The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 259: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

228 REYNOLDS’ WORKS accredited emissary from the Anglo-Indian Government, and regardless of the laws of nations, your father held me captive. Reports were spread that I had perished, along with my suite, in one of your Indian jungles, and thus the authorities at Calcutta adopted no measures to procure my liberation. I found myself thrown entirely on my own resources, and methought that if I sedulously devoted myself to whatsoever tasks the king your father should pre- scribe unto me, and if they were honourable ones, he would be all the more speedily moved to compassion, and would give me my freedom. And then, too, I thought that if I aided in the expansion of your natural intelligence, if I taught you our European accomplishments, and by such inculca- tions as I was enabled to impart rendered you the most brilhant princess of all the northern and independent region of the great peninsula of Hindustan, you would ex- perience a gratitude which would raise me up a friend to intercede with that king who held me in captivity. And perhaps, too, I was flattered somewhat — for I was much younger then — by finding myself placed in a position and furnished with an opportunity to carry European civiliza- tion into the midst of the Oriental barbarism of your father’s kingdom, and therefore did I address myself readily, and even cheerfully, to the tasks that were allotted to me. But that gratitude, Indora, which I expected at your hands, I received it not.” “No, not gratitude,’’ replied the Indian princess, suddenly starting with the enthusiasm of her feelings; ‘“‘ it was nought so cold as mere gratitude that I gave you, —it was my love.” ‘““ Ah, but that love was so far fatal to me,” rejoined Red- cliffe, ‘‘ that it prolonged my captivity. Do you recollect, Indora, that on one occasion I even humbled myself at your very feet to implore my release from your father’s capital? ’’ ‘‘T remember it, alas! but too well,’’ responded the Eastern lady. ‘“‘ It was when an English traveller was found dead, slain by robbers in a wood near the city, and when the papers and documents he had about him were brought to the palace — ”’ ‘““ Yes,” cried Redcliffe, with exceeding bitterness, and asa strange look that was akin to rage swept over his counte- nance, “for amongst those papers there was an English Gomicbooks (E(0)