“They are begging you to leave Maha with them, my love. The woman says that she has lost her only child, and desires to adopt Maha as her daughter. I have spoken to Ko Thah Byu, who gives to the widow a high character for piety.”
The object of the petition was mutely standing bywith her hands clasped, and her dark eyes watching the face of her mistress.
“Does Maha wish to stay here?” asked Io. She spoke in English, and Oscar translated the question.
“These are Karens, mine own people,” replied Maha, with a wistful glance at the widow; “and she is so like my dead mother.”
“Would it pain you to part with your protégée, my Io?” asked Oscar.
“Pain? no, nothing pains now, but—” She paused, and pressed her hand on her heart. Io was somewhat like the poor victim broken on the wheel, who, after the first crushing blow had paralyzed sensation, mocked at the idea of any other stroke having power to hurt.
Oscar hastily completed the arrangement, and then, turning towards Ko Thah Byu, warmly grasped his brown hand.
“You have done much for me—more than you know, my brother,” said the Englishman to the Karen. “You have helped to release me from bonds which I believed would have bound me for ever.”
It was a relief to the Coldstreams when Mouang was left behind, though Maha and others followed Io’s litter for more than a mile, the Karen girl weeping bitterly at parting from the mistress whom she honoured and loved. At length the last farewell was said, and Io felt alone; for Oscar dropped behind the litter, respecting his wife’s wish for absolute silence—a wish which, after the excitementof the morning, he fully shared. Io closed her eyes to shut out all sights, but the mind’s eye could not be closed. The less she saw the more she thought. The face of poor Walter, her childhood’s companion, continually rose before her! It was some comfort to her now, as it had been when she had first heard of his sudden death, that her merry hare-brained young cousin had had serious thoughts on religion; that with all his giddiness he had received the truth with the simple faith of a child. Io would not have had this comfort had her brother been the one to be suddenly taken.
The halting-place for the night was reached at last, where the little tent was already pitched, the fire lighted, the meal prepared. Coldstream avoided any allusion to painful subjects as he sat beside his pale wife, and helped her to food which Io in vain attempted to eat. Coldstream related all that he had heard from Ko Thah Byu of the Karen’s former life; and Io, though she made no comment on the strange tale, readily understood what influence it had had on the mind of her husband.