The Native Born

The Native Born, by I. A. R.
Wylie

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Title: The Native Born or, The Rajah's People
Author: I. A. R. Wylie
Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7940] [Yes, we are more than one

year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on June 3, 2003]
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
NATIVE BORN ***

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[Illustration: "Miss Cary has consented to become my wife."]

THE NATIVE BORN
or
THE RAJAH'S PEOPLE
by
I. A. R. WYLIE
1910

with Illustrations by
JOHN NEWTON HOWITT

PREFACE
In earlier days a preface to a novel with no direct historical source
always seemed to me somewhat out of place, since I believed that the
author could be indebted solely to his own imagination. I have learned,
however, that even in a novel pur sang it is possible to owe much to
others, and I now take the opportunity which the despised preface
offers to pay my debt--inadequately it is true--to Mr. Hughes Massie,
whose enthusiastic help in the launching of this, my first serious
literary effort, I shall always hold in grateful remembrance.
I. A. R. W.
May 9th, 1910

CONTENTS
BOOK I
CHAPTER I
WHICH IS A PROLOGUE II THE DANCING IS RESUMED III
NEHAL SINGH IV CIRCE V ARCHIBALD TRAVERS PLAYS
BRIDGE VI BREAKING THE BARRIER VII THE SECOND
GENERATION VIII THE IDEAL IX CHECKED X AT THE GATES
OF A GREAT PEOPLE XI WITHIN THE GATES XII THE WHITE
HAND XIII THE ROAD CLEAR XIV IN WHICH MANY THINGS
ARE BROKEN XV THE GREAT HEALER XVI FATE XVII FALSE
LIGHT
BOOK II
I BUILDING THE CATHEDRAL II CATASTROPHE III A
FAREWELL IV STAFFORD INTERVENES V MURDER VI
CLEARING AWAY THE RUBBISH VII IN THE TEMPLE OF

VISHNU VIII FACE TO FACE IX HALF-LIGHT X TRAVERS XI
IN THE HOUR OF NEED XII HIS OWN PEOPLE XIII ENVOI

THE NATIVE BORN

BOOK I
CHAPTER I
WHICH IS A PROLOGUE
The woman lying huddled on the couch turned her face to the wall and
covered it with her hands in a burst of uncontrollable horror.
"Oh, that dreadful light!" she moaned. "If it would only go out! It will
send me mad. Oh, if it would only go out--only go out!"
Her companion made no immediate answer. She stood by the wall, her
shoulders slightly hunched, her hands clasped before her in an attitude
of fixed, sullen defiance. What her features expressed it was impossible
to tell, since they were hidden by the deep shadow in which she had
taken up her position. The rest of the apartment was lit with a grey,
ghostly light, the reflection from the courtyard, in part visible through
the open doorway, and which lay bathed in all the brilliancy of a full
Indian moon.
"When the light goes out, it will mean that the end has come," she said
at last. "Do you know that, Christine?"
"Yes, I know it," the other answered piteously; "but that's what I
want--the end. I am not afraid to die. I know Harry will be there. He
will not let it be too hard for me. It's the suspense I can not bear. The
suspense is worse than death. I have died a dozen times tonight, and
suffered as I am sure God will not let us suffer."

Margaret Caruthers bent over the cowering figure with the sympathy
which education provides when the heart fails to perform its office.
There was, indeed, little tenderness in the hand which passed lightly
over Christine Stafford's feverish forehead.
"You give God credit for a good deal," she said indifferently. "If the
light troubles you, shall I shut the door?"
Christine sprang half upright.