"You may wonder, my dear Atterley, that I should remember all these minute circumstances, after the lapse of more than forty years; but every incident of that day is as fresh in my memory as the occurrence of yesterday. To this single green spot in my existence, my mind is never tired of returning.
"I continued for some time in a sort of dreaming ecstasy; but as soon as I collected my thoughts, I began to devise some scheme by which I could again have the happiness of seeing and conversing with the lovely Veenah. My brain had before that time teemed with ambitious projects of distinguishing myself; sometimes as a priest—sometimes as a writer; and occasionally I thought I would bend all my efforts to rouse my countrymen to throw off the ignominious yoke of Great Britain. But this short interview had changed the whole current of my thoughts. I had now a new set of feelings, opinions, and wishes. My mind dwelt solely upon the pleasures of domestic life—the surpassing bliss of loving and of being beloved.
"When the cavalcade returned in the evening, its gaudy magnificence, which I would not permit myself even to see in the morning, I now regarded with cold indifference; nay, more, I congratulated myself on having missed the exhibition, though a few hours before I had deemed this privation one of the misfortunes of my life.
"The next day I went to the garden betimes; and as it communicated with the shrubbery and grounds attached to the Zenana, and the males of the family occasionally entered it when the ladies were not present, I prevailed on the gardener to grant me admission, under the pretext of gathering some uncommonly fine mangoes, which were then ripe. I went to the several spots where I had first seen Veenah—where I had conversed with her—where I had parted from her; and they each had some secret and indescribable charm for me. I fear, Atterley, I fatigue you. The feelings of which I speak, are fully known only to the natives of warm climates, and to those but once in their lives."
I assured him that he was mistaken; that the emotions he described, were the same in all countries, and at all times, and begged him to proceed.
"I repeated my visit," he continued, "several times the same day, under any pretext I could invent—to gather an orange, or other fruit—to pluck a rose—to frighten away mischievous birds—to catch the unobstructed breeze, or sit in a cooler shade; in which artifices I played a part that had before been foreign to my nature. I was disappointed, however, in my wishes. I thought, indeed, I once saw some one in the veranda, looking through the lattice into the garden, but the figure soon disappeared.
"On the following day I had the satisfaction to hear my young companions propose to go on a fishing party, an amusement in which, by the rules of my caste, I was not allowed to partake. They had scarcely left the house before I flew to the garden with a book in my hand, and passing as before to the shrubbery, I buried myself in a close thicket at one end of it. I remained there from the morning till late in the afternoon, without refreshment of any kind; and such was the intensity of my emotion, that I did not feel the want of it. At length, a little before sunset, I saw Veenah and her three cousins enter the garden. I soon contrived to show myself, with my book in my hand. I approached, bowed to them all, but to Veenah last; and although my cousins showed surprise at seeing me in their garden, at this time, they did not seem displeased. I felt very desirous, I could not tell why, to conceal my feelings from every person except her who was the object of them. I forced a conversation with my two eldest cousins, who were modest pleasing girls, and then with an embarrassed air addressed a few words to Veenah and her companion, the youngest of my cousins. Occasionally I would stray off from them as if I was about to leave them, and then suddenly return. In one of these movements, I perceived that Veenah and her associate had separated from the others, and strolled to a distant part of the garden. I soon joined them as if it were by accident, entered into conversation with them alternately, and of course only one half of that which I either heard or said proceeded from the heart or found its way thither. I know not if Veenah expected to see me, but she was dressed with unusual care. We had not been conversing many minutes before the eldest sister beckoning to them, they bid me good night and returned to the house.
"To the same sort of management I had recourse every day, and seldom failed to see and converse with Veenah, sometimes in company with all her cousins, but oftener with Fatima, the youngest. By dividing my attentions among them all, I succeeded for a while in concealing from them the object of my preference; but the sex are too sharp-sighted to be long deceived in these matters. As soon as I perceived that my secret was discovered, I endeavoured to make a friend of Fatima, in which I was successful. After this our meetings were more frequent, and what was of greater importance, they were uninterrupted. Fatima, who was one of the most generous and amiable girls in the world, would often take Veenah out to walk, when her sisters were otherwise engaged; at which times she was perpetually contriving, under some little pretext, to leave us alone. We were not long in understanding each other; and when I urged our early marriage, she ingenuously replied, that I had her consent whenever I had her father's, and that she hoped I could obtain that; but added, (and she trembled while she spoke) she did not know his views respecting her. In the first raptures of requited affection, what lover thinks of difficulties? In obtaining Veenah's heart I believed that all mine were at an end, and my time was passed in one dream of unmixed delight. Oh! what happiness I enjoyed in these interviews—in seeing Veenah—in gazing on her lovely features—in listening to her sentiments, that were sometimes gay and thoughtless, sometimes serious and melancholy, but always tender and affectionate,—and now and then, when not perceived, in venturing to take her hand. These fleeting joys are ever recurring to my imagination, to show me what my lot might have been, and to contrast it with its sad reverse!
"The time now approached for Veenah and her mother to return to Benares. On the evening before they set out, Fatima contrived for us a longer interview than usual. It was as melancholy as it was tender. But in the midst of my grief, at the prospect of our separation, I recollected that we were soon to meet again in the city; while Veenah's tears, for she did not attempt to disguise or suppress her feelings, seemed already to forebode that our happiness was here to terminate.
"When about to part, we exchanged amaranths I took her hand to bid her adieu, and, without seeming to intend it, our lips met, and the first kiss of love was moistened with a tear. Pardon me, Atterley, nature will have her way."—And here the venerable man wept aloud.