II

There was no lack of life now in the wide courtyards, though the year

claimed by Uma's pride had scarcely gone by. And there was more to

come ere the sunset, if the gossips said sooth as they passed in and

out, setting the iron knife (suspended on a string above the inner

door) a-swinging as they elbowed it aside. From within came a babel of

voices, striving to speak softly and so sinking into a sort of

sibilant hiss, broken by one querulous cry of intermittent complaint.

Without, in the bigger courtyard was a cackle and clamour, joyfully

excited, round a platter of sugar-drops set for due refreshment of the

neighbours. It would be a boy, for sure, they said, the omens being

all propitious and _Purm-eshwar_[36] well aware of the worthiness of

the household. But, good lack! what ways foreign women had! There was

the girl's mother, disregarding _this_ old custom, performing _that_

new mummery as if there were no canon of right and wrong; yet they

were--those town women--of the race, doubtless of the same race! It

was passing strange; nevertheless Uma herself did bravely, having

always been of the wise sort. She had given the word back keenly but

now to Mai Radha who, as usual, had her pestle in the mortar, and must

needs join in the strange woman's hints that the first wife was better

away from the sufferer's sight. _Puramesh!_ What an idea! She had

spoken sharp and fair, as was right, seeing that it was hard above the

common on Uma--so young, so handsome, so well-beloved! Many a pious

one in her place, with no mother-in-law to deal with--only two

soft-hearted, soft-tongued men--would have closed the door on another

wedding yet awhile, and bided on Providence longer. Small blame

either. It was not ten years since those two had come together; while

as for affection----

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[Footnote 36: The Universal God.]

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The rush of words slackened as the object of it set the swinging knife

aside, and came forward to see that naught was lacking to the

hospitality of the house. With those strange women within, lording it

over all by virtue of their relationship to the expectant mother, it

behoved her honour to see that there was no possible ground for

complaint. It was a year since Uma had flung herself face down upon

the wheat, and now the yellow corn once more lay in heaps upon the

white threshing-floor. Another harvest had been sown and watered and

reaped; but Uma was waiting for hers. And her mind was in a tumult of

jealous fear. Shivo with all his goodness, his kindness to her, could

scarcely help loving the mother of his child better than the woman who

had failed to bring him one. How could she take that other woman's son

in her arms and hold it up for the father's first look? Yet that would

be her part.

The strain of the thought showed in her face as she moved about seeing

to this and that, speaking to those other women serenely, cheerfully.

Her pride ensured so much.

Within, the coming grandmother heaved a very purposeful sigh of relief

at her absence. The patient would be better now that those glowering

eyes were away. Whereat Mai Radha, the time-server, nodded her head

sagely; but the girlish voice from the bed, set round with lamps and

flowers, rose in fretful denial.

"Hold thy peace, mother. Thou canst not understand, being of the town.

It is different here in the village."

The mother giggled, nudging her neighbour. "Nine to credit, ten to

debit! That's true of a first wife, town and country. But think as

thou wilt, honey! Trust me to see she throws no evil eye on thee or

the child. She shall not even see it till the fateful days be over."

The village midwife, an old crone sitting smoking a pipe at the foot

of the bed, laughed.

"Thou art out there, mother! 'Tis her part, her right, to show the

babe to its father. That is old fashion and we hold to it."

"Show it to its father! Good lack! Heard one ever the like!" shrilled

the indignant grandmother to be. "Why, with us he must not see it for

days. Is it not so, friends?"

The town-bred contingent clamoured shocked assent; the midwife and her

cronies stood firm. Uma, appealed to by a deputation, met the quarrel

coldly.

"I care not," she said; "settle it as you please. I am ready to hold

the child or not."

So a compromise was effected between the disputants within, before the

beating of brass trays announced the happy birth of a son, and they

came trooping into the outer court full of words and explanations. But

Uma heard nothing and saw nothing except the crying, frog-like morsel

of humanity they thrust into her unwilling arms. So that was Shivo's

child! How ugly, and what an ill-tempered little thing. Suddenly the

gurgling cry ceased, as instinctively she folded her veil about the

struggling, naked limbs.

"So! So!" cried the gossips, pushing and pulling joyfully, excitedly.

"Yonder is the master! All is ready."

She set her teeth for the ordeal and let herself be thrust towards

Shivo, who was seated by the door, his back towards her. She had not

seen him since the advent of the gossips at dawn had driven the

men-kind from the homestead. And now the sun was setting redly, as on

that evening a year ago when she had told him they were too few for

the house. Well, there were more now. And this was the worst. Now she

was to see love grow to his face for the child which was not hers,

knowing that love for its mother must grow also unseen in his heart.

"So! So!" cried the busy, unsympathetic voices intent on their own

plans. "Hold the child so, sister, above his shoulders, and bid him

take his first look at a son."

The old dogged determination to leave nothing undone which should be

done, strengthened her to raise the baby as she was bid, stoop with it

over Shivo's shoulder and say, almost coldly:

"I bring thee thy son, husband. Look on it and take its image to thine

heart."

Then she gave a quick, incredulous cry; for, as she stooped, she saw

her own face reflected in the brass-ringed mirror formed by the wide

mouth of the brimming water-pot, which was set on the floor before

Shiv-deo!

"Higher! sister! higher," cried the groups. "Let him see the babe in

the water for luck's sake. So! _Ari!_ father, is not that a son

indeed! _Wah!_ the sweetest doll."

Sweet enough, in truth, looked the reflection of that tiny face where

her own had been. She let it stay there for a second or two; then a

sudden curiosity came to her and she drew aside almost roughly, still

keeping her eyes on the water-mirror. Ah! there was her husband's face

now, with a look in it that she had never seen before--the look of

fatherhood.

Without a word she thrust her burden back into other arms, asking

impatiently if that were all, or if they needed more of her services.

"More indeed," muttered the grandmother tartly as she disappeared

again, intent on sugar and spices, behind the swinging knife. "Sure

some folk had small labour or pains over this day's good work. Lucky

for the master that there be other women in the world."

Uma looked after her silently, beset by a great impatience of the

noise and the congratulations. She wanted to get away from it all,

from those whispers and giggles heard from within, and interrupted

every now and then by that new gurgling cry. The excitement was over,

the gossips were departing one by one, Shivo and his father were being

dragged off to the village square for a pipe of peace and

thanksgiving. No one wanted her now; her part in the house was done,

and out yonder in the gathering twilight the heaps of corn were alone;

as she was. She could at least see to their safety for a while and

have time to remember those faces; hers, and the child's, and Shivo's.

Well! it was all over now. No wonder they did not need her any more

since she had done all--yea! she had done her duty to the uttermost!

A sort of passionate resentment at her own virtue filled her mind as,

wearied out with the physical strain, she lay down to rest upon the

yielding yellow wheat. How soft it was, how cool. She nestled into it,

head, hands, feet, gaining a certain consolation from the mere comfort

to her tired body. And as she looked out over her husband's fields,

the very knowledge that the harvest had been reaped and gathered

soothed her; besides, in the years to come there would be other hands

for other harvests. That was also as it should be. And yet? She turned

her face down into the wheat.

"Shivo! Shivo!" she sobbed into the fruits of the harvest which she

had helped to sow and gather. "Shivo! Shivo!"

But to her creed marriage had for its object the preservation of the

hearth fire, not the fire of passion, and the jealousy which is a

virtue to the civilised was a crime to this barbarian.

So, as she lay half-hidden in the harvested corn, the thought of the

baby's face, and hers, and Shivo's--all, all in the water-mirror,

brought her in a confused half-comprehending way a certain comfort

from their very companionship. So, by degrees, the strain passed from

mind and body, leaving her asleep, with slackened curves, upon the

heap of corn. Asleep peacefully until a hand touched her shoulder

gently, and in the soft grey dawn she saw her husband standing beside

her.

She rose slowly, drawing her veil closer with a shiver, for the air

was chill.

"I have been seeking thee since nightfall, wife," he said in gentle

reproach, with a ring of relief in his voice, "I feared--I know not

what--that thou hadst thought me churlish, perhaps, because I did not

thank thee for--for thy son."

His hand sought hers and found it, as they stood side by side looking

out over the fields with the eyes of those whose lives are spent in

sowing and reaping, looking out over the wide sweep of bare earth and

beyond it, on the northern horizon, the dim, dawn-lit peaks of the

Himalayas.

"He favours her in the face, husband," she said quietly, "but he hath

thy form. That is as it should be, for thou art strong and she is

fair."

So, as they went homeward through the lightening fields,--she a

dutiful step behind the man,--the printing presses over at the other

side of the world were busy, amid flaring gas-jets and the clamour of

marvellous machinery, in discussing in a thousand ways the dreary old

problems of whether marriage is a failure or not.

It was not so to Uma-devi.