Krishnakanta's Will (Chatterjee, Roy)/Part 1/Chapter 25
CHAPTER XXV.
After Gobindalal's return home some days had passed, and Bhramar came not, for no one went for her. Gobindalal thought that she was going farther than she had a right to, that her attitude was defiant and that he must teach her a lesson. Nevertheless he felt a pang whenever he looked around the vacant room. How very strange it seemed to him that there could be any misunderstanding between himself and his wife. The very thought of it would bring tears into his eyes. However painful the separation from her was, at times he would feel very angry when he thought that her behaviour was most unbecoming. Why did she not tell her suspicions to him? Sometimes he allowed himself to be so carried away by his passion that he thought he would never see her face again.
Days went by, and Gobindalal felt so sad and lonely that at length he resolved to get over his trouble by giving himself up to the thought of Rohini. He had tried to forget Rohini while he had been away, but in vain. Off and on her pensive face (for so it appeared to him) would come floating before his mind in spite of him, chasing away all his virtuous thoughts. Now he wanted to welcome the thought of Rohini as a means whereby to drown his sorrow. But he little thought that in doing so he would be taking a most dangerous course—a deadly poison in order to be rid of a little ailment, which could be cured by a simple remedy.
Gobindalal was enamoured of Rohini; and now he gave the reins to his passion, and he continued until his heart fluttered for her as it had never done.
One wet evening Gobindalal was seated in a bower near the garden house where he commanded a full view of the tank. It was the rainy season. He was thinking of Rohini and he looked sad and thoughtful. The rain was falling, and the gloom of evening was enhanced by the thick black clouds which overspread the sky. Through the growing darkness and the rain Gobindalal could see a woman descending the stairs of the ghat at no very great distance from where he sat. He called out to warn her that the stairs were slippery in the rain and that she should be very careful lest she might catch a fall.
The wind whistled among the trees and the rain pattered. Whether the woman had heard him properly we cannot tell, but she set down her pot at the ghat, mounted the stairs again and walked toward the garden. Coming to the garden-door she pushed it open and entered, closing it behind her. Then slowly she moved up to where Gobindalal sat.
"Rohini!" cried Gobindalal, an agreeable surprise marking his tone. "Why have you come out in the rain, Rohini?"
"Did you call me, sir?" said Rohini. "I thought you called me."
"No," said he; "but I called out to say that the stairs were slippery. One might catch a fall stepping carelessly, you know. But why do you stand in the rain?"
She found courage, and stepped into the bower.
"Oh, what will a person think if he should see us alone together and in such a solitary place? You expose yourself to scandal."
"I do not care," said Rohini. "Have you not heard the rumour?"
"I have," he said. "But is it true that it was invented and spread by Bhramar?"
"I will tell you. But shall we be talking here?"
"No; come with me," said Gobindalal.
They walked a few paces and entered the garden-house. Modesty will not permit us to give the talk they had together. Suffice it to say that when Rohini left this evening she was satisfied that she had obtained a pretty fast hold upon Gobindalal's mind.