The Rajah's Heir: A Novel in 3 volumesDespard, C. (Charlotte)
General
The Rajah's Heir: A Novel in 3 volumes
Despard, C. (Charlotte)
India -- Fiction
'I want particularly to speak to him,' went on Lucy more fluently.
'Perhaps you wouldn't mind saying that I have a message for him--I
suppose,' looking round at the other ladies with some bewilderment,
'that it is for him. You know he told us he was an Englishman; but
this isn't much like an English house. And how does he come to be a
rajah? Oh! dear, if Grace could only have come herself!'
'His Excellency was educated in England,' broke in the mellifluous
voice of Chunder Singh.
'And some of us think him more English than Indian,' added Lutfullah
pleasantly.
'You can speak English too, chief citizen!' cried Lucy. 'This is most
extraordinary. Really I begin to think that we must have died last
night, and that we are in a sort of half-English, half-Indian paradise.
But,' with a deep sigh, 'that can't be, for Grace would certainly have
been here before us. Oh, my poor Grace! my dear Grace! Can't anyone
tell me where you are?'
'Hush! Lucy. Hush! We shall never know how they went. She and my lovely
Kit,' cried Mrs. Durant, weeping bitterly. 'Little could I have thought
to what his love for her would have brought him----'
'Do you give them up?' cried Lucy, flashing round upon her friend
fiercely. '_I_ don't, and just because they are together! Oh! Mr.
Major-domo, if you have a heart--and you look as if you had--find this
mysterious prince, who is an Englishman and not an Englishman, and ask
him, for pity's sake, to speak to us.'
'No doubt his Highness will request the honour of speech with you
later,' said Chunder Singh. 'At present he must not be disturbed.'
'Did he say so? Oh! where is he?' sobbed Lucy. 'He can't know how
dreadful the danger is! I was ashamed of myself for being able to
sleep last night. If Grace dies'--clutching at her muslin robe after
a fashion that, to the grave Indian, was scarcely decorous. 'If Grace
dies, I shall never forgive myself.'
'I will see if his Highness is awake,' said Chunder Singh retreating,
while Lucy, now in a perfect paroxysm of grief, was led to the
summer-house by her companions.
There they waited for a long time. The sun rose high in the heavens,
and, outside the summer-house, the air was like that of a heated oven;
but here there were punkahs swinging slowly, and darkened windows,
and splashing water, so that they scarcely felt the heat. Meantime
attendants came and went, bringing them books and music and food and
drink, and toys and pictures for the children; but, ask as they would,
there came no message from the rajah.
'I cannot stand it,' cried Lucy at last. 'I had rather not be so
comfortable. I will go out and see what it all means.'
'Go out into that sun! Don't behave like a mad girl! Do you wish to
bring more trouble upon us? You think only of yourself,' said Kit's
mother reproachfully.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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