Part 54 (2/2)

The sun danced in motes through the branches of the peepul tree above the little shrine, the squirrels chirruped among them, the parrots chattered, sending a rain of soft little figs to fall with a faint sound on the hard stones, and still Tara counted her beads feverishly.

”_Ram-Ram-Sita-Ram! Ram-Ram-Sita-Ram!_”

”Ari! sisters! she is a saint indeed. She was here at dawn and she prays still,” said the women, coming in the lengthening shadows with odd little bits of feastings. A handful of cocoa-nut chips, a platter of flour, a dish of curds, or a dab of b.u.t.ter.

”_Ram-Ram-Sita-Ram!_”

And all the while poor Tara was thinking of the Huzoor's face, if he ever found out that she had left the mem to starve. It was almost dark when she stood up, abandoning the useless struggle, so she waited to see the sacred Circling of the Lights and get her little sip of holy water before she went back to her perch among the pigeons, to put on the crimson scarf and the gold circlets again. Since it was hopeless trying to be a saint till she had done what she had promised the Huzoor she would do. She must go back to the mem first.

But Kate, opening the door to her with eyes a-glitter and a whole cut-and-dried plan for the future, almost took her breath away, and reduced her into looking at the Englishwoman with a sort of fear.

”The mem will he suttee too,” she said stupidly, after listening a while. ”The mem will shave her head and put away her jewels! The mem will wear a widow's shroud and sweep the floor, saying she comes from Bengal to serve the saint?”

”I do not care, Tara, how it is done. Perhaps you may have a better plan. But we must prevent the master from finding me again. He has done too much for me as it is; you know he has,” replied Kate, her eyes s.h.i.+ning like stars with determination. ”I only want you to save him; that is all. You may take me away and kill me if you like; and if you won't help me to hide, I'll go out into the streets and let them kill me there. I will not have him risk his life for me again.”

”_Ram-Ram-Sita-Ram!_” said Tara under her breath. That settled it, and at dawn the next day Tara stood in her odd little perch above the shrine among the pigeons, looking down curiously at the mem who, wearied out by her long midnight walk through the city and all the excitement of the day, had dozed off on a bare mat in the corner, her head resting on her arm. Three months ago Kate could not have slept without a pillow; now, as she lay on the hard ground, her face looked soft and peaceful in sheer honest dreamless sleep. But Tara had not slept; that was to be told from the anxious strain of her eyes. She had sat out since she had returned home, on her two square yards of balcony in the waning moonlight, looking down on the unseen shrine, hidden by the tall peepul tree whose branches she could almost touch.

Would the mem really be suttee? she had asked herself again and again.

Would she do so much for the master? Would she--would she really shave her head? A grim smile of incredulity came to Tara's face, then a quick, sharp frown of pain. If she did, she must care very much for the Huzoor. Besides, she had no right to do it! The mems were never suttee. They married again many times. And then this mem was married to someone else. No! she would never shave her head for a strange man.

She might take off her jewels, she might even sweep the floor. But shave her head? Never!

But supposing she did?

The oddest jumble of jealousy and approbation filled Tara's heart. So, as the yellow dawn broke, she bent over Kate.

”Wake, mem sahib!” she said, ”wake. It is time to prepare for the day.

It is time to get ready.”

Kate started up, rubbing her eyes, wondering where she was; as in truth she well might, for she had never been in such a place before.

The long, low slip of a room was absolutely empty save for a reed mat or two; but every inch of it, floor, walls, ceiling, was freshly plastered with mud. That on the floor was still wet, for Tara had been at work on it already. Over each doorway hung a faded chaplet, on each lintel was printed the mark of a b.l.o.o.d.y hand, and round and about, in broad finger-marks of red and white, ran the eternal _Ram-Ram-Sita-Ram!_ in Sanskrit letterings. In truth, Tara's knowledge of secular and religious learning was strictly confined to this sentence. There was a faint smell of incense in the room, rising from a tiny brazier sending up a blue spiral flame of smoke before a two-inch high bra.s.s idol with an elephant's head which sat on a niche in the wall. It represented Eternal Wisdom. But Kate did not know this. Nor in a way did Tara. She only knew it was Gunesh-jee. And outside was the yellow dawn, the purple pigeons beginning to coo and sidle, the quivering hearts of the peepul leaves.

”I have everything ready for the mem,” began Tara hurriedly, ”if she will take off her jewels.”

”You must pull this one open for me, Tara,” said Kate, holding out her arm with the gold bangle on it. ”The master put it on for me, and I have never had it off since.”

Tara knew that as well as she. Knew that the master must have put it on, since _she_ had not. Had, in fact, watched it with jealous eyes over and over again. And there was the mem without it, smiling over the scantiness and the intricacies of a coa.r.s.e cotton shroud.

”There is the hair yet,” said Tara with quite a catch in her voice; ”if the mem will undo the plaits, I will go round to the old poojarnis and get the loan of her razor--she only lives up the next stair.”

”We shall have to snip it off first,” said Kate quite eagerly, for, in truth, she was becoming interested in her own adventures, now that she had, as it were, the control over them. ”It is so long.” She held up a tress as she spoke. It was beautiful hair; soft, wavy, even, and the dye--unrenewed for days--had almost gone, leaving the coppery sheen distinct.

”She would never cut it off!” said Tara to herself as she went for the razor. No woman would ever shave her head willingly. Why! when she had had it done for the first time, she had screamed and fought. Her mother-in-law had held her hands, and----

She paused at the door as she re-entered, paralyzed by what she saw.

Kate had found the knife Tara used for her limited cooking, and, seated on the ground cheerfully, was already surrounded by rippling hair which she had cut off by clubbing it in her hand and sawing away as a groom does at a horse's tail.

Tara's cry made her pause. The next moment the Rajpootni had s.n.a.t.c.hed the knife from her and flung it one way, the razor another, and stood before her with blazing eyes and heaving breast.

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