it had been a 
 month before, when it was still reeking with the 
 vaporous distilments left behind by the mid- 
 winter rains, and they did not experience much 
 discomfort in crossing it. 
 
 The chief object of his journey being to find 
 out as much as possible of the state of the 
 country, he determined when they touched upon 
 the borders of Oude to turn aside from the 
 direct route and visit Lucknow, the capital of 
 the province. 
 
 Oude was at tliat moment in a critical con- 
 dition, and Lucknow was a perfect hotbed of 
 agitation. The lately installed Commissioner, 
 Sir Henry Lawrence, was indeed strugghng 
 manfully with the task of reconcilement and 
 reorganisation, and if a crisis could have been 
 averted, his was the only hand that could have 
 done it. But it was not to be. He had come 
 into his duties too late. Fanatics, suffered to 
 flourish unchecked, had poisoned the minds of 
 the people. Misunderstandings that might have 
 been explained, little grievances that might 
 have been removed, had given weight to their 
 words and fuel to the smouldering fire of dis- 
 loyalty, and now not even Sir Henry Lawrence,
 
 204 THE rajah's HEIR 
 
 keen and far-seeing as lie was, had any idea of 
 the depth and extent of the disaffection. As 
 for Tom, when he crossed the Goomtee, and saw 
 the beautiful city, with its splendid palaces and 
 mosques, lying spread out before him, still and 
 beautiful as a dream, in the evening's golden 
 crlow, he could scarcely brins^ himself to believe 
 that its peace was dangerously threatened. 
 
 Mounted on one of the elephants which 
 Hoosanee had bought for him in Oude, and 
 clothed in the richest Oriental dress, he rode 
 through the city and its environs. Through 
 the English quarter he passed hastily. He had 
 been warned not to betray himself; but the 
 sight of his countrymen and countrywomen 
 takincf their walks and drives was almost too 
 much for his resolution. He had an insane 
 lonsfinf? to hasten back to his tent, throw off his 
 
 (TO ' 
 
 Oriental garb, and mix amongst them as an 
 English gentleman. In the native town he was 
 received, much to his surprise, with every de- 
 monstration of respect. As, mounted on his 
 royal beast, with two syces, dressed in gay 
 clothes, runnipg before him to clear the way, he 
 passed through the narrow crowded streets, 
 many left their work and bowed themselves 
 reverently to the ground. 
 
 Gradually the crowd increased. Strange
 
 LUCKXOW AXD SIR HE^'RY LAWRE.NX'E 205 
 
 « 
 
 rumours flew from mouth to mouth. The 
 agitators had promised the people a leader — a 
 deliverer. Was this comely youth the leader 
 they were to look for ? It was Avhispered that 
 he was ; and, before lie had reached the centre 
 of the town, it was choked, as far as he could 
 see, with swaying figures and eager, expectant 
 faces. Xever in his life had Tom beheld such a 
 scene It was a sea of humanity, in which he 
 felt himself swallowed up. In terror lest some 
 of the crowd should be trampled by the feet of 
 the monster he rode, he stood up and cried 
 out frantically to the driver to stop, and to the 
 syces to clear his way. 
 
 As he stood, raised high above their heads, 
 the confused cries of the multitude seemed to 
 gather themselves into one cry, which echoed 
 like thunder through the streets of the city. 
 ' Speak to us ! ' From a thousand throats it 
 rang out simultaneously — passionate — imploring 
 — a herd of helpless creatures asking to be led. 
 ' Speak to us ! Speak to us ! ' 
 
 Then a single voice, winged with menace as 
 well as entreaty, rose above the others. ' Will 
 not my lord speak to us ? ' Again it rolled forth 
 like the growl of a wild beast whose prey is 
 escaping him, ' Speak ! speak ! ' 
 
 Tom's uneasiness was increasing every mo-
 
 206 THE rajah's heir 
 
 ment. What should he do ? To speak might 
 have been to betray himself and to provoke a 
 disturbance that he would give his life to avert. 
 Yet every moment's delay made the danger of 
 an accident more imminent. Hoosanee, who 
 was riding close behind, came forward. ' For 
 shame,' he cried out to the people. ' Will you 
 presume to dictate to my lord ? And what 
 think you, that he will break the vow which 
 does him honour, and tell his designs to such as 
 you ? Wait patiently, each one in his place, and 
 you shall see what shall be ! ' 
 
 There was a moment's pause, for the people 
 of an Asiatic crowd are easily put down ; but 
 all could not hear the words of the speaker, 
 who, after all, was only the prince's servant, and 
 presently the tumult began again. 
 
 Tom was in despair. He looked back to 
 Hoosanee. Should he try to quiet them with 
 quiet words ; but what could he say — he who 
 was a stranger amongst them ? Hoosanee's 
 agonised face gave him no help ; but help came. 
 All in an instant, and mysteriously, the crowd 
 thinned aAvay. It had flashed, hke an electric 
 current, through the city, that one known to the 
 people — a prophet, who, under pretence of 
 stirring up a rehgious revival, had been detected 
 preaching sedition in the towns and cities of
 
 LUCKXOW AXD SIR HENRY LAWREXCE 207 
 
 Glide, and shut up, had escaped from his prison 
 and was now making his way in disguise to the 
 place where the city malcontents had been 
 accustomed to meet him. This was a vast 
 underground tank and gallery, which, being 
 approached through one of the most sacred of 
 the Hindoo temples, was safe from the prying 
 eyes of Europeans. Thither flocked the greater 
 number of the people who had been blocking 
 Tom's way ; but many a backward look was 
 cast at the royal youth, as, his eyes fixed and 
 his brow sombre with thought, he was carried 
 slowly through the throng which remained. 
 
 ' Your Excellency has found favour in their 
 sight. They would make him a leader,' said 
 Hoosanee, when, an hour later, they were rest- 
 ing thankfully in camp. 
 
 'Why did my cousin die?' cried Tom, 
 bitterly, ' or why was I brought up in ignorance 
 of the people amongst whom my lot was to be 
 cast ? If I had known a little more ; if I had 
 been sure of myself, I might have spoken to 
 them, and they might have heard me, and the 
 destruction which is coming upon my people 
 might, perhaps, have been averted.' 
 
 ' Let his Excellency have patience,' said 
 Hoosanee, soothingly. ' He is learning every 
 day.'
 
 208 THE EAJAfl's HEIR 
 
 That night Tom wrote to his mother. He 
 had written in the same strain before, but never 
 so earnestly. ' I beseech you,' he wrote, ' not 
 for my sake alone, but for the sake of others, to 
 lift, if you can, the veil of secrecy which covers 
 our past. I am certain — how I dare not tell 
 you — that I. belong to this people, and I believe 
 it is by birth; and, .if so, I am passionately 
 anxious to know the nature of the tie. Pardon 
 me, dearest mother ! I know how strongly you 
 feel on this subject, and, but for dire necessity, 
 I would not vex you by alluding to it. Say to 
 me, once for all, that there is no kinship, by 
 birth, between us and the East, and I will 
 trouble you no more. I will be content to 
 believe that there exists between me and this 
 people a mysterious spiritual affinity. If, on the 
 other hand, there is such a tie — if, through you 
 or through my father, I draw my origin as I 
 inherit my wealth from the East, it is time that 
 I should know it.' 
 
 The letter written, he thought he would go 
 out again and see the city by night. Wrapped 
 in a long white chuddah, and attended by 
 Hoosanee, he left his tent, which was pitched 
 near the Martiniere palace, on the banks of the 
 Goomtee, and, after going through several nar- 
 row lanes, entered a broad road lined with
 
 LUCKXOW AXD SIR HENRY l.AWRENCE 209 
 
 palaces and gardens and En owlish bungalows. 
 The gates leading up to one of the palaces lay 
 open, and its courtyard, with the windows and 
 balconies above, were streaming with light from 
 innumerable candles and oil lamps. Having 
 sent Hoosanee to inquire what was going on, 
 Tom heard that it was a tomasha, or entertain- 
 ment, given by the English to one another. 
 Hoosanee intimated further that there would 
 presently be a crowd of native men, and en- 
 treated his young master not to run the risk 
 of detection by lingering amongst them. This, 
 however, was precisely what the wilful young 
 fellow meant to do ; so Hoosanee, seeing that 
 resistance was useless, stood back, while his 
 master placed himself in the front rank of the 
 crowd that were gathering together to see the 
 show. 
 
 Presently carriages began to roll up. The 
 night being clear and beautiful, most of them 
 set down their loads at the gates. Tom could 
 in many cases not only see his compatriots, but 
 hear their voices. All of them seemed to be 
 gay and light of heart. The scraps of talk 
 which fell upon his ear were of the dance that 
 evening, and of a concert and amateur theatri- 
 cals that were coming off soon. Once he heard 
 a high shrill voice exclaim, * Provision the Resi- 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 THE EAJAH's heir 
 
 dency ? What nonsense I But Sir Henry can't 
 be in earnest ; ' and another, a man's voice, 
 answered, ' I can only say that I heard it. Pre- 
 posterous, of course. If we want a revolt, the 
 surest way to have it is to show that we distrust 
 the people.' 
 
 That pair swept past him — a young English 
 officer in uniform and a dashing, handsome 
 young woman. Then came a sensation in the 
 crowd. Many heads were bowed ^ reverently, 
 and a mingled cry — of adoration from some, 
 and of contempt and defiance from others — 
 broke forth. The excitement was caused by 
 the arrival of the Chief Commissioner, Sir Henry 
 Lawrence, whose carriage, drawn by four hand- 
 some little horses, preceded by outriders and 
 followed by a native guard, was coming slowly 
 along the street. 
 
 There was abundance of light from lanterns 
 swung on poles above the road and flaming 
 torches carried by footmen. Tom looked out 
 and saw a picture which he will never forget. 
 The chief — his lean, soldierly figure wasted with 
 anxiety for the people whom, as he fervently be- 
 lieved, God Himself had committed to his charge ; 
 his face, that face which to see was to love, 
 strong, yet curiously tender, deeply seared with 
 lines that told of such spiritual conflicts as
 
 LUCKNOW AXD SIR HEXEY LAWRENCE 211 
 
 shake the soul to its depths ; with mobile lips, 
 round which a smile, half humorous and half 
 melancholy, was hovering ; and deep-set eyes 
 that looked out steadily from under massive 
 brows — was before him, and instinctively he 
 bowed his head ; he knew that he was in the 
 presence of a hero. So far he had seen no one 
 else in the carriage, he had eyes only for the 
 chief ; but as it swung round to enter the gates 
 of the courtyard he became suddenly aware of 
 another presence — ' Grace Elton ! ' Wildly his 
 heart throbbed as, in the disguise which it 
 would have been the height of imprudence to 
 throw off, he saw close in front of him the 
 woman he loved. She was sitting back in the 
 carriage, her eyes, pensive as ever, fixed medi- 
 tatively on Sir Henry. She seemed to have been 
 speaking, for her lips were half parted, and it 
 appeared to him as if a shadow rested on the 
 face whicli, with its divine expression of seraphic 
 purity, was so infinitely dear to him. 
 
 A moment, and the vision was gone, and lie 
 saw Hoosanee at his elbow, looking grave and 
 disconcerted. He told him that he was beino- 
 noticed, and implored him by all that was sacred 
 to come on. 
 
 ' Have I a European dress with me ? ' said 
 Tom, as they moved away. 
 
 p 2
 
 212 THE eajah's heie 
 
 ' Not one,' answered Hoosanee. ' My lord 
 will remember that the baggage-waggons were 
 left behmd us.' 
 
 ' But you might have kept out one. I would 
 give all I possess to be able to go into that ball- 
 room to-mght ' 
 
 Hoosanee liesitated. ' My master might go 
 in native dress,' he said, 'if he would not betray 
 himself.' 
 
 ' Would it be possible ? ' 
 
 ' It would be easy, my lord. Other Indians 
 of rank have gone in. If my lord gives in his 
 name as the Eajah of Gumilcund, and presents a 
 largesse to the door-keeper, he will ceriainly be 
 admitted.' 
 
 The result was as Hoosanee had predicted. 
 When, an hour later, Tom was borne in a palan- 
 quin to the gates of the palace, his embroidered 
 robe and gorgeous turban, with the magnificent 
 fee he presented to the door-keeper, gained him 
 immediate respect. No httle to his embarrass- 
 ment, he was taken straight to the dais on 
 whicli sat the Commissioner, surrounded by 
 English offiv:ers and grandees of Oude. After 
 the first sh(;ck, however, he played his part 
 correctly. Sir Henry, supposing him to be an 
 accredited guest, received him graciously, and 
 conversed with him for a few moments. Then,
 
 LUCKNOW^ AND SIR HENRY LAWRENCE 213 
 
 feeling glad the ordeal was over, he stepped 
 down and set himself to w^atch the dancers. 
 
 With a face like a mask — for he had learned 
 the trick of Oriental passivity — Tom moved 
 about the hall. He was in search of Grace, 
 whom he saw presently dancing in a waltz with 
 an elderly civilian. After they had danced two 
 rounds her partner led her to a seat. Tom 
 passed them, making a low salute, and then 
 stood back, as near as he dared, with liis face 
 averted lest Grace should recognise him. Her 
 light whisper penetrated to where he stood. 
 
 ' Who is that Indian ? ' she asked. 
 
 ' I really can't tell you,' answered her com- 
 panion, ' which is a little curious, for I know all 
 the natives of distinction hereabouts. He was 
 certainly not at the last durbar. I must ask Sir 
 Henry about him.' 
 
 ' I should like to know,' said Grace. ' He 
 has a fine face ' 
 
 ' For a native,' broke in her partner. 
 
 ' For a native, if you will ; and do you know, 
 it strikes me that 1 have seen it before.' 
 
 Here it occurred to Tom that he w^as doing a 
 mean thing, and he moved away. 
 
 The next time he saw Grace she was taking 
 her place in a quadrille, in the company of a 
 young and very handsome cavalry officer. Tom
 
 214 THE eajah's heir 
 
 did not feel quite so comfortable as lie bad done, 
 but he held his peace. While they waited for 
 the other couples to come her partner was pro- 
 testin<z with her earnestly. 
 
 ' You will break all our hearts,' he said. 
 
 ' Then somebody else must mend them,' 
 answered Grace. 
 
 ' But, seriously, why are you going ? Do 
 you think it will be safer at Meerut .^ ' 
 
 ' I am not going to Meei'ut.' 
 
 ' Not ? I thought your home was there.' 
 
 ' So it is ; but T have promised to pay a visit 
 to Nowgong.' 
 
 ' Eeally ! Such an out-of-the-way station. 
 Excuse me ; but are you wise ? ' 
 
 ' Wise or not,' said Grace, her every word 
 falling clearly on the ears of the tall Indian in 
 the background who did not think it wrong to 
 listen now, ' I am bound to go. My poor 
 little cousin — you will remember her, by the bye ; 
 she mar lied Captain Eichardson ' 
 
 'Yes; I remember — a muff! I beg your 
 pardon. Miss Elton. I mean the gentleman, not 
 the lady. She was an angel. I hope nothing is 
 wrong with her.' 
 
 ' I hope not, too ; but we have been re- 
 ceiving rather miserable letters lately, and 
 Uncle is going to see her, and I have promised to
 
 LUCKXOW AXD SIR HEXKY LAWREXCE 215 
 
 go with him, and stay with poor httle Lucy for a 
 week or two.' 
 
 The quadrille had at last been got together, 
 and Grace and her partner were called to atten- 
 tion ; but the Indian had heard enough. When 
 the dance was over he left the hall.
 
 216 THE kajah's heir 
 
 CHAPTEE XIY 
 
 A MODEL STATE 
 
 Acting on the urgent rf^commendation of 
 Hoosanee, who saw reason to fear for his 
 master's safety, should he continue any longer 
 in this dangerous locality, Tom and his servants 
 left the neighbourhood of Lucknow early the 
 next morning. Two days' march of a perfectly 
 uneventful character brought them to the Eng- 
 lish port and station of Futtehgur. There they 
 crossed the Ganges and travelled on quietly over 
 roads shaded with acacia, pipul, and cork trees, 
 into the wide and fertile plains of Central India. 
 Gumilcund was included within the bounds of 
 what was called the Central Indian Agency, a 
 district more or less under the Company's con- 
 trol. Like several other small native states that 
 lay clustered together in this region, and that 
 formerly had lived a Hfe of pillage and inter- 
 necine warfare, it had acknowledged the Britisli 
 as the paramount power, and an English resident
 
 A MODEL STATE 217 
 
 had been accredited to its court. The govern- 
 ment of the httle State had, however, been so 
 wise, just, and beneficent, that the position of 
 the Eesident was a mere sinecure. During the 
 late reign his chief function had been to supply 
 the rajah, whom he, in common with the rest 
 of tie world, admired and revered, with Euro- 
 pean society. 
 
 There were few amongst the English who did 
 not enjoy a visit to Gumilcund. The courtesy 
 and urbanity of the rajah, in whose manners 
 the grace of the Asiatic and the simple dignity 
 of the well-bred Englishman seemed to meet, 
 with the novelty of the life to which he intro- 
 duced his own and the Eesident's guests, made 
 the city popular. Some said that nowhere on 
 the face of the earth was there a place to com- 
 pare with it. Such statements, no doubt, 
 savoured of extravagance ; but Gumilcund did 
 certainly possess certain advantages that are not 
 to be met with elsewhere. For fifty years — ever 
 since the son of Sir Anthony Bracebridge was 
 given tlie title and dignity of rajah — it may be 
 said to have been governed by one man, for 
 although in that period son had succeeded to 
 father, the ideas of the two, with regard to 
 government, were practically identical. 
 
 The first rajah was a man of experience. He
 
 218 THE kajah's heir 
 
 knew not only the barbarities of Indian social 
 life, but also the plague-spots of Western civiliza- 
 tion. He was, moreover, a strong man. When 
 he undertook to weld the chaos of the State that 
 had been given to him to govern into the ideal 
 til at hved in his imagination, every one of his 
 measures, planned out beforehand with dehber- 
 ateness, was carried through' unflinchingly. He 
 had wealth, which was one great factor in his 
 success. He had besides — and this quality his 
 son inherited — a power over men almost amount- 
 ing to fascination. Eeforms which, if intro- 
 duced by any other ruler, would have certainly 
 induced rebelhon, were accepted from him with- 
 out a murmur. When, after an unusually long 
 reign, he left the State to his son, it was already 
 well started on the path of progress. 
 
 The reign of the second rajah was no less 
 fortunate than that of the first, while his wealth, 
 which w^as drawn from other tlian Indian 
 sources, continued to increase. 
 
 His life, as we know, was cut short by an 
 assassin, a man from a neighbouring State, who 
 translated into this violent deed the jealousy felt 
 by many of the outlying peoples of the pros- 
 perity attained by Gumilcund under those who 
 were spoken of far and near as her foreign 
 rulers.
 
 A MODEL STATE 210 
 
 To the immediate friends and followers of 
 the rajah his death was a terrible blow. They 
 honoured him as a master : they loved him as a 
 friend : they had been looking forward to the 
 wonderful things which he would do in the 
 future, and, in him, all their hopes were crushed ; 
 but, so far as the State was concerned, his work 
 was done. Any one of the wise men he had 
 been training could have governed it now, for 
 every one within its borders was aware of the 
 exceptional advantages of their position. And 
 in fact, there existed at that time in Gumilcund 
 such a social order as was scarcely to be found 
 elsewhere. The State was prosperous, for all its 
 resources had been wisely developed, and this 
 prosperity was felt in every corner. There was 
 no seam}' side in Gumilcund. The back slums 
 and dismal alleys that lie hidden in the centre 
 of our own great Western towns were not to be 
 found in its bright httle capital. Idleness and beg- 
 gary did not thrive in its streets, and they had 
 long ago departed to find a home elsewhere. 
 There were no intoxicants, and therefore there 
 was little crime. Everyone who chose to work 
 could find work to do ; so, although there were 
 inequalities of condition, there was no grinding 
 poverty. Oppressive acts of any kind being 
 promptly discovered and punished, the people
 
 220 THE rajah's heir 
 
 had become tired of practising them. The 
 women, too, were freer than in other parts of 
 India, for although here, as elsewhere, they 
 were shrouded in the graceful saree, they could 
 move about the city at their pleasure. Taking 
 it altogether, the State presented a curious ex- 
 ample of what can be done by one-man govern- 
 ment, when the people are pliable and the rulers 
 wise and enhghtened. 
 
 Of course such results could never have 
 been reached had it not been for the tranquillity 
 which the power of the British name, and the 
 authority of her rulers, had given the district. 
 In former days the very prosperity and quiet- 
 ness of the little State would have attracted 
 towards it the hostility of its neighbours, which, 
 indeed, the disastrous death of the late rajah 
 proved. He had never been slow to recognize 
 his obligation to the Paramount Power and to 
 impress it upon his people ; and this, combined 
 it may be with the circumstance that the Eng- 
 lish had never been their actual rulers, but often 
 their guests, was the cause of the love, amount- 
 ing, in many cases, to reverence, with which 
 English men and women were regarded in the 
 city and territory of Gumilcund. 
 
 The sympathy was mutual. Little Gumil-
 
 A MODEL STATE 221 
 
 cund was tenderly regarded by the English. 
 Even Lord Dalhousie, the great annexer, when 
 the rajah wrote to him, that, being without heirs 
 he had adopted a son, Avho, with the permission 
 of the Governor-General, would succeed him, 
 could not find it in his heart to decree the 
 separation of Gumilcund from her native rulers. 
 Had he known that the heir was, to all intents 
 and purposes, an Englishman, the decision might 
 have been different ; but the rajah, in his letter, 
 had given Tom the title which he would assume 
 were his heirship to the estate recognised, 
 stating that he was being trained and educated 
 in England, and it was allowed to remain an 
 open question. Under the Enghsh Eesident the 
 rajah's heir should govern the State, and if his 
 rule proved as beneficent as that of his pre- 
 decessors, his title would be confirmed. — If, on 
 the other hand, he acted as so many young 
 rajahs had done when they came to the supreme 
 power, the rule would be taken from him and 
 vested in an English Governor. So the Governor- 
 General decreed, and then, having weightier 
 matters to dispose of, he dismissed Gumilcund 
 from his mind. Little could he have imagined 
 that, in days to come, it would prove a bulwark 
 of the dominion, wliich he had taken so much
 
 222 THE rajah's heir 
 
 pains to build up, and a refuge, sorely needed 
 for his distressed fellow-country people, in the 
 midst of a hostile rebellious continent. 
 
 Eeturning from this digression, which was 
 necessary if Ave would understand the position 
 of the little State, the government of which our 
 venturous young Englishman had come over to 
 assume, I must briefly follow his further move- 
 ments. He marched on quietly, for there was 
 nothing to indicate that the convulsion which 
 his friends had predicted w^as close at hand, and 
 though he wished to reach Gumilcund, he was 
 not in the least impatient. 
 
 Day after day, in this smiling tract of country, 
 the same prospect met him. There were fields 
 of green paddy and rustling sugar-cane, and 
 sheets of feathery dal, with which the large blue- 
 green leaves of the castor-oil plant contrasted 
 curiously ; and, interspersed with these, were 
 tracts of marsh and jungle, and a few pleasant 
 groves of mango and neem. April had opened. 
 The heat was terrible in the day-time ; but it 
 was a dry heat, and Tom stood it marvellously 
 well. For the most part they travelled 
 at night or very early in the morning. 
 During the forenoon, and in the awful noon- 
 tide, their camp would be pitched either under 
 a huge banyan tree by the wayside — whose dry,
 
 A MODEL STATE ZZd 
 
 thirsty roots were hanging down raggedly to 
 seek the soil, while its glorious over-canopy 
 of leafage made a shelter from the sweltering 
 sunlight — or in a grove on the outskirts of a 
 village or town. Sometimes he slept, but oftener 
 he thought and listened. How silent it was 
 in these noontide hours ! Now and then he 
 w^ould catch a rustle as a lizard or snake crept 
 through the dry grass, or there would be a 
 flutter overhead, where the little Avild birds — 
 parroquets and mynas — sought a precarious 
 shelter, or a scream when some bird of prey 
 swooped down upon them. But for the most 
 part, even the vultures and the hawks, and the 
 hideous flying-foxes, that hung in uncouth bags 
 from the trees, were quiet. Man, meanwhile, 
 was at peace, having no energy even for labour. 
 Through the woods came no ring of hammer or 
 axe ; the tramp of the wanderer had ceased 
 along the road, and long, swathed figures, 
 motionless as the sheeted dead, lay under the 
 trees and in the shadow of walls and houses. 
 The whole earth lay weltering in a fiery bath. 
 With the drawing on of evening there would be 
 movement. Flocks of parroquets would rush 
 out of the tree-tops screaming discordantly : 
 birds of prey would prune their wings and set 
 off slowly, with harsh cries, in search of food ;
 
 224 THE kajah's heir 
 
 and the confused murmur of a restless humanity 
 would begin again. 
 
 Then the rajah's heir would emerge from 
 his shelter, and, while his tent was being taken 
 down, and his camels laden, would stroll into 
 the nearest village There he would often take 
 his seat on the chiboutra, under a spreading 
 tree, where the talkers met together to discuss, 
 over their hookahs, such important matters as 
 the price of grain and cattle. They welcomed 
 him with the grave courtesy of Indians ; but 
 whether they spoke freely in his presence he could 
 not tell. Except in one or two cases, when a 
 Hindoo priest or a Moulvie from a distance had 
 visited the district, he heard nothing which 
 could lead him to suppose that there was any 
 widespread spirit of disaffection, while English 
 magistrates were often spoken of in his presence 
 with a respect bordering on adoration. So he 
 went on towards Gumilcund with an easier 
 mind.
 
 225 
 
 CHAPTER Xy 
 
 THE RAXEE OF JHAXSI 
 
 Amongst the introductions which Tom took with 
 him to India was one to Dinkur Eao, Dewan or 
 Prime Minister at the Court of the Mahratta 
 Prince, Sindia, Maharaja of Gwahor. The 
 Dewan was one of those remarkable men who, 
 at critical times, stand out boldly from their 
 fellows. Subtle of mind and sagacious, and 
 possessing to a degree which, in a full Asiatic, is 
 unusual, the executive talent through which 
 great theories can be brought out in action, he 
 had ali-eady steered the State, to the govern- 
 ment of which he had been summoned when 
 the youthful Maharaja attained his majority, 
 throucfh more than one dangerous crisis. Like 
 Jung Bahadoor, he had fully realised the im- 
 portance to his country of British over-lordship 
 in the peninsula ; and, unlike the Nana, Kunwer 
 Singh, and the host of fanatic priests and 
 prophets, who thought that to exhaust England 
 
 VOL. I. (I
 
 226 THE kajah's heir 
 
 and to drain her of her population would be an 
 easy task, he held firmly to his belief in the 
 strength, no less than the beneficence, of the 
 Paramount Power. 
 
 As regarded his policy, both internal and 
 external, Dinkur Eao might almost be said to 
 have been the pupil of the late Eajah of Gumil- 
 cund ; and although, being hampered by ob- 
 stacles from which that enlightened ruler was 
 free, such as an intriguing court, ' and a young 
 sovereign of unstable mind, who had on one 
 occasion at least deliberately reversed the wise 
 measures of the Dewan and shut him out from 
 his counsels, he could not give to his own people 
 such happiness and security as was enjoyed by 
 the people of Gumilcund, he was able, through 
 the superior position of Gwalior and her larger 
 resources, to exercise a more commanding influ- 
 ence on the pohcy of the nations of Central 
 India than Gumilcund could have done, even if 
 her wise ruler had lived to tide her throuo-h 
 this dangerous crisis. The Dewan had heard of 
 the probable arrival at Gumilcund of the rajah's 
 heir. A certain amount of mystery surrounded 
 him ; but he believed him to be, like his prede- 
 cessors, of mixed blood, and was not, indeed, 
 altogether indisposed to suspect that he was 
 actually the son of the late rajah by an English
 
 THE RAXEE OF JHAX.-^^I 22 < 
 
 mother. As he had loved the fatlier, he was 
 ready and anxious to make the acquaintance 
 of the son. When, therefore, having passed 
 through the cantonments and pitched his camp 
 on an open space outside the native city and 
 fort of Gwahor, Tom sent in a messenger with 
 his letter of introduction and a note from him- 
 self requesting permission to pay his respects to 
 the Maharaja and the Dewan, Dinkur Eao 
 started off, attended by a guard of honour, to 
 meet and welcome him. Then, having received 
 him with Eastern ceremony, he escorted him 
 back to the city, and introduced him to tiie 
 ]\Eaharaja, who set apart rooms in the palace 
 for his use. 
 
 Tom spent three days enjoying the hospi- 
 tality of Gwalior. Before the end of that time, 
 he and the Dewan had become firm friends. In 
 the long nights that they spent together on one of 
 tlie palace balconies, while the Dewan smoked 
 his hookah and looked up meditatively into the 
 starlit sky, Tom unburdened himself of some of 
 the thoughts and feelings that had possessed 
 him since he entered upon his ne^v life. 
 
 He was troubled by his inability to lay out 
 the future. ' I make plans one day,' he said, 
 ' and T change them the next, and I find no firm 
 standing-ground anywhere.' He was troubled 
 
 Q 2
 
 2:^8 THE rajah's heir 
 
 still more by the dual impulses that governed 
 him, aud by the way in which startlingly new 
 thoughts and unbidden imaginations forced 
 themselves upon his mind. ' I thought I knew 
 myself,' he said sadly ; ' but I find that my very 
 will is not my own.' 
 
 The Dewan consoled him. • It is a time of 
 transition with you,' he said. ' The new has not 
 yet accommodated itself with the old. Western 
 ideas, and, if I may venture to say so, Western 
 prejudices, are warring in your mind with the 
 Orientalism which is its true element. You will 
 settle down in time and then you will take the 
 best out of both. Who knows that the Great 
 Spirit may not have decreed that you shall be 
 one of the reconcilers for whom the world is 
 waitino'? Your father, the orreat Bvrajee Pirtha 
 Eaj, of blessed memory, beheved that such would 
 be, and that only then, when the East learned 
 from the West and the West from the East, as 
 now they interchange terrestrial products, would 
 the earth and her long-troubled children enter 
 upon the holy path that leads to spiritual fi'ee- 
 dom.' 
 
 ' And do you think tliis time is near ? ' said 
 Tom, trembling. 
 
 ' Nav,' answered the Dewan, smiling ' I 
 am no prophet. The future is with the gods.'
 
 THE RANEE Of JHANSI 229 
 
 ' But you think that England does well to 
 maintain her power in India ? ' 
 
 ' I know thai in England is our only hope. 
 They are preaching independence to the people,' 
 cried the Dewan, his excitement rising as he 
 spoke. ' Govern yourselves, they say. Be free 
 men I Throw the invaders from the West into 
 the sea ! The fools ! Do they know what they 
 mean ? Are we then one nation in India ? Can 
 we be governed by ourselves ? They know very 
 well that we cannot. There is not one preacher 
 of sedition at this moment who is not well aware 
 that the retreat of the English would introduce 
 a period of anarchy such as even our unhappy 
 country has never known. And how could it 
 be otherwise P ^loslems, Hindustanis, Bengalis, 
 Mahrattas, tSikhs, Punjaubis, Ghoorkas, hill 
 tribes of the north, and hill tribes of the south — 
 we are far more foreigners to one another than 
 French and English, Spaniards and Germans. 
 Which of all these, I ask you, shall govern the 
 others P Who are to be the free and indepen- 
 dent men, and who are to be the slaves P ' 
 
 ' The strongest w^ould come to the front,' 
 said Tom. 
 
 ' Tlie strongest, yes ; and think of the sea 
 of bloodshed and misery through which we 
 should have to wade before that was proved
 
 230 THE EAJAll's IIEiR 
 
 They know it veiy well, these preachers. I 
 caught one, a Moulvie of great sanctity, preach- 
 ing rebellion to my soldiers. Before I sent him 
 to Yama I asked him this question : who is to 
 govern us all, I said, when the English have 
 gone.^ I asked it in the presence of the poor 
 i'ools he had been trying to delude. If he could 
 answer me I said I would spare him. There 
 were three different religions amongst them, and 
 he knew^ that if lie pronounced' for one the 
 votaries of the other would tear him to pieces. 
 So he stood dumb and was led away to death. 
 Xo,' said the Dewan, ' however it may be in 
 the future, those amongst us who are wise know 
 that for the present the Paramount Power is 
 needed. We may regret tlie necessity ; but we 
 should feel gratitude rather than aversion 
 towards the strong hand that, by compelhng 
 our mutual animosities to be still, gives us time 
 for such internal development as can alone 
 make us great and prosperous. That at least is 
 our attitude, and my master will maintain it — 
 of this I am certain. Yes, even if his own 
 soldiers desert him.' 
 
 lii after days, when Sindia and his State were 
 put to the test, Tom remembered those brave 
 words well. 
 
 He paid one more important visit before
 
 THE RANEE OF J H ANSI 231 
 
 going on to Gumilcund. It was to Jhansi, a 
 little state and town lying to the south of 
 Gwalior, which was one of the kingdoms, tribu- 
 tarv now to the Enodish, formed out of the 
 ruins of the Peishwa's dominion after the 
 Mahratta War. The late rajah was the last 
 representative of the reigning family. His 
 widow survived him. She was beautiful, talented, 
 and strong. Her energy and ambition, held all 
 her life long in reserve, were ready to leap forth 
 when the moment for tlieir exercise should come. 
 She would govern the state — she a woman, and 
 govern it as none of the voluptuaries who pre- 
 ceded her had done ! 
 
 Her dream was destined to disappointment. 
 The petition which slie presented to the Para- 
 mount Power praying for the succession, first to 
 herself and after her to her adopted son, was 
 rejected. But the Government of India would 
 not be unjust. A pension should be allotted to 
 the widow of the rajah, and she should be per- 
 mitted to reside in her own palace at Jhansi. 
 
 The Pianee gnashed her teeth. Had Jhansi 
 been strong and rich she would have flung the 
 Governor-General's pension in his face, and dared 
 him to do his worst. As it was she bided her 
 time. Yearning for vengeance with the fierce, 
 concentrated passion of the strong in mind and
 
 232- THE rajah's heir 
 
 helpless in body, she sat at home, brooding over 
 her wrongs, but doing nothing. Her guaranteed 
 income, so petty to her magnificence, was, in the 
 course of time, reduced. The late rajah had" 
 left debts. The present governor refused to 
 settle them. The Eanee stated, mildly enough, 
 her inability to pay. and the governor of the 
 province decreed that her pension 3hould be 
 mulcted of a certain yearly sum until the 
 amount due from the late rajah's estate had 
 been paid. And still the Eanee said nothing. 
 Being too weak to rebel, she was too proud to 
 murmur. But the sore in her spirit grew. 
 Sitting with bowed head in the retirement of her 
 palace, she heard of the worship in Hindoo 
 temples being stopped for lack of funds, of 
 priests and Brahmins wandering homeless 
 through the land, and of kine being slaughtered 
 in the very heart of the stainless city ; but still 
 she made no sign. Then, at last, the year of 
 prophecy, with its strange portents, dawned. 
 Flat cakes, the sacrament of union in life and 
 in death, w^ere carried from village to village. 
 From one to another, through the crowded 
 bazaars and markets, and into the temples de- 
 frauded of their gains, there flew a mysterious 
 whisper of impending change. It penetrated to 
 the palace where the Ranee sat, nursing her
 
 THE KAXEE OF JHAXSI -J^OO 
 
 vengeance, and witb a rapture, such as she had 
 never hoped to know, her darkened spirit leapt 
 to meet it. Destruction — death — torrents of 
 blood — a great dominion established on strength 
 and cemented by terror, passing away for ever. 
 What could it mean but that the hour for which 
 she had so long and so hopelessly craved had 
 come? And now the Eanee put on a smiling 
 face. She welcomed the Enghsli to her palace, 
 and entertained them royally. 'We must bow 
 to the will of the Supreme,' she said, when one 
 and another expressed surprise at her changed 
 attitude. She would even confer gravely witli 
 the English authorities on the emergencies of 
 the time, and recommend measures for their 
 securitv. But all the time she was addincr to 
 her bodyguard, and secretly drawing the discon- 
 tented about her, and exercising her magnetic 
 power of fascination on the troops. 
 
 Such was the state of Jhansi wdien the 
 rajah's heir came knocking at the Eanee's 
 door. 
 
 She had heard of his probable accession, 
 and of his progress through Central India, and 
 she was exceedingly anxious to see him ; as soon, 
 therefore, as he gave in his name he was ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 It was evening, the Eanee's reception-hour.
 
 234 THE rajah's heir 
 
 This the captain of her lately enrolled body- 
 guard, a man of splendid stature and dull, for- 
 bidding face, told the visitor. Following him, 
 he wound his way through some narrow pas- 
 sages, until a heavy curtain before a closed door 
 pulled them up. The captain threw the curtain 
 aside and opened the door, and a curious spec- 
 tacle presented itself to Tom. He was in a large 
 hall, paved and lined with marble, and lighted 
 by beautiful perforated windows, through which 
 streamed softly the golden hght of evening. It 
 fell on a motley crowd, barefooted and dressed 
 in every variety of Eastern costume. 
 
 To Tom's eyes, dazzled by the sudden 
 chancre, there seemed to be nothinor but a con- 
 fusion of swaying forms and faded colours. 
 Halting for a moment to recover himself, he saw 
 that the crowd which was spread thinly over 
 the hall concentrated at its upper end. Thither 
 his conductor led him, the throng parting right 
 and left to allow him free passage. In front of 
 him was a marble dais, raised a few steps above 
 the level of the hall. To this he lifted his eyes 
 and found himself in the immediate presence of 
 a woman of queenly figure. It was the Eanee. 
 He thought, as he looked at her, that he had 
 never seen a finer sight. None, indeed, knew 
 better than the Eanee of Jhansi the efiect of the
 
 THE RAXEE OF JHANSI 235 
 
 senses upon the imagination ; no one has ever 
 been more skilful in use of the arts by which 
 such influence as she desired was won. 
 
 That evening she was dressed in a robe of 
 curiously figured satin and woven gold ; a gauze 
 veil, which softened, but did not hide her proud 
 and beautiful face, was thrown over her, and 
 her seat was a finely carved and gilded chair. 
 
 For an instant the English youth was be- 
 wildered ; in the next he remembered the part 
 he had to play ; while the Captain was recount- 
 ing his name and titles, he prostrated himself 
 reverently. When he hfted his head, he saw 
 that she was standing — a noble figure in her 
 splendid raiment — and making signs to him to 
 approach nearer to her. He mounted the dais, 
 the lady encouraging him by a smile. An 
 attendant, in the meantime, brought forward a 
 low chair, upon which, in obedience to the 
 Eanei's invitation, he seated himself. 
 
 What was to come next? The experience 
 being totally novel, he thought his most prudent 
 course would be to wait. He sat silent, there- 
 fore, feeling conscious in every nerve of the 
 keen and fervent gaze which, from under that 
 silvery veil, was enveloping him. 
 
 ' Are you one of us, my lord ? ' said the 
 Eanee at lenjith.
 
 236. THE eajah's heir 
 
 'I am the slave of her Excellency,' he 
 answered, bending low. 
 
 * I liave many slaves in name,' returned the 
 Eanee, a proud and bitter smile playing about 
 her lips. 
 
 ' Surely her Excellency is unjust to her 
 servants,' said Tom. 
 
 ' You are right. Sir Stranger,' said one who 
 stood by — a ponderous and unwieldy figure of 
 a man, clad in white muslin tunic and crimson 
 sash. 
 
 'Is he, Nawab? ' said the Eanee, a flash of 
 what looked like irony darting from her eyes. 
 ' Then, let me beseech you, who have repeatedly 
 called yourself my slave, to dismiss our friends, 
 and to retire yourself. I would confer with this 
 youth alone.' 
 
 For an instant the Nawab's eyes gleamed 
 ominously, and his fingers played with the hilt 
 of his sword ; but the Eanee's gaze was upon 
 him, and he recovered himself. 'Your Ex- 
 cellency's orders shall be obeyed,' he said. 
 
 He went down into the hall to make her 
 wishes known, whereupon one after another 
 made their salaams ; so that in a few moments 
 the hall was cleared. Our hero, as we shall 
 imagine, was feeling any tiling but easy. What 
 could the Eanee wish to discuss with him
 
 THE RAXEE OF JHAXSI 237 
 
 secretly ? Had she any dangerous designs to 
 communicate, and, if so, how could he — a man 
 in disguise — receive such confidences ? 
 
 The Eanee was too keen not to read the 
 perturbation of his mind ; but not keen enough, 
 fortunately for him, to trace it to its true 
 source. He was impressed, she believed, by her 
 beauty and dignity. This was no new thing to 
 a woman accustomed to homage ; but the youth, 
 fair looks, and ingenuousness of her new ac- 
 quaintance made the incense of his adoration 
 peculiarly sweet. She was unscrupulous, as we 
 know ; where she had wrongs to avenge she 
 could be cruel ; yet she was not without the 
 generosity, which is the redeeming virtue of 
 strong characters. Looking at Tom she formed 
 a hasty resolution. He should not be drawn 
 into the plot they were framing. She would 
 prevent it. He had nothing to avenge. If he 
 threw himself into the quarrel it would be for 
 her sake ; and, in the event of failure, he would 
 lose not his raj only, but his hfe ; while the fear- 
 ful rapture of gratified hatred to which she 
 looked forward as the sweetener of her fall 
 would not exist for him. And so, to Tom's 
 surprise, for the Dewan had begged him to 
 listen with caution to anything the Eanee might 
 have to say, she gave him prudent counsels.
 
 238 THE rajah's heir 
 
 'You have come to us at an uneasy moment,' 
 she said. ' The hearts of the people are hot 
 within them, and none of us knows what may 
 happen. Had I been continued in the govern- 
 ment of my state, I could have led it safely 
 throuorh this difficult time. But it was not to 
 be. The Enghsh are wise, and they have dis- 
 possessed me.' Into her dark eyes there came 
 a i^Jeam of ansrer, and her brows knit themselves 
 fiercely together ; but in a moment she recovered 
 herself. ' What is all that to you ? ' she said. 
 ' You are a stranger. Take the advice of one 
 who wishes you well, and wait and watch. 
 Your state is small. Nothing will be asked of 
 you bv the English. Agitators will be afraid to 
 trouble you. Until you know what turn things 
 will take, you can keep quiet ; and, if you lose 
 your raj, you will preserve your life.' 
 
 Tom was deeply touched by the care for a 
 stranger's safety which these words implied ; 
 but they unloosened his tongue, so that he said 
 unthinkingly, ' You see danger of a rising ? ' 
 
 For fully a minute the Eanee looked at him. 
 She seemed to be searching him through and 
 through. Then her words dropped out slowly, 
 as if hissed through her teeth, ' There will be a 
 rising ; I am certain of it.' 
 
 Everything — her beauty, her kindness, her
 
 THE EAXEE OF JHANSI 239 
 
 solitary position, a woman alone among all these 
 men, and the fearful nature of the crisis to which 
 she looked forward — seemed to rush toc^ether 
 to Tom's brain in one overwhelming tempest 
 cloud of thought. Wild with pity and terror, 
 he flung himself at her feet. ' Gracious lady,' 
 he cried, ' can you do nothing ? Think, in 
 heaven's name ! Do not be angry with me, I 
 beseech you ! It is stronger than I am. I must 
 speak. I have seen your face ; I have listened 
 to your voice with its words of good counsel, 
 and I know its power. Speak you to the mad- 
 men who are stirring up strife. They will — 
 they must listen to you ! ' 
 
 ' You magnify my ability, Sir Eajah,' said 
 the Eanee. 'I am only a poor pensioner of the 
 English.' 
 
 ' You are a queen,' said the boy chokingly. 
 But lie rose to his feet. 
 
 ' I thank you for your good words,' said 
 t1ie Eanee gently. ' They are pleasant to me, 
 and I shall not forget them. But say I did 
 speak, and say my people listened to me, what 
 then ? Will the English give me back the power 
 of which they have robbed me ? Will they atone 
 for the insults offered in their name to our fami- 
 lies and our faith? Will they give us men of 
 our own blood to be our rulers ? I know thev
 
 240 THE rajah's heir 
 
 will not, and I, who, if they had been true tome, 
 would have thrown the whole weight of my 
 influence into their cause, I wipe my hands of 
 them. If those who were once my people 
 revolt — they revolt — what is that to me? I 
 would not lift up my little finger to prevent them.' 
 
 ' But,' said Tom chokingly, being moved 
 t ) the heart, ' you will at least ' 
 
 ' I will listen to you no longer, lest you make 
 me angry. I have warned you, and that is 
 enough. And now tell me about England. I 
 have seen the name of the Island written on 
 one of our maps. It is a small place, but the 
 people must be restless and clever, I hear that 
 they have dominions in other parts of the world, 
 in America and the islands of the sea. How 
 do they defend themselves when their soldiers 
 are scattered ? ' 
 
 ' Your Excellency,' said Tom, sniihng, ' can 
 liave no idea of the power and resources of 
 England. I have lived there since I was a child, 
 so I ought to know. She has cities of vast size 
 and overflowing with people. She has armies 
 to which those you see here are but a handful 
 ready at a moment's notice to be sent to the 
 ends of the earth at her pleasure. She has 
 great Generals — men of nerve and power and 
 endurance — in her service. She has cities of
 
 THE KAXEE OF JHAXST 241 
 
 workmen, who are forging every day the mu- 
 nitions of war ; and she has Heets in constant 
 readiness to transport her soldiers across the sea. 
 You in India, who have never been over the 
 black water, can have no idea of what England 
 is.' 
 
 'Jung Bahadoor told me something of this, 
 but I beUeved that he spoke largely for his own 
 purposes,' said the Eanee. ' He has always 
 cultivated the friendship of the English. You 
 assure me that it is true ! ' 
 
 ' How' could I dream such wonders ? It is 
 true, every word of it,' said Tom, ' and I could 
 tell you more.' 
 
 ' Nay,' said the Eanee with a smile, ' you 
 have told me enough. To know that they are 
 strong will not make me love them more. Tell 
 me of yourself. You are going on at once to 
 Gumilcund ? ' 
 
 ' With your Excellency's permission, I will 
 start between night and morning.' 
 
 ' Stay one more day, and look round you.' 
 
 ' I thank your Excellency humbly.' 
 
 ' That is well. Then I shall see you again 
 at this hour to-morrow.' 
 
 He rose and bowed low, and havin^r called 
 some of the servants who were hanging about 
 the ante-rooms, slie committedhim to their care ; 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 242 THE eajah's heir 
 
 but Tom, acting on Hoosanee's advice, preferred 
 sleeping in camp to sharing the noisy hospitality 
 of the Palace. 
 
 Had Hoosanee had his will, they would have 
 started that night, but Tom felt bound to visit 
 the Eanee again. Never before had he met a 
 woman of her type. She fascinated his imagi- 
 nation, so that he could scarcely sleep for think- 
 ing of her, and it was after a vivid dream in 
 which the Eanee figured as a new Joan of Arc, 
 leading her troops to victory, that he opened 
 his eyes the next morning. 
 
 Hoosanee was standing over him with a cup 
 of coffee. ' If my lord wishes to see anything 
 of Jhansi, this is the tune,' he said. 
 
 ' All right, Hoosanee. Have Snow-queen 
 saddled,' said Tom. 
 
 Snow-queen was an Arab mare of the high- 
 est lineage, which Tom had brought up v^th 
 him from Bombay. She was full of spirit, could 
 race like the wind, showed no signs of flagging 
 until she was completely dead-beat, and was as 
 gentle as a well- trained child in the hands of 
 those who used her kindly. No one but her 
 master and the syce, Subdul Khan, who had 
 been with her since she was a foal, ever touched 
 Snow-queen. To him, as to Torn, she was more 
 like a human being than a beast of burden.
 
 THE RAXEE OF JHAXSI 2-1 P> 
 
 A few minutes after Hoosanee had oiven tlie 
 order, Subdul Khan, who had abeady groomed 
 and fed the beautiful white mare, was leading 
 her gently up and down in front of their mas- 
 ter's tent. A second syce led a horse for Hoo- 
 sanee. Dressed in the half-Oriental, half-Euro- 
 pean style, which is the out-of-doors costume 
 of many an Indian gentleman, Tom came out. 
 His face, w^hich had been pale and sad that 
 morning, brightened when he saw his favourite, 
 and he gave a low whistle, to which she re- 
 sponded by arching her neck, and pawing the 
 ground. 
 
 ' The White Eanee is impatient,' he said 
 smilingly to Subdul Khan, as he gathered up the 
 reins and vaulted on to her back. 
 
 ' She will go like the wind, your Excellency. 
 The day's rest has done her good,' said the 
 groom, looking, with pride in his dark face, at 
 his young master and the snow-white steed. 
 
 ' Then let her go,' said Tom. 
 
 ' One word, sahib,' said Subdul Khan, whose 
 hand was still on Snow- queen's bridle. He 
 spoke low and mysteriously, and Tom, fearing 
 that he had made some uncomfortable dis- 
 covery about his mare's soundness, stooped 
 down to listen. But all Subdul Khan said was, 
 * Let me entreat my master to be careful. 
 
 ■&2
 
 244 THE kajah's heir 
 
 There are traitors in this place.' Before Tom 
 could ask him to explain, Sno^v-qneen, free at 
 last, had set off, with her long, easy stride, 
 tossing her mane and snorting joyously. The 
 rapid movement was exhilarating. Tom's spirits 
 rose till he felt ready to defy the universe. 
 ' What do we care for traitors ? ' he said to his 
 horse in English. ' We could escape, you and I 
 together, if we were put to i^, old friend ! I 
 can see you dashing through a crowd of them 
 like a whirlwind. There ! gently ! gently ! ' 
 Snow-queen, excited by her master's voice, and 
 in mere wantonness of heart, had tossed up her 
 heels and redoubled her pace. ' We are coming 
 into civilised quarters, Snow-queen, and we must 
 behave like civilised beings.' 
 
 They had crossed the Maid an, a wilderness 
 of burnt-up grass, where the native troops, 
 whose huts could be seen as a low, white line 
 in the distance, were drilled and trained under 
 tlieir European officers. Tliey were coming 
 now upon a road, on either side of which the 
 bungalows of the English military and civil 
 officers, with the humbler dwelling-places of 
 Eurasian and European clerks and mechanics, 
 were scattered. 
 
 Here Tom drew up and waited for Hoosanee, 
 who was some distance behind him. The
 
 THE RAXEE OF JHANSI 245 
 
 gallop over tlie Maidan bad satisfied Snow- 
 queen for the moment, and she stood perfectly 
 still, while her master, stroking her glossy neck 
 caressingly, looked out before him. 
 
 It was very early indeed. The sun had not 
 yet leapt over the rim of the vast plain ; but the 
 eastern heavens were glowing like a furnace, 
 and from the dreadful zenith star after star was 
 fading out. Beneath the sky the plain, with its 
 villages and groves and burnt-up fields, and 
 multitudes of freshly-kindled morning fires, 
 round whidh, like busy ants, the people clus- 
 tered, lay outstretched mysteriously. Not the 
 Elysian fields themselves could have been more 
 peaceful than this early morning scene. 
 
 Hoosanee came up, and they cantered quietly 
 along the pleasantly shaded road that led 
 through the European quarter. Early as it Was 
 there were many stirring. Slender, pale-faced 
 English children, dressed in white blouses, were 
 mounted on ponies led by dignified Indian ser- 
 vants. Several ladies were riding and driving, 
 and from the bungalow-gardens came sounds 
 of laughter and chattering, as little groups 
 gathered round spread tables under the trees to 
 enjoy the freshness of the morning. 
 
 Tom was looking out on this absently, his 
 heart full of the wistful longing, which always
 
 246 THE eajah's heir 
 
 possessed him when he saw Enghsh faces and 
 heard the Enghsh speech, to mix with his com- 
 patriots as one of themselves, when a small face, 
 which had been for some moments looking up 
 into his face with questioning eagerness, de- 
 tached itself from the multitude of confused 
 impressions about him. He looked down and 
 saw as quaint and pretty a group as it would be 
 possible to imagine. The child, who had been 
 looking up at him — a little girl dressed like a 
 fairy in blue and silver — formed the centre of 
 the group. A ridiculously small pony, decked 
 out in gay trappings, and led by a smart little 
 Indian groom, carried the child, and an ayah, 
 swathed in spotless white, walked beside her. 
 ' Why,' said Tom, jKiUing up, ' it is Aglaia ! ' 
 At the sound of his voice, the child, whose 
 little face had been looking troubled, clapped 
 her hands and laughed ; and Tom, feeling quite 
 unable to preserve his character of Oriental 
 passivity, leapt to the ground, and cauglit her 
 in his arms. 
 
 The ayah, who had taken him for an Indian 
 of rank, looked at him in the utmost bewilder- 
 ment ; but her attention was happily diverted, 
 for Hoosanee, too, had leapt from his horse and 
 he was looking at her with a curious fixity. No 
 sooner had she seen him fully than she broke
 
 THE RAXEE OF JIIAXSI 247 
 
 into a little cry of ' Hoosanee ! How did you 
 come here ? ' 
 
 Tom looked back. ' Your Excellency,' said 
 the man, his dark face glowing, ' the young 
 woman is my sister Sumbaten ! ' 
 
 ' Why,' said Tom, ' this is quite a romance. 
 And where do you and Sumbaten live, Aglaia ? ' 
 
 The child pointed with her small forefinger 
 to a small buildinor on the outskirt of the 
 Maidan, which looked more like a tomb than a 
 house. She was clamorous that Tom should go 
 home with' her at once. ' I've such lots of 
 things to show you,' she said. ' Three new 
 dolhes, and a tea-set, and a sweet little bird. 
 Then there's my dada — you haven't seen my 
 dada yet, have you ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Tom gravely. ' Is he nice?' 
 
 ' He's lovely,' said the child. ' Come and 
 see him now ! ' 
 
 ' I am afraid I can't. Aglaia.' 
 
 * Why can't you, Tom ? ' 
 
 ' I am going on to another place, where I 
 have a beautiful house with all sorts of lovely 
 things in it. You and your mother and father 
 must come and stay with me there some day.' 
 
 ' But you're quite close to my house,' per- 
 sisted Aglaia. ' Do come ! ' 
 
 Here Hoosanee stepped forward. ' His Ex-
 
 248 THE rajah's heir 
 
 cellency is being observed,' he said in a low 
 voice. ' He would do well to mount and ride on.' 
 
 Two of the Eanee's body-guard, dressed m 
 gaudy but ragged clothes, w^ere strolling down 
 the road, their swords clanking behind them. 
 Iloosanee had been right in his surmise. Their 
 master, the Kawab, had pointed Tom out to them 
 the previous evening as a person to be suspected, 
 and they had come out with thfe object of spy- 
 ing his movements. Had they heard him speak 
 to the English child in English, his fate would 
 have probably been sealed, for these men, who 
 had served in British armies, knew the sound of 
 an English voice. But Hoosanee's watchfulness 
 liad, for the moment, forestalled theirs. When 
 they came up, Tom, who looked all the Oriental, 
 w\as mounted and mvinor directions in Hindustani 
 to Aglaia's servants. With reverent salaams the 
 men passed on, and Hoosanee whispered to his 
 sister that she should take tlie child away. 
 
 ' Sahib, it is for their sakes,' he explained 
 liurriedly to his master. ' We should draw" 
 suspicion upon them. The bud/nashes respect 
 nothing. They only wait for an opportunity to 
 do wickedness.' 
 
 Aglaia was resisting the efforts of her ayah 
 to draw her away. Her sweet violet eyes were 
 full of tears, she could not understand the
 
 THE RANEE OF JHANSI 249 
 
 change in her friend Tom, or why he should 
 look at her so solemnly, when she was so glad 
 to see him. ' Won't you come ? ' she sobbed. 
 ' I want you to see my dada.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' said Tom low and hoarsely. 
 ' Go home and I will come some day. Perhaps 
 when 3'ou want me the most.' 
 
 ' I want you now,' said Aglaia. 
 
 ' Missy come away ; come quick ! ' urged the 
 poor little ayah whom Hoosanee's frantic signs 
 were goading hito desperation. ' The sun it is 
 coming and mem sahib she scold poor Sumbaten.' 
 
 ' Go on dear,' said Tom. hnoferin<]^ and feelin<{ 
 half disposed to follow her, while Hoosanee was 
 writhing over his young master's folly and at his 
 own inability to make him do what was wise, 
 and then Snow-queen, the wisest of them all, 
 as Subdul Khan said later, settled the question 
 for them. She was impatient of standing, and 
 Tom touched her inadvertently, and all in a 
 moment she bounded away. She was seen 
 darting like a flash of light across the Maid an 
 and into the wilderness beyond. It was a 
 wonderful sight, so said the few Europeans who 
 witnessed it, marvelling at the daring and per- 
 fect horsemanship of a native. Later it was said 
 that there was something uncanny in the 
 business, for the beautiful white horse and its
 
 250 THE rajah's heir 
 
 rider, though looked for diligently by one or 
 two, were not seen again in Jhansi. 
 
 When Aglaia Iiad finished her usual prayer 
 that evening, she stopped. ' Mother,' she said, 
 ' may I say something from myself? ' 
 
 ' Certainly you may, darling,' said Mrs. 
 White. 
 
 Then Aglaia shut her eyes up tightly and 
 clasped her hands. ' Oh ! God ! ' she said. 
 ' Thank you for sending Tom. Please may he 
 come back soon ! ' 
 
 After that she lay down contentedly. ' I 
 was going to cry,' she said. ' But I won't now. 
 He's sure to come, isn't he, mother ? ' 
 
 Before her mother could answer she was 
 asleep, and every night, up to a certain night 
 tliat I shall have to tell of presently, she in- 
 sisted upon adding" this petition to her prayers.
 
 251 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE rajah's reception 
 
 HooSAXEE, who was by this tioie in daily com- 
 munication with Chunder Singh, was careful so 
 to time the arrival in Gumilcund of the rajah's 
 heir as to make it interesting and impressive. 
 Tom, indeed, who wished to test the truth of 
 the likeness to the late rajah, which so many of 
 his friends had observed in him, and at the same 
 time to put to the severest trial his own power 
 of maintaining the character of an Indian prince, 
 insisted that the people should not be prepared 
 for his arrival, and, Chunder Singh agreeing 
 with him, Hoosanee was obliged to give up his 
 dreams of garlanded houses, and throngs of ex- 
 pectant people in holiday raiment. He indem- 
 nified himself by arranging that they should 
 enter the city on the evening of a hohday, for 
 then all the workers would be out of doors, and 
 Gumilcund would look her best. 
 
 It was in the forenoon of a burning day that
 
 252 THE rajah's heir 
 
 the little cavalcade halted. They were now 
 within the boundaries of the Gumilcund State. 
 Tom, who was looking at everything with the 
 deepest interest, had already seen evidences of 
 a higher prosperity than he had met with else- 
 where. The splendidly kept roads were over- 
 shadowed with fine trees ; there were wells and 
 tanks in every direction ; the villages, which 
 echoed to the sounds of industr}^, were neater 
 and more comfortable- looking than any he had 
 seen m India ; and, throughout the day's 
 journey, he only saw one or two of the hideous 
 vermilion-painted shrines to Mahadeo, which, 
 elsewhere, were to be found at every corner. 
 
 They halted in a grove of fig trees, about 
 two miles distant from the city. Here Tom's 
 tent had been pitched, and, though far too much 
 excited to sleep, he threw himself down for a 
 few hours' rest. 
 
 ' His Excellency will sleep in his own palace 
 to-night, if we continue to meet with the favour 
 of Heaven,' said Hoosanee, as he left his master 
 to his repose. 
 
 Hour followed hour. Tiie sun blazed down 
 with the most terrible fierceness. Tom got up 
 and went to the edge of the wood, and returned 
 reefing and almost blind. He could do nothing, 
 he could not even think, and he felt as if the
 
 THE KAJAII'S RECEPTIOX 253 
 
 day would never pass away. At last, towards 
 afternoon, Hoosanee came in with the pleasant 
 news that his meal and his bath were ready. 
 Tom knew what was expected of him, and he 
 was not surprised to see the finest of his Oriental 
 suits, with jewels that had often caused him 
 anxiety on the road, but that were now most 
 carelessly displayed, laid out for him to wear. 
 
 ' We are in Gumilcund,' said Hoosanee, with 
 a proud smile, when his young master looked at 
 the display. ' There are no budmashes here.' 
 
 Not without some sense of amusement, and 
 curious consideration of what his friends at 
 home would say if they could see him, the 
 rajah's heir decked liimself out. He wore a 
 crimson satin tunic, sown with pearls, and the 
 sash from which his sword hung was of golden 
 tissue, and his turban of fine muslin richly em- 
 broidered shone with the fire of rubies a .d 
 diamonds. 
 
 It was an absurd magnificence, which, Tom 
 felt, would dwarf him, and, with an Enghsh- 
 man's impatience of merely personal display, he 
 was about to fling aside these gaudy weeds and 
 ask for something plainer, when, glancing into 
 the mirror which Hoosanee held up to him 
 proudly, he was aware of such a change as he 
 had experienced on board the ' Patagonia,' on
 
 254 THE rajah's heik 
 
 the occasion of his first putting on an Oriental 
 robe. It came, this time, with a force that there 
 was no resisting. For an instant his brain 
 seemed to reel with the shock. Then, making a 
 strono^ effort to draw himself toc^ether, he looked 
 again, and tried to look calmly. For several 
 seconds he gazed fixedly into those strange eyes 
 that were gazing into his. Then he drew a deep 
 breath. It was true. This in^age before him 
 was not Thomas Gregory. There was a dignity 
 in the figure, a determination in the face, a 
 mingled fire and sadness in the dark eyes, sucli 
 as he had never seen in the English youth whom 
 he thought he knew. 
 
 What did it mean? Was he dreaming a 
 madman's dreamj or was it, could it be, that the 
 awful thing which ever since he left home had 
 been haunting him was true? Could another 
 personality enter into and possess him ? Would 
 he never in all the future be certain at any 
 moment of being himself? Questions such as 
 these were forcing their way through his mind, 
 when, all at once, the curtain at the door of the 
 tent was slowly lifted, and, looking round im- 
 patiently, for he was in no mood to be intruded 
 upon, he saw his friend Chunder Singh standing, 
 with bowed head, before him. At the same 
 moment his perplexity and distress vanished,
 
 THE rajah's receptiox 2o5 
 
 and he knew that the curious conflict, so often 
 renewed, was over for the time. The Enolish 
 youth had gone. It was the Indian prince and 
 chief who addressed his follower. 
 
 ' Welcome to my tent, Chunder Singh,' he 
 said, heartily. ' What news do you bring ? ' 
 
 ' I bring good news, my lord,' said Chunder 
 Singh. ' We are at peace, and all the State 
 is well-disposed to your Highness. It was your 
 will that we should not warn the people of 
 your approach ; but the wind of rumour has 
 been busy amongst them, and I find that they 
 expect the return of their rajah. When my 
 lord enters he will be received with acclama- 
 tions.' 
 
 ' I will only go amongst them upon one con- 
 dition,' said the young rajah. ' You know that, 
 Chunder Singh.' 
 
 ' I know it well ; but let my lord have no 
 fear ! We know by whose favour we live and 
 prosper, and in all Gumilcund I believe there 
 is no one who would be traitorous to the 
 Paramount Power.' 
 
 The eyes of the young rajah glistened as he 
 held out his hand, over which Chunder Singh, 
 whose eyes were wet with tears, bent reverently, 
 for he knew now that his old master had come 
 back to him.
 
 256 THE eajah's heir 
 
 After this they made their arrangements. 
 Hoosanee, who was called into their counsel, 
 was in favour of their all entering together ; but 
 it was decided against him. The rajah should 
 ride in on his snow-white horse, with only Subdul 
 Khan, whose face was unknown to the people of 
 Gumilcund, behind him ; and the rest of the 
 train should follow after about half an hour's 
 interval. 
 
 The sun had by this time gone down ; a rose- 
 red glow of colour streaming over the plain 
 transfigured the burnt fields into gardens of 
 Paradise, and a thin white veil rising from a 
 multitude of evening fires covered the face of 
 the plain. 
 
 Feelincir as if evervthingf, and most of all 
 himself, were unreal, Tom mounted Snow- 
 queen, and, following the road pointed out to 
 him by Chunder Singh, rode on rapidly for two 
 miles. Then he drew^ rein, for he was within 
 sight of the city. Dreamlike and wonderful in 
 the evening light, the broad shield of the full 
 moon rising above its battlements, it lay before 
 him. It was all new ; but he did not feel that 
 it was new. It seemed to him rather as if he 
 were coming to a spot where everything was 
 famihar. He pushed on again, riding more 
 slowly. Abridge thrown across a deep gully
 
 THE rajah's reception 257 
 
 lay in front of him. He crossed it at a foot- 
 pace and found himself under walls of red 
 sandstone, thick and high, in the midst of which 
 was a massive gate, flanked with towers, which 
 lay hospitably open. 
 
 By this time Subdul Khan, his only atten- 
 dant, was close behind him. 
 
 They rode in together, no one challenging 
 them, and again Tom drew up and looked 
 round him. He was in a dazzling little world 
 of pink and white — pink houses that stood back 
 from a wide white road, through the midst of 
 which ran a canal of fresh water overshadowed 
 with young trees, and white poles uplifting 
 lanterns above the heads of the people, who in 
 gay garments of pink and white were streaming 
 along the road, and towards the centre of the 
 city. 
 
 Keeping under the shadow of the trees so 
 as not to attract the attention of any one, tlie 
 rajah's heir followed the crowd. It was at once 
 the gayest and the most orderly crowd that he 
 had ever beheld. As he went on it grew thicker. 
 Beautiful white kine, with garlanded horns, 
 moved amongst them ; flocks of white pigeons 
 hovered overhead, alighting wherever there was 
 a vacant space, and taking toll from the stores 
 of yellow grain that were spread out on sheets 
 
 VOL. I. fc>
 
 258 THE rajah's heir 
 
 at the doors of the houses ; and the lowing of 
 the quiet beasts, and the whirr of the doves' 
 wings blended pleasantly with the buzz and 
 rumour of the city. Subdul Khan urged his 
 master to show himself; but he kept in shadow 
 still. He was interested and moved as he had 
 never been before. He felt more strongly than ever 
 the mysterious kinship between himself and these 
 people. He was tempted to prolong the dream- 
 like sensations of the moment, and to put off the 
 time when it would be necessary for him to act. 
 Moving on under the grateful shelter of the 
 trees, with the unconscious crowd about him, he 
 was aware of coming into a finer part of the 
 city. Large and lofty houses, which were very 
 much in the gingerbread style of architecture, 
 being decorated lavishlv with balconies or 
 pavilions and pretty perforated stone lattices, 
 stood back from the road, and here and there, 
 as, going with the stream of the people, he 
 followed the broad main road, he caught 
 glimpses of quiet side streets and little open 
 squares, surrounded with lighted houses, all in 
 the same fantastic style. ' This is like a magni- 
 fied toy city,' he said to himself. And now he 
 had traversed the full length of the broad high 
 road that leads from the principal gate to the 
 market-place, and the avenue of trees which had
 
 THE rajah's reception 259 
 
 been sheltering him from observation came to 
 an end abruptly. Here for a few moments he 
 pulled up. To plunge into the sea of light and 
 movement that lay before him would be to 
 attract the attention of the crowd, and before 
 doing so he wished to understand what was 
 going on. 
 
 The market place, of wide extent and 
 planted here and there with groups of trees, 
 was tlie centre from which the principal streets 
 of the city radiated. It was here that all the 
 fun of the evenincr culminated. After a little 
 observation, Tom made out that the festival had 
 to do with Rama, hero of the great Indian epic. 
 His name was to be heard on every side. Pro- 
 cessions of women, decked with garlands of 
 flowers, were making the round of the market- 
 place, chanting his praises ; men in long white 
 robes, and elevated on small platforms above 
 the heads of the people, were reciting fragments 
 of the Eamayana ; and in booths, closely sur- 
 rounded with eager crowds, pictures of the hero 
 and the companions of his exile were being 
 exhibited. 
 
 This much he saw himself Subdul Khan, 
 in the meantime, who had alighted and tethered 
 his horse to a tree, was, by his orders, mixing 
 amongst the people. In a lew moments he 
 
 b3
 
 260 THE rajah's heir 
 
 returned, his dark face all aglow with excite- 
 ment. ' Allah is favourable to my master ! ' he 
 exclaimed. ' He has come at a good moment. 
 It is the festival of Eama's return to his city- 
 after his seven years of exile, twice told. There 
 could not be a better omen. Let my lord ride 
 down amongst them ! ' 
 
 Snow-queen had been standing like a marble 
 image under the trees. Her master shook the 
 bridle rein, and she moved forward. They had 
 been in shadow, and they were now in full light. 
 The effect was magical. In an instant the white 
 horse and its rider became the centre towards 
 which all that multitude of swaying figures con- 
 verged. They were silent for a few moments. 
 The suddenness of the apparition had struck 
 them with awe, and it was to some as if a spirit 
 had risen from the dead. But in the East the 
 crowd is more attuned to marvels than in the 
 West. The sense of awe was followed, in a 
 moment, by a rapture that was almost intoxi- 
 cating. Like an autumn wind that sweeps over 
 the yellow corn fields, bowing the ripe ears to 
 the ground, so the wild rumour ran, and 
 hundreds of heads were bent, while the cry of 
 ' Eama ! Eama ! ' rent the air. In less time than 
 it takes to tell, the trees in the market-place and 
 the balconies of the houses that bounded it, and
 
 THE rajah's reception 261 
 
 the platforms from which the reciters had been 
 declaiming, were thronged with eager faces. 
 Then from some one in the outskirts of the 
 crowd there came another cry — a cry that 
 tlirilled Tom to the heart — 'Eajah jee ! Rajah 
 jee!' 
 
 Those behind pressed upon those in front. 
 Subdul Khan could with difficulty keep a little 
 s])ace between the horse and the people, and had 
 not Snow-queen been as gentle as she was swift 
 there woidd have been imminent danger of 
 accident. But she stood quiet, or moved forward 
 slowly as she was directed, arching her beautiful 
 neck, and tossing her mane ; and Tom, who, for a 
 moment, had been uneasy, looked round him 
 calmly and proudly. Then the acclamations 
 were redoubled. They echoed and re-echoed 
 through the square ; they came rolling up the 
 streets that opened into it ; they dropped down 
 like thunder from the roofs and pavilions of the 
 houses. ' Eajah jee ! Eajah jee ! Protector of 
 the poor ! Cherisher of our city ! Master of our 
 lives ! He has come back to us from the grave, 
 and we are orphans no longer. Byrajee Pirtha 
 Raj, our prince and dehverer, is here !' These 
 and a hundred other cries rent the air, so that 
 the whole city was in an uproar. 
 
 Tom, meanwhile, was silent. He would have
 
 262 THE rajah's heir 
 
 spoken if he could, but the tumult v\- as too great. 
 He moved forward slowly across the great square, 
 looking to the right hand and to the left. In 
 the centre of the square he came to a full stop, 
 the throng being so great that he could not go 
 further; and then, all of a sudden, there w^as a 
 lull, and a single voice, as of a herald, was heard 
 to exclaim, ' Yishnugupta has come hither from 
 his hermitage. Give place to the priest and 
 prophet ! ' 
 
 In the next instant tlie crowd divided reve- 
 rently, and, through this living lane, a tall 
 supernaturally lean figure, dressed in a long 
 wliite robe, its one arm, that w^as bare, holding 
 aloft a silver cage, through which shone the 
 glowing red of hving brands, came slowly. It 
 stopped in front of the white horse and its rider. 
 The sudden apparition of the weird, white- 
 bearded figure, with the glowing brands, and 
 the smell of smoke in her nostrils, w^ere almost 
 more than Snow-queen could bear. To the 
 consternation of Subdul Khan, she fell back 
 upon her haunches, snorting violently. But 
 Tom kept his seat firmly, soothing her with his 
 hand and voice, and in a few moments she was 
 quiet again. 
 
 Then the deep sepulchral voice of the priest 
 came tow^ards him. ' I have come up i'rom the
 
 THE KA J All's RECEPTION 263 
 
 grave,' he said, ' to see 5^011. Who are you, and 
 whence have you come ? ' 
 
 Firmly and proudly his answer leapt out. 
 * I have come from the Islands of the Sea, to be 
 the rajah of this city and state. They who 
 were the rulers of this people have sent me to 
 reign over them. Take me to the prince's house 
 and I will speak to them there ! ' 
 
 He was scarcely given time to finish, for the 
 acclamations, which broke forth more tumul- 
 tuously than ever, mingled now with sounds of 
 weeping, as if, for some, the shock of gladness 
 was too great to be borne. 
 
 ' Our eyes have not deceived us. The voice 
 is the voice of our rajah. He said he would 
 come back to us, and he has kept his word. 
 Eajah jee ! Rajah jee ! Come in with re- 
 joicing ! ' 
 
 Tears filled the young ruler's eyes, and his 
 heart throbbed passionately. Oh, if he could 
 only speak to these people as he would ! For 
 in the pity and rapture of the moment all his 
 own hopes and wishes were melting away. He 
 was ready to give up everything, even Jiis per- 
 sonality, which seemed to be slowly receding 
 from him, for the sake of this people — this flock 
 without a leader — that surged round him. 
 Strange and solemn, as some of us dream the
 
 264 THE eajah's heir 
 
 entry into the new life — the hfe of the resurrec- 
 tion—may be, ^\ere the moments that followed. 
 The voices of the crowd seemed to be drawing 
 him towards them, while, far away, like a half- 
 forsotten imas^e in a vanished dream, he saw the 
 English youth with whom he had lived since his 
 infancy. Only an hour before he had fought 
 passionately to retain his hold on what he vainly 
 called himself. Now he was , conscious of no 
 self. He belonged to this people, and to the 
 power that was working in him, transforming 
 all his impulses to its own creative will. 
 
 Slowly — the priest with the cage of living 
 coals in his hand making a way for him — he 
 passed through the lane of mute figures, and 
 silent expectant faces, in which the rapture of 
 his own heart was reflected, till he reached the 
 north side of the square. Eight in front of him 
 towered a structure, larger and even more fan- 
 tastic and brilliant than any other he had seen 
 in the city. In colour it was a pale yellow, 
 which, under the many hghts, looked like gold, 
 and the whole of the facade was covered with 
 balconies, pavilions, and pillared alcoves, that, 
 narrowing up from a broad base, had its apex 
 in a small open tower of glass and shining metal. 
 Within this tower was a lamp with powerful 
 reflectors, which cast a beautiful moonlike
 
 THE rajah's RECEPTIOX .2uo 
 
 radiance over the whole building, and into the 
 small enclosed court in front of it. 
 
 Before the arched gateway that opened into 
 this court Yishnugupta paused, and muttered a 
 few words of invocation ; at the same moment 
 a tonofue of white flame issued from the caj/e of 
 fire in his hand. ' It is a gowd omen,' he said 
 joyfully. ' Let my lord enter without fear ! 
 The spirits of fire and air bid him welcome. 
 His rule will be as spotless as his heart is pure.'
 
 2(j6 the rajah's heir 
 
 CHAPTEE XYII 
 
 HOW THE XEWS FROM MEERUT WAS RECEIVED AT 
 GUMILCUND 
 
 Of the days that followed the young rajah's 
 entry into his capital but little record remains. 
 He ceased almost altogether to write in his 
 diary; Chunder Singh, being always reticent with 
 regard to this period, there was no one about 
 him who could supply the deficiency ; and, to the 
 deep distress of his English friends both at home 
 and in India, he gave up writing to them. 
 When, preceded by Yishnugupta, and followed 
 by Chunder Singh, Hoosanee, and the foremost 
 of the citizens of Gurailcund, he went into the 
 palace, he entered upon a seclusion wdiich might 
 have been that of the grave. 
 
 But, though unheard of outside the state, lie 
 was busy within it. I gather from hints scat- 
 tered through his later writings that, as day 
 followed day tranquilly, he entered more com- 
 pletely into tlie life of the city ; and that the 
 people — many of whom beheved with Chunder
 
 THE XEWS FROM MEERUT 2G7 
 
 Singh and Hoosanee that in this comely stranger 
 their own rajah had returned to them — received 
 him as one of themselves. 
 
 It was not a happy time ; no period of trans- 
 ition can be altogether satisfactory to oneself. 
 Being highly strung by temperament, he felt the 
 mental strain more than others, while the com- 
 plete severance with the old life affected him 
 painfidly. Up to this there had always been 
 something to connect him with the past. Jung 
 Bahadoor, Gambler Singh, Dinkur Eao, and the 
 Eanee of Jhansi had all spoken to him of Eng- 
 land. Wherever he had been he had seen 
 English faces and heard the English tongue ; 
 here he met no one but Indians. Exen. the 
 Eesident was absent. Owing to the death of the 
 late rajah, he liad been on duty for some time; 
 his health, he said, was suffering ; so, after 
 welcoming the new ruler, he had started with 
 his family to take holiday in a hill-station. 
 
 At first Tom felt disposed to congratulate 
 himself on this isolation. He remembered what 
 had been said to him on board the ' Patagonia ' 
 — that between East and West a great gidf is 
 fixed. If, as he would sometimes imagine, he 
 was to lay the first stone of a bridge to unite 
 them, he must learn to stand firmly on both 
 sides. Then, too, he had little time for vain
 
 268 THE kajah's heir 
 
 regrets. He had begun to realise the magnitude 
 of the task that lay before him, and all the 
 energies of his nature were bent on preparing 
 himself for it. The language, the religion, the 
 laws, and social customs of his new country had 
 all to be made separate subjects of study before 
 lie could presume to say that he understood its 
 people ; while, in addition, there was the duty 
 — peculiarly sacred to him — of finding out what 
 the aims of his predecessors had been, and of 
 looking for and examining any records they had 
 left behind them. 
 
 But- after those first few days, filled to the 
 brim with hard and unremitting toil, there came 
 a sense of want. His old feelings might be 
 stifled, but they were not dead. A dull craving, 
 which he could not formulate, haunted him 
 perpetually. During the night, which was his 
 only time of relaxation from mental labour, 
 there would come to him vivid visions of home, 
 from which he would awake with a sick anguish 
 that brought tears to his eyes and throbs of 
 pain to his heart. Like a nightmare the sense 
 of his isolation would weigh upon him ; dear 
 faces from the past would gaze at him reproach- 
 fully, and he would stretch out his arms to them 
 with a bitter cry. He could not — he could not 
 let them go.
 
 THE NEWS FROM MEERUT 2G9 
 
 Meanwhile, with the passion born of despair, 
 he dung to what remained to him of his past 
 hfe. He had brought away with him a httle 
 Enghsh New Testament, his mother's last gift to 
 him. In the silence of his marble chamber, 
 when everyone in the palace was asleep but 
 himself, he opened and read it. How different 
 it was from the subtle philosophies into which 
 he was painfully working his way ! Could it be 
 only that the words were familiar and therefore 
 dear to him ? Or was there indeed some sweet 
 majestic power in them, such as is to be found 
 nowhere else in all the world ? With a trem- 
 bling heart he read them over: — 'He that loveth 
 his life shall lose it.' ' He that hath seen Me 
 hath seen the Father.' ' This is life eternal, that 
 they should know Thee, the only true God, and 
 Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent.' ' Come 
 unto Me, and I will give you rest.' 
 
 They were not new to him ; from his child- 
 hood up he had been instructed in them. They 
 were so familiar to his ears as almost to have 
 lost their sense to his heart. But now, coming 
 fresh to him from these other religions, they 
 smote upon his mind with a new power and 
 beauty. 
 
 From the utterances he turned to the record 
 of the life, and his wonder and enchantment
 
 270 THE eajah's heir 
 
 grew. Its purity — he had never thought of this 
 before, for he had not seen how men build up 
 their deities — its selfless love, its courage, its 
 devotion ; these came upon him like a revela- 
 tion. More than once in these silent nights he 
 asked himself if this might not be the secret, 
 this the reconciling element which, after these 
 many ages of ignorance and disunion, would 
 blend the two continents together so that they 
 might move forward to a new, era of blessedness. 
 But as yet he said nothing, even to Chunder 
 k5ingh. 
 
 The sultry month of April ran its course ; 
 the heat continued to be terrible; but the youno* 
 rajah, in his large marble-lined rooms, arti- 
 ficially darkened and cooled with flowing water 
 and the spray of fountains, suffered little incon- 
 venience from it. 
 
 He heard daily of the outside world, and 
 what he heard was reassuring. In these latter 
 days of April it seemed to the English in the 
 North-west Provinces — who were for the most 
 part as ignorant of the inner life of the people 
 about them as the infant is of the feelings of 
 those who dandle it in their arms — that any 
 danger which mio^ht once have existed was over. 
 The soldiers had been convinced by a variety 
 of telHng examples that to fight against their
 
 THE XEWS FKOM MEERUT -71 
 
 salt would be the height of folly ; and the 
 people, even if they were disaffected, as a few 
 acts of incendiarism, with a sullen demeanour 
 towards the English, seemed to indicate, could 
 do nothing without the army. 
 
 May opened, and still they held on their 
 way quietly, and the rajah's heir began to hope 
 that the fanatics were silenced by hard and 
 stubborn facts, and that the bitterness, so long 
 foretold, had run its course. Then, like a flash 
 of lightning flaming across the blue of a cloud- 
 less sky, came the news of the revolt at Meerut. 
 
 There are many still living who will re- 
 member the horror and sickening dismay Avhich 
 flew from station to station as the story, dis- 
 credited at first, pressed itself home to the 
 minds of the conquering race. We had heard 
 unpleasant rumours before, here and there a 
 mutinous regiment, bungalows set on fire, 
 outrages committed, muttered insults in the 
 public highways ; some of us, indeed, had been 
 visited with vague apprehensions. But there 
 was always some one of experience at hand to 
 point out how foolish it was to be afraid either 
 of the people or the soldiers, and we were only 
 too glad to be reassured. So much the greater 
 was the shock of this terrible intelligence. It 
 is true that it was nothino^ like so dreadful as
 
 272 THE rajah's heir 
 
 what we were to hear later. The mutineers 
 were young in crime and fearful of punishment. 
 As a fact, it was rather a herd of frightened 
 wild creatures that rushed madly out of 
 the burning station on that awful Sunday 
 night than a victorious army triumphing in its 
 first success. But this we did not know. All 
 we saw and understood was the extraordinary 
 audacity of this first definite move. Through 
 the breathless days that followed we were 
 momentarily expecting to hear of the mutineers 
 being pursued and punished. Our servants 
 looked at us strangely. Native officers and 
 soldiers, who, in the first flush of surprise, had 
 passionately sworn to be faithful, began to lift 
 up their heads. Old English commanders, of 
 the type of General Elton, who was away from 
 home on a tour of inspection in the outlying 
 districts, gnashed their teeth with impotent fury, 
 and wondered what the people at Meerut were 
 about. For the news we expected never came. 
 The next distinct intelligence was that flashed 
 from the telegraph station at Delhi by the young 
 signaller, who, with the messengers of death 
 yelling in his ears, was working his instrument 
 quietly : ' The Sepoys have come in from 
 Meerut, and are burning everything ; we must 
 shut up.'
 
 THE NEWS FROM MEERUT 273 
 
 Not till then did the full inao^nitude of the 
 disaster that had come to us break upon our 
 minds. Ah ! what a change it was ! Few of us 
 can have any conception of its horror. From 
 a life that is quiet, simple, and secure, to be 
 plunged all in a moment into the dark, strenuous 
 world of tragedy, nerves strung up, senses on 
 the alert, affection made lurid by passion, heart- 
 consuming anxiety the companion of our soli- 
 tude. Can we imagine it ? If so, we shall have 
 a faint picture of the experiences of man}^ of us 
 in that terrible May and June. 
 
 When the Eajah of Gumilcund heard of the 
 uprising, his brain seemed to reel with tlie 
 shock. His impulse was to go to Meerut him- 
 self, but Ch under Singh dissuaded him. ' The 
 English,' said this wise minister, ' have troops 
 enough to defend themselves ; and if my lord 
 were stopped, as he well might be, for the 
 roads will be infested with evil characters, of 
 what profit will that be to his friends ? M}' 
 advice is that we take time to consider, that 
 we look to ourselves, that we strengthen our 
 defences and provision the city.' 
 
 ' You are right. Yes, I acknowledge it. 
 You are wiser tlian I am. Call the people 
 together ! Let us have a public council ! ' cried 
 the young rajah, springing up. ' If the people side 
 
 VOL. T. T
 
 274 THE rajah's heir 
 
 witli me now, tliey have my afiection and grati- 
 tude for ever.' 
 
 'They will,' said Chunder Singh. 
 
 In the beautiful Dwan-i-Khas, or pubHc hail 
 of audience, which was a large pillared pavilion, 
 standing in the midst of an open court, sur- 
 rounded by an arcade or corridor, all the prin- 
 cipal people of the city were gathered together 
 that evening. The court was literally packed. 
 Within the pavilion, on a marble platform ten 
 feet high, stood the young rajah, with Chunder 
 Singh on his right hand, and Yishnugupta on 
 the left. 
 
 Chunder Singh, to whom, as chieY minister, 
 it fell to open the proceedings, was deeply 
 anxious. His voice trembled as he stood out 
 and announced, in a few brief words, the calamity 
 that had happened, with the rajah's orders that 
 Ills people should attend to what he had to say 
 upon the subject. But, in a few moments, his 
 anxiety was gone, and he looked out before him 
 with radiant confidence. 
 
 The young rajah's speech was admirable. 
 Fortunately for himself, he had studied not only 
 the religion and philosophy of this people, but 
 their history. He stood before them, his mind 
 stored with pictures out of the past. Better 
 than anyone in that crowd he knew what the
 
 THE NEWS FROM MEERUT 2/0 
 
 life of the peninsula had been before the strong 
 hand of the English, guided by their orderly, 
 methodical minds, had undertaken to weld the 
 great chaos of contending states mto one peace- 
 ful empire. 
 
 Of the internecine warfare that led to Moo^ul 
 and Tartar invasions, of the brief prosperity 
 that, however, did not penetrate to the smaller 
 states, when the Moslem empire became con- 
 solidated under wise rulers, of the selfish and 
 cynical policy of Aurungzebe that broke up the 
 empire, of the horrors that accompanied its 
 disintegration — piratical incursions on peaceful 
 coasts, sackings of wealthy cities, forced contri- 
 butions from those who, through industry and 
 shrewdness, had attained to comfort, lancruishino^ 
 in a slavery worse than death of hundreds of 
 innocent people, fields ravaged, harvests swept 
 away, and monuments of antiquity destroyed by 
 a brutal soldiery — of these the young rajah 
 spoke. He spoke quietly ; but there was a re- 
 pressed power in his voice and manner that told 
 upon everyone in the assembly. Then, when 
 their hearts were hot with passionate memories, 
 and a tremor of vague apprehension Avas run- 
 ning through them, he told, in a few brief words, 
 of the Power that, for these hundred years and 
 more, had been growing up amongst them. 
 
 t2
 
 276 THE rajah's heir 
 
 Here he appealed to the more inteUigent 
 amongst his audience, the wealthy merchants, 
 and clever artificers, who had made Gumilcund 
 what she was, and the reasonableness of his 
 words impressed them. 
 
 He did not, he said, seek to deny that it was 
 the lust of gain which had first brought the Eng- 
 lish to their shores. Other nations had come on 
 the same quest, come and gone so far as their in- 
 fluence on the national life of India was con- 
 cerned. But this nation had stayed. Why ? In 
 answer he bade them follow him while he showed 
 how the conscience of a great nation had been 
 strugghng with its cupidity, and how conscience 
 had conquered, so that by degrees the majesty of 
 right became the majesty of might, till the English 
 name was a watchword for those who strove to live 
 righteously, and the English power was a refuge 
 for the oppressed. Even the late annexations, the 
 wisdom of which so many called in question, 
 had been made in the spirit of mercy, and to 
 stave oil' the anarchy which would surely have 
 resulted from the continuance in the peninsula of 
 selfish and oppressive governments. And what, 
 he asked, were the men who had been set over 
 the annexed provinces ? Had England sent 
 from her superfluous population men who de- 
 sired only to enrich themselves ? No : she had
 
 THE XEWS FROM MEERUT 277 
 
 giveu India of her best. Brave, true, stronor 
 and noble, denying themselves, and thinking 
 stern 1}' and simply of their duty, were the citizens 
 whom she had sent to govern India. ' I speak 
 what I know,' cried the young rajah, ' for though 
 I belong to you now, none of you are ignorant 
 of the fact that England has been the home of 
 my childhood. I am English and I am Indian, 
 in a sense which it would be impossible for 
 me to explain, and I speak with a full knowledge 
 of the political position of both countries, when 
 I say that England and India are necessary one 
 to the other. I need not urge this upon you, my 
 people, who are, I believe, deeply conscious of 
 the benefits which have come to us from a strong 
 and unselfish Imperial government. It is our 
 desire that this power should be strengthened 
 rather than weakened, and set on a broader 
 rather than a narrower basis. But I would that my 
 voice could resound through the land. I would 
 that every citizen of this great empire could, at 
 this awful crisis which some of us believe to 
 be impending, see on which side his interest and 
 safety lie. Then the army, which is being led 
 astray by fanatics, would swiftly return to its 
 allegiance, and peace and security would again 
 reign amongst us.' He paused for a moment, 
 and then his voice rose, and a passion of prophetic
 
 278 THE rajah's heir 
 
 woe seemed to tear him, as he cried, ' I know 
 the English ; they are fierce when they are roused, 
 they are dogged when their liearts are set 
 upon an object, and if they seem to fall back it 
 will only be for a moment. They will triumph, 
 and the vengeance they will exact will be in 
 proportion to their consciousness of rectitude. 
 Thousands will die the death of felons. Thou- 
 sands will lose their all. Thousands will wander 
 homeless through the land, cursing those who 
 betrayed them. But that is not all. That is 
 not even the worst, for death and the flight of 
 years will dissipate the anguish upon which we 
 may have to look. The disturbers of our peace 
 will pass away, and a new generation will arise. 
 But the sore left behind by the struggle will 
 remain. The new civilisation, which we so fondly 
 hoped to establish, will be thrown back. The 
 seeds of a mutual distrust will be sown, and the 
 union between East and West, to which my 
 ])redecessors looked as enshrining the secret of 
 the future, and holding within it the promise 
 of a peace and happiness greater than the world 
 has ever known, will be indefinitely delayed. 
 Eor this,' cried the young orator, his voice 
 rising and his frame seeming to expand, 
 ' that the calamity which I foresee might be 
 averted. I could wish that our little Gumilcund
 
 THE >'EWS FROM MEERUT 279 
 
 was a million-fold stronger and greater than slie 
 is. To take the van in the great contest which 
 we see coming, to make for order against 
 anarchy, to force npon others the views wdiich 
 we hold ourselves, and which we believe to be 
 beneficial to us all, to cure the blood-fever whicli 
 has seized upon the heart of these unhappy 
 peoples, and to lead them back into the paths of 
 reason and quietness — this w^e would do if we 
 had the stren<?th. We know that we have not. 
 By the Supreme Spirit, which, call it by what 
 name we will, every one of us acknowledges, our 
 place amongst the nations has been allotted to 
 us. We are to this people as a single grain 
 in a heaped-up storehouse, as a little one in a 
 multitude. But we can do something, and what 
 we can do we will. We can be faithful to our 
 convictions ; we can make sacrifices for our 
 faith ; we can govern ourselves ; we can be wise, 
 prudent, firm and watchful. This, which I ask 
 of myself, I ask of you.' His voice dropped, 
 and there crept into its tones a curiously soft in- 
 fiection as he went on. ' I am new to you, the 
 tumult of your welcome is still ringing in my ears. 
 I came to you an unknown man, and you received 
 me Avith an honour and distinction such as are 
 seldom accorded to a stranger. That I owe this 
 not to mv own merits, but to the merits of
 
 280 THE rajah's heir 
 
 those who went before me, I am w^ell aware ; 
 and when I say that it is in response to this 
 welcome I venture to come forward as your 
 leader, you will not mistake me. I am speaking 
 in the name and by the power — present, as I 
 believe, at tins moment amongst us — of your 
 late rajah, done foully to death by the hands and 
 heads that are plotting this rising. Tell me then 
 what your desire is. Let us confer together 
 about the measures we should take for the 
 proper defence of this city. Let us agree to open 
 our gates to the fugitive and to shut them to the 
 oppressor ; and, whatever may be in the future, 
 we shall have our reward, for we shall have 
 within us what a Western scripture would call 
 " the answer of a good conscience towards God 
 and towards men,'' or, in the not less striking 
 words of the Bhagavad Gita, the sacred lore, 
 the divine wisdom, " worshipping by the perform- 
 ance of our duties Him from whom is the 
 endeavour of men, we shall attain perfection." '
 
 2S1 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII 
 
 hoosaxee's mission 
 
 So ran the speech which the young rajah of 
 GumilcLind addressed to his people on that 
 memorable night. The effect was tremendous. 
 As from one man the voices of the multitude 
 rose in shouts of applause. 'It is the voice of 
 the dead. Byrajee Pirtha Raj, our father, has 
 come back to us from the grave. We will do 
 his bidding.' So the tumultuous cries rang 
 out. 
 
 Presently a herald went down amongst them, 
 and imposed silence. Their rajah was pleased 
 with their warm reception of his address ; but 
 business and not acclamation was the purpose 
 of their coming together. There fell then a 
 great silence on the assembly, in the midst of 
 which the rich men and elders of the city came 
 forward and protiered their help. The working 
 guilds followed — manipulators of metal and 
 precious stones, finance agents, masons, and
 
 282 THE eajah's heir 
 
 provision dealers, from amongst each of which 
 t!ie rajah chose oat one to represent the others, 
 so that, in addition to his official retmue, he 
 migfht have about him a council conversant not 
 only with the wants but with the resources of 
 the city. Surrounded by these, he left tlie 
 I)wan-i-Khas and entered the Dwan-i-amm, 
 Vishnugupta the priest charging himself with 
 the task of dismissing the s^reater multitude. 
 
 All night long the youlig rajah and his 
 people sat up in counsel, and when the morning 
 of the 12th of May dawned, that day which 
 in distant Delhi was to witness such terrible 
 scenes, their measures were taken. The rich 
 men contributed money; the mechanics promised 
 their labour ; volunteers offered themselves to 
 reinforce the little arnn% and a special band of 
 trustworthy soldiers were told off as the body- 
 guard of the rajah. It was universally de- 
 termined that, if the mutineers came to Gumil- 
 cund, they should have a warm reception. 
 
 On the following day the rajah drew up an 
 address, which, after being signed by himself 
 and tlie principal men of the state, was to be 
 forwarded to the Lieutenant Governor of the 
 province. In it the loyalty of the state was set 
 forth, and a refuge within the walls of its chief 
 city was offered to any of the Enghsh ladies and
 
 HOOSAXEES MISSION Ibo 
 
 cliildren who mifjlit be thought to occupy 
 positions of peril. 
 
 The pubhc address was accompanied by a 
 communication from himself of a much more 
 urgent character. The Lieutenant-Governor, 
 who had lately, he said, done him the honour 
 of concrratulatinj^ him on his accession, was 
 well aware of the fact that, although an Indian 
 rajah, he was more than half an Englishman. 
 Xevertlieless, owing no doubt to his position, he 
 had gained an insight into native character 
 which, he believed, was rare amongst English- 
 speaking people. It was his profound con- 
 viction that what he had seen and heard was 
 only the beginning of troubles, and he implored 
 the English authorities to take their precau- 
 tions. Then he reiterated his offer of refuge, 
 mentioning several stations, amongst which were 
 Jhansi and Xow<?ont?, as to his certain know- 
 ledge eminently unsafe. 
 
 The letter was sent, and duly acknowledged. 
 Whether it was believed or not, he never knew. 
 Possibly, he said to himself, with a bitter smiL*, 
 it was looked upon as a blind to hide some deep 
 design. 
 
 As a fact, his offer was made known to those 
 most nearly concerned, the civil and military 
 officers of the suspected districts, and they
 
 •^84 THE rajah's heir 
 
 smiled at it. They did not want a man more 
 than half a native to instruct them as to their 
 duties. Their chief duty was to preserve the 
 allegiance of the troops, and if they sent away 
 the ladies, those susceptible beings would be 
 justly offended — precipitated, in iact, into the 
 very jaws of ruin. The people at Jhansi were 
 specially tickled by the solicitude of a foreign 
 ruler on their behalf. They,, with such an ally 
 and friend as the good Eanee, whose affection 
 for the English was well-known, to show them- 
 selves afraid! It was ridiculous. Such pusillani- 
 mity would meet with its proper desert in the 
 alienation of the faithful and the triumph of 
 the mutineers. 
 
 So the Eajah of Gumilcund was answered, as 
 were Sindia, Holkar, and Dinkur Eao, with calm 
 reserve ; and if one or two poor mothers, as they 
 clasped their children in their arms, wished that 
 the chiefs could have seen it fit to send the 
 little ones away, they bowed to the inevitable 
 and tried to believe that all would be well. As 
 for our rajah, he gnashed his teeth with impotent 
 rage, for, with the answer to his letter and 
 address, came like a grim commentary the echoes 
 of the explosion at Delhi. 
 
 He had as yet heard no details. Sick with 
 anxiety for his friends and compatriots in the
 
 hoosanee's mission 285 
 
 now hostile city, he was compelled to hold him- 
 self in check, and attend to the business of the 
 hour. Now and then, amidst his many pre- 
 occupations, the vision of pretty Vivien Don- 
 caster, as he had seen her last, driving carelessly 
 and proudly through a crowd whose cringing 
 servility filled her with contempt, would return 
 to his mind, making it reel with a curious, in- 
 describable passion. Heaven knew he did not 
 wish to humble her; but — and there, not being 
 able so much as to formulate his wish, we 
 would fling the thought of her aside. 
 
 It was with a very different feeling that he 
 thought of others — Aijlaia and her delicate 
 mother, in the very heart of the district which 
 he knew to be unsafe ; and Mrs. Lyster, whom 
 he had seen for a few moments, but without her 
 recognising him, in the English quarter of 
 Futtehgarh ; above all, Grace ! He had ascer- 
 tained that she was at Nowgong, a small station 
 about equidistant from Gumilcund and Jhansi, 
 and garrisoned with detachments from the 
 Jhansi regiments. 
 
 In addition to his public body of advisers, 
 Tom had an inner council, consisting of Chunder 
 Singh, Hoosanee, and others of tried faithful- 
 ness. Through these men he had organised a 
 secret service commission, which came and went.
 
 286 THE rajah's heir 
 
 bringing him certain news of the progress of 
 affairs in the sohtary English stations scattered 
 amongst the native dependent states of the 
 Central Indian Agency. It was in this way that 
 lie heard of the ardent profession of loyalty 
 made by the garrison at Nowgong when it was 
 known that insurrection was stalking abroad 
 through the land, and of the relief and confidence 
 amongst the little English community there. He 
 kncAV, too, that Jhansi had made no sign, and 
 that the Eanee was, or appeared to be, more 
 friendly than ever. All this blinded neither him 
 nor his advisers. 
 
 While they made use of the breathing-space 
 afforded to them by putting everything in tlie 
 city on a war-footing, Tom succeeded in con- 
 veying a warning to Grace and her cousin. 
 
 It happened on this wise. 
 
 Hoosanee, who could read his young master's 
 mind like an open book, perceiving that this 
 enterprise was of deep moment to him, and 
 wishing on his own account to be brought in 
 contact with the young Englishwoman, for whose 
 sake, as the shrewd servant believed, the rajah 
 had resisted the blandishments of the fairest and 
 most fascinating women in India, determined to 
 undertake the mission himself. 
 
 In the garb of a merchant travelling from
 
 hoosanee's mission 287 
 
 station to station with specimens of the pretty 
 garnet and silver ornaments for wliich Gumilciind 
 is famous, he left the citj^late oneniglit. He was 
 alone ; but, as he dressed poorly, carried little 
 of value with him, and travelled at night and 
 b}^ the most unfrequented routes, he met with 
 no hindrance. Between night and morning on 
 the third day after he left his home he entered 
 Nowgong. This done, it was a matter of little 
 difficulty to gain access to the verandah of the 
 small bungalow where, he had found out by care- 
 ful inquiry, the little mem sahib Eobertson and 
 her big sister lived. He was in the verandah just 
 after dawn. The chuprassie, beheving him to 
 be a respectable man, accepted a small fee, and 
 the promise of a good commission if the visit 
 resulted in business, for the corner of the 
 verandah, where he allowed him to seat him- 
 self. 
 
 Here, then, Hoosanee took up his position. 
 He squatted on his heels, after the Indian 
 fashion, liis face a mask, his long fingers busy 
 with the small wares, which he liad arranged 
 against a background of azure blue satin in the 
 most attractive fashion possible, and his ears 
 and eyes on the alert. 
 
 Presently a calm, contemplative person in 
 tunic, dhootie, gay crimson sash and turban,
 
 288 THE rajah's heir 
 
 crossed the verandah and spoke to the chuprassie, 
 who called out in authoritative tones for the 
 Captain Sahib's horse. It came up, and a young 
 Englishman in military uniform crossed the 
 verandah. He did not look in the best of 
 tempers. Muttering in English that these morn- 
 ing parades were the very mischief, he threw an 
 angry word to the groom, who was trying in 
 vain to check the fidgetiness of the horse, asked 
 the chuprassie how much those fools of pedlars 
 gave him for allowing them to hang about the 
 compound, flung himself on his horse, and rode 
 off at a quick trot. Two serious persons were 
 busy meantime over a small table in the verandah. 
 They laid it out with delicate china, brought in a 
 steaming urn, and plates of fruit and cake, and 
 waited with folded armt~ and melancholy coun- 
 tenances for their sahib-log to appear. In a few 
 moments Hoosanee, who sat like an image in his 
 corner, heard tlie sound of rippling laughter, 
 followed by a rush of light garments through 
 the house. A little white dog came bounding 
 on to the verandah. It saw the stranger in the 
 cofner, and ran back barking vigorously. 
 ' What's the matter, Yick ? ' said a small silvery 
 voice. ' Ah ! ' as the owner of the voice, a 
 pretty little woman with flaxen hair and soft 
 blue eyes, came out upon the verandah. 'It's
 
 hoos.\nee's mission 289 
 
 another of those pedlars. With garnets too ! I 
 love garnets ! ' 
 
 Hoosanee rose and bcwed low. The little 
 lady, who could only stammer a few words of 
 Hindustani, asked him where he came from, and 
 when he answered humbly that he was a poor 
 man, who had no fixed home, but that the 
 ornaments were entrusted to him by a merchant 
 from Gumilcund, she nodded her pretty head. 
 ' See about you after breakfast,' she said. 
 ' Have you eaten this morning ? Oh ! by the 
 bye,' in English, ' these people don't like you to 
 know anything about their meals. I forgot 
 that. Where did you say you came from ? ' 
 acrain in haltincr ffindustani. 
 
 'My garnets come from Gumilcund, noble 
 lady,' said Hoosanee. 
 
 ' Gumilcund ! Gumilcund ! ' murmured the 
 little lady, gazing at him and thrusting forward 
 her under lip. ' Now, where have I heard of that 
 place ? Was it — oh, yes ! I remember. Grace 
 saw the rajah at Delhi. Handsome fellow, like 
 an Englishman she once met. As if a native 
 could ever be like an Englishman. But Grace 
 has such funny ideas.' 
 
 All this Hoosanee, who had studied the 
 English language in the rajah's school at Gumil- 
 cund, understood perfectly. 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 THE eajah's heir 
 
 The little lady ran back into the house, 
 crying out, ' Grace ! Grace ! Come quickly ! 
 There's a man with garnets here ; such beauties ! ' 
 And, in the next moment, a young and very 
 beautiful woman came out. From his corner 
 Hoosanee looked at her. He had seen English- 
 women before, and some of them had been fair 
 of countenance and of stately presence. But 
 he had never seen one to match her who stood 
 gazing at him now. At him — not at his wares, 
 as her little friend had done — that was what 
 was strange to the Indian servant. Diplomatist 
 as he was, and skilled in hiding his feelings, he 
 could not keep the curious tremor which her 
 questioning gaze excited in him from appearing 
 in his face. His eyes dropped, and when he 
 looked up again she had turned away. ' Come 
 to breakfast, Lucy,' she said. ' I am sure the 
 good man can wait. He has patience written in 
 his face. By the bye ' (looking round), ' where 
 is Tikaram ? ' 
 
 Tikaram was the chuprassie. He had been 
 keeping out of sight, for fear of being called in 
 question about the salesman in the verandah ; 
 but hearing his name spoken in Grace's friendly 
 tones, he stepped forward. ' Tikaram,' she said 
 kindly, ' will you mind going into the village for
 
 hoosai^ee's mission 291 
 
 me ? If it is too far to walk, you can take my 
 pony.' 
 
 ' Too far ! What a little molly-coddle you 
 are with these servants, Grace,' interposed 
 Lucy. ' You spoil them ! Let me give the order. 
 I know enough Hindustani — servants' Hindu- 
 stani, which is what they understand.' 
 
 ' My dear Lucy, allow me ! I like to speak 
 in my own way,' said Grace. She gave her 
 order, which was that a certain small account 
 should be paid, and Tikaram, bowing low, turned 
 away ; but, before he went, he glanced at the 
 salesman in the corner. 
 
 ' We will keep him till you come back,' said 
 Grace, with a smile, for she knew the customs 
 of the country, and believed that the small 
 backsheesh which Tikaram might exact for his 
 favour would not be a heavy toll. 
 
 They sat and chatted together in low tones. 
 Hoosanee did not catch all they said ; but he 
 judged that they were anxious. Suddenly 
 Grace, whom her cousin accused of being in a 
 fidgety humour, thought of another errand, and 
 the table-servant vanished. The bearer was 
 sent after him, so that, before they had finished 
 their breakfast, there was no one about but the 
 ayah, who was squatted in the corner of the 
 
 TT 2
 
 292 THE eajah's heir 
 
 verandah, opposite to that occupied by Hoo- 
 sanee, watching him sleepily. 
 
 To see the two English ladies alone was 
 precisely what Hoosanee wanted. He now 
 waited their pleasure with a lighter heart. 
 
 Breakfast over, they approached his corner, 
 and while Lucy fingered his trinkets, asking the 
 price of one and another, Grace continued to 
 look at him earnestly. He ventured now to 
 allow his eyes to respond. Then he said in a 
 low voice, ' Does my noble lady understand 
 Bengali ? ' The question was asked in the Ben- 
 gali dialect. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Grace, quietly. ' Are you from 
 Bengal ? ' 
 
 ' What gibberish are you talking now ? ' in- 
 terposed Lucy, discontentedly. ' Do let us keep 
 to business. Tell me the price of this ? ' holding 
 up a pretty little garnet brooch. 
 
 ' Tin rupya,' said the man, spreading out 
 three of his long fingers. 
 
 ' Too little if they're real — too much if 
 they're not,' said Lucy in English. Then in 
 Hindustani, with a little afiectation of sternness, 
 ' If you cheat me I will have you put in prison.' 
 
 ' Why not take it into the house and com- 
 pare it with my garnet necklace ? ' said Grace. 
 ' Avah will show vou where it is.'
 
 hoosaxee's mission 293 
 
 ' Not a bad idea,' said Lucy. 
 
 She went in, the ayah following her, and 
 Grace said hurriedly, in the dialect in which 
 the salesman had just spoken, ' You have come 
 to speak to us. From whom ? ' 
 
 ' From one who wishes my noble lady well,' 
 said Hoosanee. He paused, and then, ' Will my 
 lady deign to look at these poor baubles instead 
 of at her servant ? In these evil days the leaves 
 and the flowers have eyes.' 
 
 ' Not here,' said Grace. ' Our servants, I 
 am sure, would be faithful, for we have treated 
 them well, and they love us ; and the soldiers of 
 the station have professed their goodwill and 
 devotion. We did not ask them. They came 
 forward of their own accord ; if — her large eyes 
 distending — ' I were only as sure of the safety of 
 others as I am of our own, I should be happy. 
 But we are strangely cut off here.' 
 
 They were continuing the little pantomime 
 which the salesman had originated, and their 
 voices were low and even. 
 
 ' My noble lady is wrong,' he said, holding up 
 one of his brooches to the light. 'Does the 
 eagle who looks into the face of the sun behold, 
 far below him, the fowler with his snare ? Does 
 the king of the forest, roaming at his will, see in 
 the jungle the iron teeth gaping to devour him ? '
 
 294 THE rajah's heir 
 
 ' What do you mean, and who are you ? ' 
 cried Grace. 'I am sure you are no mere 
 salesman.' 
 
 ' Such as I am, does my noble lady trust me ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes. I cannot tell myself why, but I 
 do. It seems to me that I have seen your face 
 before.' 
 
 ' Could it have been at Lucknow ? I was 
 with my master there.' 
 
 ' At the door of the Dilkoosha,' cried Grace 
 excitedly. ' Yes, I remember. Your master was 
 the man in the long chuddah, who was watching 
 the crowd. I saw his face when he looked at 
 Sir Henry. It was as a man looks in prayer. 
 He came into the reception afterwards.' 
 
 ']\iiss Sahib has a good memory,' said 
 Hoosanee ; ' but let me entreat her to speak 
 with more caution ! ' 
 
 ' Caution ! Caution ! ' said the poor girl. ' I 
 shall die of caution. I wish no ill to these 
 people. Why should they wish ill to me ? ' 
 
 ' Even because of your goodness — and your 
 beauty,' said Hoosanee in a low voice. 
 
 Grace trembled. But before she could speak 
 again Lucy came running out. ' What an untidy 
 girl you are, Grace ! ' she said. * Ayah and I 
 hunted everywhere for your necklace, and found 
 it at last in your bath-room. You deserve to be
 
 hoosanee's mission 295 
 
 robbed, and only that these people are ten times 
 better than they are painted you would be.' 
 
 ' But how about the stones ? ' said Grace, 
 making an effort to speak lightly. 
 
 *Well! 1 think they are all right. They 
 look very much the same. But I am such a 
 little idiot about these things, and so are you, my 
 dear — worse, I think — because you believe every- 
 body. Oh, dear ! I do wish I could have a 
 trustworthy opinion.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Durant is considered a good judge of 
 Indian jewellery,' said Grace. 
 
 ' Why, of course she is,' cried Lucy, clapping 
 her hands. ' You have a head, if 3^ou have 
 nothing' else ; I will say that for you, Grace. 
 And I wanted to hear how Colonel Durant was 
 received by the troops this morning. Ayah, 
 tell them to bring round the palki-gharr}^ at 
 once. Too late ! ' in answer to a mild protest 
 from Grace. ' Why the sun isn't up yet — and 
 I'll try to bring her back with me, shall I.^ She 
 has just arrived, and has something to talk of 
 besides servants and mutineers.' 
 
 ' Do ! ' said Grace ; ' and bring my little 
 lover. Kit, too, if you can. I will keep the 
 pedlar.' 
 
 In a few moments Lucy, accompanied by her 
 ayah, drove off, and Grace turned her pale face
 
 296 THE rajah's heir 
 
 to Hoosanee. ' Go on,' she said. * Your master 
 has sent you. He is the Eajah of Gumilcund.' 
 
 ' You are right, most noble lady. My master, 
 the rajah, has sent me. He has only lately 
 come to rule over us ; but already he knows 
 the hearts of his people. He loves the English, 
 and he would, if he could, avert these troubles. 
 But he knows it to be impossible. The storm 
 has broken, and it will sweep over the land and 
 devastate it, and none can stay its course. This 
 he bids me tell you, beseeching you to seek a 
 refuge while you can.' 
 
 ' That is easy to say,' said Grace faintly. 
 ' But where are we to seek a refuge, and to whom 
 is it offered ? Fhght was spoken of before ; but 
 we have been assured that, if we leave the station 
 now, it will displease the men, who have again and 
 again promised to be loyal, and so revolt Avould be 
 hastened. God knows,' she went on passionately? 
 ' that it is hard to wait. When I tliink of them 
 all — my poor Httle cousin, who will not believe 
 in danger, and that beautiful child, and the 
 young men and women — it is like a burden at 
 my heart. I can scarcely breathe. I seem to 
 see all sorts of horrible things ; and,' slowly, 
 ' horrible things have happened already. It is 
 no dream.' 
 
 ' They have happened ; they will happen
 
 hoosanee's mission 297 
 
 again. But you, most noble lady, could escape. 
 Could you — would you trust yourself to me ? ' 
 Hoosanee spoke breathlessly. 
 
 ' Alone ? ' said Grace, drawing back. 
 
 ' Xo, not alone. I could arrange for the 
 escape of two, perhaps of three.' 
 
 For a few moments Grace sat silent, with 
 bended head, thinking ; and the rajah's messenger 
 watched her with a beating heart. He was think- 
 ing a little of himself, of the triumph it would be 
 to enter Giimilcund as the protector and de- 
 liverer of the first of the Enghsh fugitives, of 
 her, in particular, on whom his master's heart 
 was set. But he thought of her too. He in 
 his own humble way had fallen in love with the 
 beautiful and gentle lady, whose manner to 
 natives was so different from that practised by 
 the generality of her countrywomen. He knew, 
 moreover, as even his master could not, how 
 cruel and shameless an Eastern mob could be ; 
 and the idea of her falling ahve into the hands 
 of the mutineers made him sick with horror. 
 Hoosanee, we must remember, belonged to 
 Gumilcund. Except during the last few months, 
 when he had served the new rajah, who was much 
 gentler in his manners to those depending upon 
 him than any grandee of the East, he had never 
 been brought into direct contact with English
 
 298 THE rajah's heir 
 
 people. The bitter, personal hatred, compounded 
 partly of race and religious antagonism, and 
 partly of spite for a long series of small wrongs 
 and humiliations — the hatred which made ser- 
 vants betray their masters and mistresses, and 
 peasants gloat over the misery and degradation 
 of Enghsh women, and villagers flog Englishmen 
 in the presence of jeering crowds — was strange 
 to him. But he knew that it existed, and the 
 knowledge made him shudder for the fair woman 
 his master loved. 
 
 Presently Grace looked up. ' We are not 
 many,' she said. ' Would it be possible for us 
 all to escape ? The men, I believe, would be 
 freer without us.' 
 
 ' I could return for the others,' said Hoosanee, 
 evasively. 
 
 'I think we might persuade my cousin to 
 go, and sweet little Kit and his mother,' said 
 Grace. 
 
 ' Will my noble lady pardon me ? ' said 
 Hoosanee, bending low. ' She must come first, 
 or I must return whence I came alone.' 
 
 Grace looked at him as if she did not quite 
 understand what he said. He repeated his 
 words, speaking with a still deeper humility. 
 
 'Is it so ? ' said Grace, raisinof her head
 
 HOOSANEE S MISSION 299 
 
 proudly. ' To save myself I must desert 
 them ? ' 
 
 'In saving yourself, most noble, you will 
 save others.' 
 
 ' I will save all, or I will save none,' said 
 Grace in a low voice. 
 
 At this moment the palki-gharry drove up, 
 and a beautiful little boy, with long golden curls 
 like a girl, sprang out and leapt into Grace's 
 arms. ' Why, my Kit,' she said softly, ' my 
 little Kit ! ' 
 
 ' We're going to stay all day,' he cried, 
 ' mother and me. Where's Yick ? Oh, there she 
 is ! Mayn't I go and play with her ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, darhng, run and play,' said Grace, 
 releasing him. 
 
 A pale-faced lady, in a white dress and large 
 straw hat, was in the meantime stepping out of 
 the gharry. Lucy followed her. Both of them, 
 Grace thought, looked scared. 
 
 ' Well,' she said, smiling, ' have you asked 
 Mrs. Durant about the garnets ? ' 
 
 ' Send the man away,' said Lucy, pettishly. 
 ' They have all been scolding me ; Captain 
 Durant, and Mr. Graham, and Mrs. Cockburn, 
 and even Emily,' turning to Mrs. Durant. ' They 
 say I ought not to have left you alone with a
 
 THE rajah's heir 
 
 man like that. I'm sure one doesn't know what 
 to do. If you're frightened, that's wrong; and if 
 you try to forget things a httle, and be cheerful, 
 you're heartless, I wish I was dead and out of 
 it aU.' 
 
 ' So would I if it were not for the child,' said 
 Mrs. Durant. ' Grace ! Grace ! do you think 
 they would have the heart to do anything to 
 him?' 
 
 ' We won't give them the opportunity,' said 
 Grace, firmly. ' If the worst comes to the worst 
 we will escape. I will find a means.' 
 
 They smiled. These were brave words ; but 
 the peril was not actually upon them. And yet, 
 for what reason neither of them could tell, they 
 felt encouraged. Grace was one of those who 
 inspired confidence. 
 
 ' Well,' said Mrs. Durant, with a stifled sob, 
 'if it is to be done I hope they'll do it quickly. 
 Only for lut, I don't think I'd mind so much. 
 Charlie is so cross, and they come in with such 
 dreadful tales, and the servants scowl at him 
 when he scolds them ; and he won't — he won't 
 see that it would be so much wiser to conciliate 
 everybody. Only for Kit I couldn't bear it! 
 You see,' with a rainbow-like change, ' he has 
 his curls still.'
 
 hoosanee's mission 301 
 
 * Yes,' said Grace, smiling. ' I thought you 
 would not have the heart to shear Kit's curls. 
 But come ! you are both tired. Leave Yick 
 and him to me, and go in and have a rest.' 
 
 ' But how about the man ? ' said Lucy. 
 
 * Oh, he is a good simple soul ! I will buy 
 one or two of his trinkets and dismiss him.' 
 
 A few minutes later the salesman left the 
 compound. He looked all round him carefully, 
 and chanced upon Tikaram, pacing back slowly 
 on his mistress's pony. Both of them pulled 
 up. 
 
 ' I was looking for you, brother,' said 
 Hoosanee. ' The sale has been good, and she 
 of the lotus eyes has charged her servant to 
 return. Here is backsheesh for my brother's 
 good will.' 
 
 Tikaram, though surprised at the generosity 
 of the gift, took it carelessly. 
 
 ' Their raj is nearly done,' he said, jerking 
 his thumb in the direction of the bungalow. 
 ' The treasures of the land will now be for its 
 own, and not for the sons and daughters of 
 strangers. But the lotus-eyed has a soft tongue 
 and a noble presence.' He spoke meditatively, 
 almost sadly. 
 
 ' 1 know nothing of your pohtics,' said Hoo-
 
 302 THE eajah's heir 
 
 sanee, indifferently ; ' I am a poor man, and I 
 love those who bring me gain.' 
 
 ' Then come back our way/ said Tikaram, 
 ' and I will keep the lotus-eyed for thee — if she 
 is not by that time food for her masters.' 
 
 ' Will my brother keep her ? ' said Hoosanee, 
 his face brightening as if a new idea had struck 
 him. 
 
 ' I might,' said Tikaram. 
 
 ' I have a master who ' is a prince. He 
 would give a lakh of rupees for the two women 
 and the child.' 
 
 'A lakh!' said Tikaram, his mouth watering. 
 
 ' A lakh of rupees if they were given to him 
 unhurt.' 
 
 ' But three ! What can he want with 
 three?' 
 
 'Who knows? Great men have their ca- 
 prices, and if they will pay for them, let the 
 httle keep silence ! Perhaps he will keep a 
 museum, and show them as curiosities when the 
 Enghsh are all swept into the sea. But this is 
 what he said : " Bring me three of these English 
 — a small woman, a large woman, and a child 
 with golden hair. Let them be well nourished, 
 and of fair countenance. I will pay a lakh to 
 thee for thy trouble, and another lakh to the
 
 hoosanee's mission 303 
 
 man who helps thee." What does my brother 
 say ^ 
 
 'I would save the lotus-eyed without money/ 
 saidTikaram, and then he turned away. 'There 
 is time, brother ; they have not risen yet,' he 
 murmured. 
 
 E^'D OF THE FIRST VOLUME 
 
 PIirSTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODfi AND CO., NJBW-6TBE£T SQUAIUS 
 
 LOKDOX