“Oh no; I am ready at once to go with my lord,” replied Juwalí, so cheerfully that the soul of Tulsí Rám was filled with wonder. Beholding the courage of a woman, his own greatly revived.
Together the two began to descend the bank. Tulsí Rám was so anxious about his wife that he scarcely felt how the thorns were tearing his own flesh. Never had Juwalí been so dear to the soul of her husband as now, when, in a woman with weak frame but brave spirit, he beheld his fellow-heir of eternal life; no mere plaything or slave, but the companion of his dangers, the sharer of all his trials. Juwalí suffered even more than did her husband. After the fashion of Indian women, Juwalí wore many rings in her ears;[37] and the briers and thorns caught in these rings, so that the wearer’s course was stayed, and she was as a prisoner fastened in bonds. Tears gushed from the woman’s eyes. Tulsí Rám tried to lend his aid to release his wife, but only himself became more painfully entangled in the sharp thorns.
“O Juwalí! what can we do?” exclaimed Tulsí Rám.
Juwalí’s answer was in her act. She lifted up her small bleeding hands, and broke off one by one the ear-rings which hindered her progress, and left them hanging upon the thorns.
“See, I am free!” she cried, smiling, as Tulsí Rám, by a desperate effort, also released himself from the briers.
“Thou art losing thy jewels, O beloved!” said the pitying husband.
“I seek better and brighter jewels,” replied Juwalí. “Shall I regret these baubles if I ever possess the ruby of Pardon, the pearl of Purity, and the diamond of Heaven?”
And so the two travellers reached at last the bottom of the bank, panting, weary, pierced with thorns, but still not seriously hurt. The waters of Baptism flowed before Tulsí Rám and Juwalí. Hand-in-hand the husband and wife passed through those clear waters, the coolness of which afforded to them wondrous refreshment. Tulsí Rám had grasped the hand of his wife to help her across, but Juwalí scarcely needed his help. When they reached the opposite bank, Tulsí Rám looked at Juwalí, and lo! never before had her face shone with such heavenly beauty! It was even as the brightness of the moon when the clouds have passed away, and her silver light falls softly on earth. And never to Tulsí Rám had Juwalí’s voice sounded so sweet as when she exclaimed, “O lord of my heart! the river is passed. Let us rejoice and give thanks.”
The opposite bank was less steep, though still made difficult of ascent by the thorns of Persecution. But the spirit of Tulsí Rám had now acquired fresh courage. Having once crossed the river which he had dreaded, and having found in it nothing to harm him, but only refreshment, Tulsí Rám felt all his strength return. Cheerfully he lent his aid to the weary but happy Juwalí, and the two soon stood at the top of the bank, from which their glad eyes could see the Cross on the hill.
“Our treasure is yonder, and it will soon be ours!” exclaimed Tulsí Rám.