“But Kripá Dé is of an age at which the law lets him choose his own religion,” said Robin.
“True, he would not be given up in a court of law, but his age would not protect him from the violence of a mob in a remote corner of a district. Kripá Dé’s baptism is sure to cause great excitement amongst the Hindus.—Until that excitement subside,” continued Harold, addressing himself to his wife, “you will have, I fear, to suspend your visits to the fort.”
“Give up my only zenana!” exclaimed Alicia, “and just when I have become so much interested in one of its inmates, and have learned ‘Joyful, joyful!’ in Urdu, on purpose to give her comfort!”
“The poor little widow could hardly receive comfort from that Christian hymn,” observed Harold. “If her present existence be like one in a prison, over the future to her hangs a heavy curtain of darkness.”
“I might lift it, just a little,” said Alicia, “to let one little ray come in.”
“To-morrow the news of a baptism will probably cause the door to be closed against you.”
“Then let me go to-day,” cried Alicia with animation, rising from her seat as she spoke. “I must, I really must, see that sweet fair young Kashmiri again.”
“Let her go, Harold, let my brave little sister go!” exclaimed Robin.
Kripá Dé had been watching the discussion with eager eyes, as if he could drink in its import through them. Harold briefly explained to him the lady’s wishes, and asked him whether she could safely visit the zenana.
“To-day, not to-morrow,” was the reply; “no one in the fort knows that I am here.”