One by one the company drifted away, some to depart at once for their homes, others to indulge in fragments of gossip in the back verandah. The place was empty at last of all save the prostrate figure lying among the jasmine blossoms in the room where, only a few nights ago, she had crept into the arms of a loving husband. The gourd was crushed and trampled to death in the yard; the glory of its green leaves and yellow cups was as ruthlessly destroyed as her own crown of womanhood.
A cicala in the grass outside began his evening note of challenge. It was answered by the metallic defiance of a rival. A pair of little flycatchers slipped into their roosting place in the oleander bush at the entrance, with complaining chirrups at having been kept up so late by the invasion of the yard. A pale, yellow moth fluttered like a ghost over the jasmine flowers, puzzled at its inability to draw honey from what had been done to death. The hum of the town, busy with its evening trading, came faintly through the stillness of the air and died down again; and the peace of approaching night dropped softly on the earth.
Not one of that numerous family gave a second thought to the stricken woman whom they had left. Not a soul returned to offer consolation. Their actions faithfully indicated their minds. No one cared what became of the widow; no one heeded her steps. Under her ban she was free to come and go as she chose. From thenceforth she need have no fear of lock and key; unless it might be for the purpose of keeping her out of sight of her more fortunate fellows.
In earlier days Dorama had wondered how Mayita had been able to bear the fate that had overtaken her. She recalled the fact that she had herself shrunk from the baldheaded child, and avoided a meeting without any attempt at disguising her action. And now she was in exactly the same case herself! ah! she could not bear it. It was intolerable; a moan broke from her lips as the reality of the present separated itself from the shadows of the past. She writhed in rebellion against her fate, and as she did so she felt the iron of the inevitable enter her soul.
It was unbearable. She could not face it! Cost what it might she must escape!
There was but one way. She knew it, as she had heard it spoken of when other women suffered the same fate. Yes: they were right. Death was preferable to life under such conditions. Her beloved husband had sought for death in the well. If she ran quickly, and hurled herself over the low wall before she had time to look into the black cold depths, she could find courage enough to carry out the design without faltering. It would be best too for the house, and relieve it of the disastrous presence of a widow. Royan was gone; Ananda was gone; it was only fitting that she should go too.
She rose to her feet determined to act at once before her courage failed her. She turned and staggered blindly to the entrance that admitted the faint starlight of the night. As her foot crossed the threshold she felt a pair of small arms thrown around her.
"Dorama! sister, it is I! Coomara's widow! I have come to join my tears with yours!"
And promptly Mayita buried her face in the coarse new saree of her sister-widow and gave full rein to her grief.
Dorama felt like a drowning waif who had abandoned hope, and to whom was suddenly held out a friendly hand. She clung passionately to Mayita, trembling and catching her breath in dry sobs.