"He must care," said the matron stoutly, "or he must care for me; and yet, for thy sake, I would not provoke him. But, O Radha! when thou hast had a child lying at thy heart—drinking its life from thy breast—climbing about thee—thou wilt understand what a woman can dare for it—what I could dare for Tara! Wilt thou speak to him, or shall I?"
Radha feared her brother. She did not know the extent to which his unscrupulous and profligate mind might carry him, but she had not forgotten his threats. Though she felt assured that, with the protection her husband could afford her, she was now beyond all ordinary harm at his hands, she feared the consequences both to herself and Tara with which he had before threatened her, and she dreaded his violence. Could he have been mad enough to speak to Tara? Could he have sent any insulting message to her? Something must have occurred, and she felt too sick at heart to ask.
"Thou art silent, Radha," continued Anunda; "why?"
"I love Tara; I love him too," she said earnestly, the tears starting to her eyes. "Yes, I will speak to him, even though he should strike me. Mother, I can bear it from him. Can you send me to him?—now, now!—or send for him? If I am to go, let it be at once, for this is a matter in which I cannot hesitate. O dear mother!" she continued, rising and advancing, "I am a child yet to thee. Let me put my head on thy breast for once, and bless me there as thou wouldst Tara: bless me ere I go to him. No, not so, not so; but as Tara lay on thy breast, so would I too, for once."
"Come, Radha!" cried Anunda. "O child! O sister-wife! come; henceforth between thee and me there is no veil. I had longed to draw it away, but thou hast done it now, and I am happy. Yes, henceforth ye are to me as one," she continued, smoothing the soft cheek as it lay at her heart—"new and old, but alike."
"Enough; now I am content," cried the girl, rising and clapping her hands, "and there shall be no fear for Tara. Send some one with me and let me go; he should not come here."
"No, Radha," said Anunda, calling a trusty woman-servant to accompany her, "not here. Go to him, and return soon."
[CHAPTER L.]
"Is my brother within? has he returned from the temple?" asked Radha of a man sitting in the porch of the house in which Moro Trimmul resided, and, though in another street, was only a few steps distant. "Is he come, Chimna?"