"Ah, no, friends," said the girl, rising modestly; "ye see but a poor helpless child who was in grief, and whom the Mother has comforted. Leave me! let me go! I would go home. Mother, take me away! Father, do thou come with me!"
"It may not be, daughter," said the old priest, kindly; "we must neglect nothing, else it were dangerous for thee and for us. Bring a palkee," he shouted to the attendant priests, "and get the music ready, and flowers too, and offerings for the Pâp-nâs. Yes, brother," he continued to her father, "for once I usurp thy office; thou knowest what is needed. Come, let us not delay."
Tara looked imploringly at her father; she would fain have escaped the public procession if she could. She only wanted now to get home unperceived, and to hide herself in her chamber. What had she done to be so honoured—to be so noticed?
"It must be, my child," he said; "this cannot be begun and abandoned; let not thy heart fail thee, the Holy Mother will be with thee. Come!"
Tara yielded: she bent reverently before the old priest, and touched his feet, then her father's, and going round the Brahmuns assembled she did the same; last of all her mother's, who was sobbing, yet not in sorrow. "Come," she said, "I am ready; do with me as ye list. Ye are my elders, and I obey."
FOOTNOTE:
[2] Most Brahmuns perform their early morning worship after bathing in cold water, and with their garments still wet.