"Had not you better," said I, "consult some one more competent to
decide? The pickpocket never asks permission from the man whose pocket
he is going to pick."
"You are quite right," she replied blandly. "Abinash, my dear, let us
have our little conference in private. What do you say to that?"
After a few days my husband asked her, in my presence, if she knew of
any girl of a decent family who could come and help me in my household
work. He knew quite well that I needed no help. I kept silence.
"Oh! there are heaps of them," replied his aunt. "My cousin has a
daughter who is just of the marriageable age, and as nice a girl as
you could wish. Her people would be only too glad to secure you as a
husband."
Again there came from him that forced, hesitating laugh, and he said:
"But I never mentioned marriage."
"How could you expect," asked his aunt, "a girl of decent family to come
and live in your house without marriage?"
He had to admit that this was reasonable, and remained nervously silent.
I stood alone within the closed doors of my blindness after he had gone,
and called upon my God and prayed: "O God, save my husband."
When I was coming out of the household shrine from my morning worship a
few days later, his aunt took hold of both my hands warmly.
"Kumo, here is the girl," said she, "we were speaking about the other
day. Her name is Hemangini. She will be delighted to meet you. Hemo,
come here and be introduced to your sister."
My husband entered the room at the same moment. He feigned surprise when
he saw the strange girl, and was about to retire. But his aunt said:
"Abinash, my dear, what are you running away for? There is no need to
do that. Here is my cousin's daughter, Hemangini, come to see you. Hemo,
make your bow to him."
As if taken quite by surprise, he began to ply his aunt with questions
about the when and why and how of the new arrival.
I saw the hollowness of the whole thing, and took Hemangini by the hand
and led her to my own room. I gently stroked her face and arms and hair,
and found that she was about fifteen years old, and very beautiful.
As I felt her face, she suddenly burst out laughing and said: "Why! what
are you doing? Are you hypnotising me?"
That sweet ringing laughter of hers swept away in a moment all the dark
clouds that stood between us. I threw my right arm about her neck.
"Dear one," said I, "I am trying to see you." And again I stroked her
soft face with my left hand.
"Trying to see me?" she said, with a new burst of laughter. "Am I like
a vegetable marrow, grown in your garden, that you want to feel me all
round to see how soft I am?"