That night the weary troop took up their quarters again in the old building. The next day the Rajah came in state to ask them to return to the new building, and it was in the officers’ room that he spoke out frankly:
“Do not forsake me now,” he said, “because I was weak enough to believe all I did. I was always your friend, but you cannot understand the bitter fight I had against the Ranee, the mother I loved, and her friends and supporters. Think a minute,” he said; “I wanted to raise up my country and rule it as I knew the English did. I wanted to throw aside the vile old superstitions and oppression of the past, and immediately fully half of my people, headed by my mother, my dead father’s old generals and counsellors, and the whole of our priests, rose against me. It would have taken a stronger man than I am to fight that fight.”
“Yes,” said Hulton, “we know you have had a struggle, but—”
“Don’t condemn me.” cried the Rajah, smiling, “for being ignorant and weak. I want to learn.—Darrell, you will not turn against me?” he continued, holding out his hand.
“No, not I,” cried Dick frankly; “but it was precious hard, sir!”
“I know, I know,” cried the Rajah.—“Now, Captain Hulton, Captain Wyatt, and you, my dear wise old doctor friend, who saved my life at that awful time, let the past be forgotten.”
“Till there is another rising against us,” said Hulton bitterly.
“There will be no other rising against you,” cried the Rajah with energy. “The vile party that has fought against you is no more. It died with my bitter enemy, the Wazir, who meant to seize my throne; it died with the Brahmin power, which shall never raise its head against me now.”
“There is the Ranee—strongest of all,” said Hulton.
“The Ranee is dead,” said the Rajah solemnly.