'Kept for me--how so?' he echoed, trying once more to be resentful.
The Swâmi smiled. 'Hast, indeed, forgotten the old life so utterly, boy, as never to have wondered why one of Naraini's age remained virgin in thy mother's house?'
Chris felt the blood go tingling to his face; for he could not pretend to such ignorance. He knew that the limit of laxity in such matters had almost been overpast in the hope that when he returned from England he would marry the girl. But that possibility had vanished when he had married Viva. Therefore, to blame him for the subsequent delay was unfair; so he answered boldly--
'I have not wondered. I have known and regretted the idle dream. But that was over long ago--ere my father died. Had he chosen, he might----'
The Swâmi's hand stopped him once more. 'Not so,' he said calmly. 'If thou hast forgotten much, there are other things thou hast never known; that none would have known save thy father and I--not even thy mother--hadst thou been dutiful and fulfilled the dream. Listen and reflect! Thy cousin Naraini was betrothed or ever she came to thy father's house, betrothed as an infant to one who--who left her.'
'Left her?' echoed Chris hotly, 'wherefore?'
'That matters not,' replied Viseshwar Nâth; 'there be many reasons, but the result is the same: if the betrothed be dead, Naraini is widow!'
In the pause Chris clenched his hands; for he saw whither the wily lips were leading him, and in a flash realised his own impotence if this were true.
'It is a lie!' he muttered helplessly. 'I must--my mother must have known. And my father----' Then memory came to remind him that his father had been a champion of widow remarriage, and he broke off still more helplessly.
'Even so!' continued the Swâmi, not unkindly; 'thy father agreed with me (we of the temple have to keep touch with the world, Krishn). Yea! he gave gold, since that is in thy thought! to hide the wrong. And if he were willing to give her to you, his only son, as wife, wherefore should I speak? No harm was done to others; no deception to ignorant honour. But it was different when he died and thy mother came to me, with heart split in twain between the dream and duty, to speak of another betrothal. So I said then--"Wait yet a while. The gods have mated these two. He may return." That was better, was it not, Krishn, than--than widowhood for the girl?'