"Good-bye, Kâli mai! Good-bye for ever."
The girl, clinging to him fearfully, looked round into the shadows on either side. "Hush, my lord, who knows whether She really sleeps; and She is in dangerous mood. They say so." Her light foot marked her meaning by a tap on the echomy floor.
"What, reckless one!" said her lover in fond jest. "Hast grown so full of courage that thou wouldst signal them to come? Art not afraid what they might do?"
The panic on her face startled him. "Ramu," she whispered, "for my sake say it once--'Jai Kâli ma!' Say it; it will not hurt."
"Nothing will hurt, Anunda," he answered sharply. "Nothing can hurt."
"Can it not? Sometimes I have fancied, downstairs, that they suspect, Ramu!--if----"
"If they do, what then? To-morrow will see us far away. I tell you the times are changed. Why there is a police station within hail almost. Nay, sweetheart! I will not say it. Come, the dawn breaks."
"For my sake, Ramu, for my sake," she pleaded, even as he drew her with him, reluctant yet willing.
And now on the landing where the brick and the stone met, he paused again, his pulses throbbing with passion, to think that this was their last parting.
"Take heart, beloved," he whispered. "Sure I am Ram and thou art Anunda. Who can hinder God's happiness when He gives it?"[[20]]