Rohini," said Gobindalal. "And your uncle is going with you, is he not?"
"I did not speak to him about it," said Rohini, hanging her head.
"But you are sure you are going?" he said again.
"I am afraid I am not," she said without looking up.
"How is it? You told me you were going."
"I cannot go," she murmured.
"Well, I cannot compel you to, but I think you would do very well if you could make up your mind to live away for a time at least."
"May I ask what good can come of my living away?"
Gobindalal made no answer. He could never find it in his heart to tell pointblank that he had found out her secret. But he looked very serious and only said, "You can go, Rohini. I have nothing more to say to you."
Rohini came away. Tears flowed from her eyes as she thought that Gobindalal could not love her. She brushed them away quickly lest they should be noticed by any one.
Soon after Rohini had left, Bhramar entered the room. She wore, as usual, a cheerful look. Finding her husband very grave and thoughtful so that he did not at all seem to notice her presence, she stepped up lightly and touched him on the shoulder as she said, "Who is it you are thinking of?"
Gobindalal looked up with a slight start. "Who do you think it is, dear?" he said with a smile.
"You have been thinking of me, I know," she said gayly.
"No, indeed. It is some other person," he said giving her a sly look.
Bhramar fondly put her arms round his neck, and kissed him, saying, "Who is this person, dear? Will you not tell me?"
"What's the good?" said Gobindalal. "Go, see, dear, if the house have finished their meal."
"No; you must tell me first what I want to know."
"You will be angry if I tell you," he said, smiling.
"What do you care?" she said. "You must tell me, come."
"Well, since you insist on knowing," said Gobindalal, "I may tell you that the person I have been thinking of is Rohini."
"Why were you thinking of her?"
"I do not know."
"Fiddlesticks! You must tell me. It is not like you to hide anything from me."
"A man may think of a woman and not be to blame," said Gobindalal. "There is nothing very bad or improper in that, I suppose."
"One thinks of one he loves," said Bhramar. "I think of you because I love you."
"Well, if that be your argument, then I love Rohini," said her husband with a smile.
"It is false," she said. "You cannot love her. You love me, and I am your wedded and lawful wife."
"Well," said Gobindalal, "widows are to eat no animal food. The shastras prohibit them from eating it. But are there no widows who disregard this edict of the shastras?"
"If there be any," she said, "they are a bad and unfortunate set and should be condemned and pitied by all."
"Well, there are bad men as well as bad women. And I am unfortunately one of a bad and immoral set of men, because being a married man I love Rohini."
"You naughty man, how can you talk like this?" she said rather indignantly. "Oh, I am ashamed of you." And she turned to leave the room.
Gobindalal rose, caught her in his arms and kissed her over and over again. "No, Bhramar," he said, "it is not true I love Rohini, but Rohini loves me."
She made a sudden backward movement as if she felt the smart of the sting of a hornet. "The poor pitiful girl!" she exclaimed. "I hate her, I do hate her from the very core of my heart."
"Why, how you storm, my dear," said Gobindalal with a smile. "Poor girl! she has done no harm to you."
"She is angling after you, I can see. I cannot bear to hear that she loves you. The poor pitiful thing! I wish she were dead. And I should repeat the wish a thousand times. But I think I will give her a piece of advice."
"What's that, my dear?"
She paid no heed to her husband's question, and walking up to the door, cried, "Khiroda, Khiroda."
Khiroda was the name of her own servant-maid. As she put in an appearance, Bhramar said, "Go, tell Rohini that I wish her to die. Do you understand?"
