"Then it is ours for the present, ours! sister! Think how delightful! Widows are not allowed to possess anything, so they say! But listen, I will tell you a secret now that you are my sister. They think I have nothing, nothing in this big world; but I have lots of treasures. I am rich. I have silver pots and golden cups and china dishes. Sometimes they are filled with oranges and mangoes, pomegranates and mangosteens. I have jewels and silk sarees——"
"What are you talking about, child!" cried Dorama staring at her in astonishment.
"Hush, speak low, and I will show you some diamonds. They are the dower of a bride in a marriage I am making."
She untied a corner of her cloth and produced some small white stones that she had picked up in the compound. She chose one and lifted it daintily.
"This magnificent stone of the first water was found at Golcondah a thousand years ago. It was once in the crown of a rich Maharajah. It is worth twenty lacs of rupees; and if this wedding can be arranged——" her brow puckered suddenly, "but things are not going well. The astrologer has pronounced unfavourably on the horoscopes. The bride's element is water, and the bridegroom's partly air and partly fire. Air and water will agree; but fire and water!—what can it mean unless it be misfortune?"
"What will you do?" asked Dorama entering into the fanciful world of the other with the kindly indulgence of the older woman towards the younger.
"I have paid a large sum to the astrologer. He is a very clever man—oh, so wise—and he has gone to a big temple in the south to ask for the assistance of the gods. I would do anything rather than disappoint the bridegroom. He is so handsome, so fair, so big and strong! The bride will die of grief if she is not permitted to marry him. Already she is drooping and languishing because of the delay. Beloved sister, you must come to the wedding. You shall be the bridegroom's mother."
A generous offer that Dorama accepted with a sad smile. There was a vast gulf between the two widows. One had never tasted the reality. She had only been a bride in name, and she was still able to live in the rosy dreams of maiden fancy. The other had drunk the cup and realised every thing. To her this make-believe was but a mockery, the dust and ashes of a tantalising memory.
"Where is the bridegroom?" asked Dorama.
Mayita untied another knot in her saree and produced a wood-apple which she exhibited proudly.