She was on the floor, her mind filled with images of death, when suddenly a light was seen approaching through the dark passage opposite to which she happened to be lying, and a bright figure, enveloped in light, appeared to enter the portal. Every part of the figure was illumined; and yet the light did not appear to radiate from it, for all around was darkness. It was about the size of a man, and exactly resembled the huge idol of Somnat. The widow started to her feet as the singular object approached. It advanced to the centre of the apartment, and remained stationary.
The phosphorescent figure, instead of illuminating the apartment, seemed to attract to itself every particle of light, rendering the gloom around it so intense that nothing else was visible. It glared upon the astonished widow from eyes fixed in their sockets, like diamonds riveted into the living rock, with a lustre so unearthly that she was obliged to seek relief in the darkness from a sight of the hideous phantom. She drooped her head and remained in a state of agonizing suspense as to the issue of this terrifying visitation. She began to question her vitality. And yet the strong perception of her senses—the tangible evidence of life in her own movements—the hearing of her own breath—the feeling of her heart’s pulsation—all convinced her that she was alive. Could this be a visit from the idol as promised by the Brahmin? She would judge by the issue. And yet could the deity have rescued her from the performance of an oblation universally held by all devout Hindoos to be so welcome to him? Can he abrogate his own laws. The thing appeared impossible. By whom then had she been rescued from death?
In spite of the natural tendency of her mind to superstition, a secret misgiving occasionally invaded it that she was about to become the dupe of some spiritual juggle. The overtures of the Brahmin recurred to her mind, and the anxiety he had expressed to save her from performing the suttee. She began to dread that she was in his power; and yet the strange supernatural shape at this moment before her seemed strong evidence that she was in the presence of something unearthly.
Several female figures, all of the same lustrous description, as if radiant with their own inherent glories, next appeared to enter the vault, and surround the representative of Somnat’s Idol. They prostrated themselves before it, and then such an exhibition of indecency was represented as caused the widow to turn with a feeling of sickening disgust towards the wall in order to exclude from her sight the revolting objects. The blood mantled to her very temples: it was now manifest to her reason that she could not be in the presence of her god, but that she had been made a dupe of the basest artifices. She had no difficulty in suspecting the author of her present imprisonment.
Whilst these thoughts were passing rapidly through her mind, her ear caught a voice which, though feigned to imitate something superhuman, she instantly recognised as that of the Brahmin, towards whom she entertained sentiments of unqualified disgust.
“The deity of Somnat visits thee with his especial predilection. Thou most favoured of thy sex, hail the coming of the god with joy, and receive him to thy embrace.” A hand was laid upon her arm; she shrank from the touch as if it had been the contact of a torpedo.
“Man of infamy,” she said calmly, “I am not to be deceived either by your wiles or by your sorceries. Scenes to which you would invite me but ill become the purity of heaven, where they alone abide who are free from carnal defilements. When the ministers of religion convert her sacred temple into a place of revelry and unchaste joys, the words of spiritual blessing can no longer proceed from such polluted lips. A light seems to have broken upon my soul, and to have imparted to it a new sense of perception. I know not how, or why the revelation has come upon me, but I feel that I have been a dupe—that your religion is a scandal—that by you the deity is vilified, his altars defiled, and his temple desecrated—that I am betrayed, and that you are a villain.”
No answer was returned. She heard footsteps slowly retreating, and fancied she could distinguish the dim outline of a figure through the gloom. The silence and mysterious conduct of her persecutor surprised her. She feared to quit the cell, knowing not whither the passage might lead, and determined to perish in her present solitary prison rather than consent to anything which her heart did not sanction.
Beginning to feel drowsy from the effects of the draught which she had taken before ascending the pile, and fearful lest, if she allowed herself to be overcome by sleep, some base advantage might be taken of her, she paced the vault rapidly in order to dissipate the effects of the narcotic, the influence of which had not entirely subsided. In a short time some one again entered the apartment, and the same voice informed her that a curry had been prepared, and a jar of Gangetic water provided for her neither of which she felt any inclination to touch. It occurred to her that the food might contain some treacherous drug; she therefore determined not to taste it.
Her heart now reverted to her infant with all a mother’s longing. When she thought of its being in the hands of comparative strangers, who could not feel towards it a parent’s tenderness, her anxiety became vehement. It was her only tie upon earth, and the big tear filled her eye as she reflected that she had probably beheld it for the last time. Having at length walked off the effects of the potion, the excitement of her mind dispelled all desire to sleep, and she seated herself upon the floor of her gloomy apartment, determined to wait with patience the issue of her odious captivity.