The Sirdar's Oath: A Tale of the North-West FrontierMitford, Bertram
History
The Sirdar's Oath: A Tale of the North-West Frontier
Mitford, Bertram
India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
Hilda thanked the Nawab, then, having directed her Baluchi escort to
wait for her there, without the loss of a moment, turned to follow Shere
Dil Khan, who had been chosen to accompany her. As they drew near the
place of Raynier's confinement he said,--
"I have been ordered to be present throughout your interview, but I will
not carry out that literally. You shall see your relation alone. This
is the place."
She entered the door he held open, then closed it behind her. She and
Herbert Raynier were alone together.
"Great Heavens!" cried the latter, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with
amazement. "Great Heavens! Hilda!"
"Yes, Hilda," she answered, her eyes brimming again.
He had never seen her like this, and down went every barrier of
conventionality. He had risen to his shackled feet, and now without
further words she was locked in his close embrace.
"How and when did they capture you?" he asked at length.
"They did not capture me: I am free."
"Free?" And his glance rested on her Gularzai attire, and seemed to
freeze.
"I am a thought reader, remember," she said, with a wan smile, as she
followed his glance. "No, it is not as you think. I put on this
disguise for safety's sake." And then, in as few words as possible, for
time was valuable, she told him of her plan, and how it had failed.
"But it has not failed," he answered emphatically. "It has given me the
sight of your dear self once more. Oh, darling, to think that you
should have undertaken such a thing--and for me. There is no other
woman under the sun who would have done it."
"Not if she--"
"Say it, say it," he urged, holding her more closely.
"Loved you. There. I will say it. I would say anything now. Listen,
Herbert, can nothing be done? Can we not bribe some of them? I have
money--plenty of it. Think quickly--time is so short. This one who
speaks English so well, the Nawab's son. Is he to be bought?"
"Oh, then he does speak English?"
"Yes. Shall I offer him what his father refused? Shall I? Shall I?"
"What did his father refuse?"
"All I am worth--five lakhs of rupees. He said a million would be
equally useless."
"Hilda! You did not do this?"
"I did. I would not have told you at any other time. But now--nothing
seems to matter. Nothing--nothing."
Words failed him, failed them both--but their understanding was
complete; even as it had been during their wanderings together. Then
nothing had been said, but every tone, every glance, had been an
understanding in itself. And time was so precious.
"Listen, Herbert. I have a plan. You shall put on my clothes, and pass
out instead of me. By stooping a little you can diminish your height.
And the veil will do the rest."
"And these?" he said, clinking his fetters.
"Ah, I forgot. Heaven help me, I forgot," she cried.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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